Chance checked his watch. “We better head down, or we’ll be late.”
“Right,” she said.
After realizing he was waiting for her to move first, Rosalie started walking. He was behind her. Other than his footsteps and the sound of his breath, he was quiet. His silence made her nervous.
Rosalie slowed her pace so they could walk side by side. “So, any guesses what this meeting could be about?”
Chance kept his eyes focused straight ahead. “None.”
She didn’t believe him. “I saw you in the lemon grove this morning.” She looked up at him to gauge his response.
He nodded. She waited for him to have more of a response than that. Four more steps later, she realized that was all the reaction she was going to get out of him.
Rosalie could be a bulldog when she knew someone was withholding information from her. “Who was she?”
They reached the stairs.
“It’s none of your concern.”
She could tell by the pinch of skin between Chance’s eyes that whatever he was keeping inside may have in fact concerned her.
“Was she a friend of yours?”
Chance glanced at her from the corner of his left eye. He opened his mouth as if he were going to speak but then closed it as though he’d changed his mind.
They reached the bottom of the stairs.
“All right, you win,” Rosalie said.
“It’s not a matter of winning or losing. The conversation I had in the lemon grove was private.”
“Did it have anything to do with Edna?”
He clenched his lips.
“Not answering that, either?”
“Not answering that, either.”
She sniffed bitterly as they reached the entrance of the sitting room. A tall, lean, handsome man in a well-tailored gray suit stood, looking out the window. His hands were clenched behind him as though he didn’t have a care in the world.
“Fred, how are you?” Chance asked, officially bringing an end to Rosalie’s questioning.
Frederick turned to face him. “I’m fine.” He pointed to his briefcase on the table. “I guess we should get down to business.”
The room wasn’t that large, but Rosalie still searched every corner, looking for Edna, who was not sitting in her usual chair.
“Where’s Mrs. Sterling?” she asked.
“She won’t be attending this meeting,” Fred replied.
“Why not?”
He opened his briefcase. “Did Mrs. Sterling advise you on asking questions?”
“Yes, she did,” Chance answered before she could.
Fredrick stood up straight and took his hand out of his briefcase. “Did you agree to that condition?”
Rosalie wanted to argue until she got a little more information regarding all the secrecy, but she could tell by Frederick’s expression that he was not the quarreling type.
“Yes.” Her tone indicated how dissatisfied she was about giving in so easily.
Frederick nodded briskly and reopened his briefcase.
Rosalie and Chance stole dubious glances at each other. Admittedly, she was slightly embarrassed to have not gotten the disclosure she was seeking.
Fred handed them each a multiple-page document clamped together by a paper clip.
“Initial or sign where indicated beside the yellow tabs.”
Rosalie sat on the sofa, and Chance took a seat beside her. She flipped the top page. The next page was the start of a contract, only the language was blocked out with cut-out pieces of red paper.
Chance looked up at Frederick, who was using Edna’s favorite chair as his table. “Signing blindly?”
“That was the agreement,” Frederick said.
Chance glanced at Rosalie. He must have felt the same trepidation as her. No lawyer worth his or her salt would advise a client to sign a contract without reading it first, let alone sign one themselves.
“My grandmother stepped down as chairman of the board,” Chance said. “Does signing this have anything to do with that?”
Fred kept his poker face as he looked from Chance to Rosalie. “I can’t say.”
Chance hesitated for a few beats. “Do you have the pens?”
“I have two.” Fred took two shiny silver pens out of his briefcase. He handed one to Rosalie and the other to Chance.
Rosalie didn’t know about Chance, but a large part of her wanted to back out of the deal. However, it was more from a matter of principle than trust. There was no way in the world Edna would intentionally screw her in the end. With each signature or scribbling of her initials, the rate of her heartbeat increased. Every now and then, she would steal at glance at Chance, whose hand moved diligently.
She finally reached the last page and inked it with her signature. She and Chance handed the pages back to Frederick at the same time.
Frederick collected the contracts. They sat in silence as he looked over each page.
“Now what?” Rosalie asked.
Frederick carefully placed the papers in his immaculately ordered briefcase. “This.” Frederick took an envelope out the pocket inside of his briefcase and handed it to Chance.
“What’s this?” he asked.
“Mrs. Sterling wanted you both to have it.”
Chance tapped the envelope against his palm and got ready to rip it open along the edge.
Frederick raised a hand. “Not while I’m here.” He pointed to the envelope. “What’s in there should only be shared between the two of you.” He finished closing his briefcase.
Chance’s arm dropped, and he held the envelope against the side of his thigh.
Rosalie wondered if he felt the same heaviness as she did. Edna had tethered them together with thick and heavy chains. The secrecy was the troublesome part. Edna had always said what she meant, meant what she said, and let the chips fall where they may.
“Is she sick?” Rosalie asked Frederick. Her tone was too sad, even for herself.
“I’m sorry, but I’m not allowed to answer any questions.”
Rosalie’s sigh was tempered by frustration.
Frederick securely gripped his briefcase. “Thank you both. I have a flight to catch.”
Chance clenched his jaw as he nodded.
“Have a good day,” Frederick said as he walked out of the sitting room. Intention fueled his steps.
Now that Rosalie and Chance were alone, the air turned extra thick. Her gaze dropped to the letter in his hand.
“Right? This?” He lifted the envelope and held it as if he was deliberating whether he should open it or not.
“You still don’t trust me, do you?” she asked.
He walked over and sat down on the sofa. “Would you join me?”
Rosalie folded her arms defiantly. Her question had gone unanswered, and on the inside, she was screaming, shouting, and kicking for an answer. But then reason struck her, and she unfolded her arms. Fighting with Chance and demanding that he not use every little opportunity to control the situation was not conducive for the long run. Plus, she could have been wrong about his intentions. More than likely, she was wrong. Marriage to Peter had left her traumatized when it came to dealing with men. There wasn’t a man alive whom she didn’t read as being naturally controlling and manipulative.
Rosalie had one best friend in her life, and it was her cousin Skye. Two years ago, Skye had suggested that she see someone about her distrust of men. It took blowing up on her own dad for Rosalie to listen.
A year and a half ago, she had gone on a three-week vacation to Tenerife in the Canary Islands. Everyone who knew her knew that she would have her cell phone off and would not be reachable until after the last day of her trip. While she was gone, her father had her childhood home in Blushing Green demolished. The only thing her parents had ever agreed on since divorcing was the house, which wasn’t to be sold or touched because it belonged to Rosalie. That was how they’d settled disputes during their marriage—if they couldn’t agree on who go
t it, then they gave it to the kids.
However, in this case, Rosalie’s brother Norman declined to have anything to do with the house. Two years ago, their parents had insisted on them paying the taxes or else they would sell it. Norman had a wife, two kids, and a Golden-State-sized mortgage, so he’d declined. Rosalie picked up the tab because, for her, the home had sentimental value. So she received a call from her mother only hours after her flight touched ground in Los Angeles.
“Rich demolished the house and sold the property,” Vera said.
“What? Why?”
“You have to ask him.”
Fueled by anger, Rosalie ended the call without saying another word and dialed her father. She let him have it, accusing him of never caring about anyone but himself, which was why he’d divorced Vera in the first place.
Rich waited silently for her verbal assault to end. “Did your mom tell you the house was infested with mold?”
She felt so embarrassed. “No.”
“Did she tell you the mold endangered the health of nearby neighbors?”
Rosalie couldn’t bring herself to answer that question.
“I don’t know why she didn’t tell you the whole story, because she knew it all.”
“She did?”
“She always does, Rose.”
And that was it. For the first time, she had heard his indirect accusation against her mom. After that conversation, Rosalie knew Skye was right. It was imperative that she sought help. That wasn’t the first time she went ham on her father because of something Vera had led her to believe. Therapy had been a tremendous help, but she was still a work in progress.
So Rosalie battled her first inclination, which was to resist Chance and insist that he open the letter stat. Instead, she calmly sat down beside him on the sofa.
“The answer to your question is I don’t know,” he said. “I’ve been taught to not do a lot of trusting. After all, I’m a Sterling.” His strained smile said it all.
Rosalie nodded understandingly.
Chance watched her with a steady gaze, and she wondered what he was thinking.
He cleared his throat and focused on the envelope. “Let’s see what this says.” Chance finished ripping the envelope open.
Rosalie admired his clean fingernails and the soft skin of his strong hands. It had been so long since a man had felt her up. Only for a moment, she imagined how those hands would feel sliding up the inside of her thighs.
Rosalie closed her eyes as she took a deep breath to purge the lust.
“Are you okay?” Chance asked.
She opened her eyes and dipped her chin, unable to meet his gaze. “Sure. Yes.”
Chance slid a folded page out of the envelope. She was now on the edge of her seat with curiosity. His sexy hands unfolded the paper. “James Hague. 1997,” he read.
She saw it too. The name and year were the only words written on the page. Rosalie shook her head. “What the devil is going on?”
“Good question.”
SEVEN
CHANCE STERLING
Rosalie sagged against the couch. Chance glanced back at her only to be distracted by her cleavage protruding out of the V-shape of her white sweater.
His mind was working on the cryptic message his grandmother had left for them. For a second, he needed to forget Rosalie was in the room. So he shifted forward and rested his arms on his thighs.
“Okay, okay, okay,” he whispered as he tried to make sense of all that had occurred up until that point.
“Okay what?” Rosalie said.
He jumped, got ahold of his composure, and sat back. His time to ignore her was up. “I’m positive Grandmother’s making some kind of power play.”
“Me too.”
“And about the woman in the lemon grove…”
Rosalie sat up. “Yeah?”
“Chance Sterling,” an excited voice called.
Chance and Rosalie snapped their attention toward whoever said that.
One look at the face he hadn’t seen in years, and he couldn’t stop smiling. There she was—a beautiful, elegant, and tall breath of both fresh and wayward air.
“Halo,” he sang as he leapt off the sofa.
She shook her finger at him. “I told you not to call me that.”
They hugged. The fibers from her white fur jacket tickled his nose.
“But it’s the name your mother gave you, and she’s our bright ray of sanity.”
“Ha! I don’t know about sane, but she does lack the maniacal gene that cursed her brothers.” She punched him in the arm. “But what are you doing here?”
“I’m here for Grandmother’s party.”
She nudged herself in the chest with two fingers. “Me too!”
Halo wanted to be called Marie, which was her middle name, as of two years ago when she retired from being a fashion model to become a principal chemist for the Reed Corporation, which was the biggest chemical company in the nation.
Suddenly, Halo tilted her head and studied Rosalie. “New girlfriend, Chance? No. Wait…” She tilted her head to the opposite side. “I know you. You’re, um…” She shook her finger. “You’re Pete’s wife. Ex-wife, I heard, and the lucky escapee.” She snickered at her own joke.
“Be nice,” Chance said.
She rolled her eyes. “Oh, come on, Chance, you know he’s high maintenance as hell, as well as immature, and he’s got the mean streak of a bratty ten-year-old.”
Chance pressed his lips together. He had no idea why he felt the need to chastise Halo. Out of everyone in the family, she was the one who reacted to everyone as they were. Once, his father had been yelling at Penelope, Halo’s mother, for never being the right kind of Sterling, especially when she’d married Roger Boyd, whom he referred to as street scum. They were at the dinner table, and all the Sterling men were, as usual, on their worst behavior. Halo shot straight to her feet, threw her napkin at his father, and called him an escapee from the pits of hell.
“I’m done eating and knowing you people,” she had said before strolling out of the dining room.
Chance had to take a moment to think, but he was sure that was the last time Halo had interacted with any Sterling besides their grandmother, her own mother, and him. Halo had never attended one of the birthday parties. Like him, she would make her own personal celebration with Grandmother.
“At least that’s how I remember him,” Halo said.
“He hasn’t changed,” Chance said.
“No, he hasn’t,” Rosalie concurred.
Halo’s happy eyes shifted between him and Rosalie. “So… are you two together now?”
“No,” Chance and Rosalie said at the same time.
This time, she studied them with a curious frown. “Humph.”
Chance knew she’d meant something by grunting, but he wasn’t about to ask. Halo was probably the only person on the planet he couldn’t hide his true feelings from. She was too intuitive and spent way too much energy on studying people.
Halo searched over her shoulder and out into the hallway. “Where is she, anyway?”
“Who? Grandmother?” he asked. “The hell if we know.”
“But she should be home soon, I believe,” Rosalie said.
Once again, Halo’s curious gaze bounced between Chance and Rosalie. He tugged at the collar of his shirt. It was as if someone had turned up the heat.
“Well, my mom should be here soon, you know. Apparently, she’s planning the party this year along with Susan. She’d rather keep Susan out of it, but the battle’s on for Grandmother’s attention.”
Chance crossed his arms, figuring he would get Halo’s take on something that had been bothering him. “Hey, last night, Pete and Baylor showed up for dinner, unannounced. I also learned that Grandmother’s backing away from the company.”
“Yeah, I heard,” she said.
“You had?”
Halo gestured animatedly with her hands. “Yeah, cousin, it’s all connected, you know. That’s
why Mom is coming to shove her head up Grandmother’s ass. She’s over her little temper tantrum, and now she wants her stake back in the company. What you’re witnessing is the beginning of the bloodbath, and may the shark with the bigger brain win.”
“Not the sharpest teeth?” Rosalie asked.
Halo shook her head while cynically rolling her eyes. “Nope. All of their molars are equally pointed.”
Chance nodded thoughtfully. Halo was rarely wrong about their family’s evil intentions. She’d called it when Baylor had made a contract to have Penelope sign away her rights to collect on assets that were acquired after the “modern” estate was established. Chance had never heard of such a thing as a modern estate before then. His uncles had just been making up shit to weed out the competition so they could claim more stake in the company.
Back in 2014 when the company had reported record losses, a family dinner was called. Grandmother had strongly urged all family members be present, even Halo. After dinner, Halo and Chance went into the garden to share what was supposed to have been their last ever cigarette together.
“What did you think about all of that?” Chance asked Halo.
She finished taking a drag on the cigarette and handed it back to Chance then slowly blew smoke out of her mouth. “I think Carlton’s going for the gold.”
“Please elaborate,” he said.
“He’s going to try to oust Baylor, but he’ll lose because Baylor’s too dug in.”
Chance understood exactly what she meant. “Right.” Even though the two brothers were equally formidable, Baylor still held all the cards because he was number two under Grandmother.
Chance took another drag on the cigarette. “But how do you see all this?”
“Body language. You know how Carlton gets all squirmy when his little brain is planning evil?”
“No, I don’t.” He handed the cigarette back to Halo.
“Well, as general counsel, you better start noticing shit like that.”
He just grunted curiously. It was sort of embarrassing that she was the fashion model and he was the lawyer, yet she was better at reading people than he was. Two weeks later, her prediction had come true.
Chance stopped nodding as the memory from three years ago faded. “You’re right. The bloodbath is about to ensue.”
Secrets & Chance (The Sterlings Book 1) Page 9