Takeover: The Complete Series

by Lana Grayson

  But they heard pain.

  Too much pain.

  And now the estate screamed too.

  Fallen debris and crashed chunks of the ceiling blocked the grand staircase. The side stairs coiled with smoke too thick to see, to breathe.

  Reed grabbed my arm and forced me down the south wing, his hall. He kicked open the door to his room, pitched off his jacket and rushed to the balcony.

  I hardly recognized him, dusted with soot, burned with fire, beaten by his own mourning. He stepped onto the edge of the balcony and looked down.

  “Feeling lucky?”

  Not particularly, not as our childhood home and prison collapsed around us. I searched beneath us. The pool waited below.

  Two stories below.

  “Always wanted to try this,” Reed said. “Dad forbade it.”

  “Dad’s dead.”

  Now he smiled.

  And leapt.

  Christ.

  He didn’t give me warning. The splash crashed over the entirety of the pool. I waited for my idiot brother to either surface or bleed out. He kicked off the side and shouted.

  “Water’s fine!”

  Fuck, he’d lost his goddamned mind.

  I ripped the jacket off and poised over the edge. The balcony didn’t extend over the pool.

  I didn’t have a choice.

  I pushed from the railing and dove, smacking the water at full force, crushed by the impact. My vision flared white.

  Burned and drowned.

  Two deaths escaped.

  I kicked from the bottom and burst through the surface. Reed grabbed my arm and hauled me onto the concrete. The salt-water seared my eyes, my lungs, the wounds.

  “Sarah.”

  I grunted, pushing myself up. We raced to the front of the house, but Sarah wasn’t where I left her. Of course. I shouted, and she answered, weakly, hiding behind the car. One hand wrapped over her belly, the other on the inhaler.

  I wasn’t taking chances. She needed to go to a hospital.

  “Max?” she wept, knowing the answer. “Where’s Max?”

  I shook my head. Reed dove to her side, his own tears mixing with hers.

  She crumpled. “But I didn’t…I hadn’t forgiven him…I didn’t say—”

  I enveloped her in a hug. She sobbed against my shoulders, beating at me, weakening with each blow.

  “It’s okay,” I whispered. I kissed her, again and again, rocking her in my arms. “It’s done. It’s over. You’re safe.”

  Safe.

  The orange flicker of fire destroyed and betrayed, weakened and collapsed. Just as Sarah promised, the very foundation of the Bennett Empire began to fall.

  And I would help it. I’d break every stone, burn every wall, and crush every last memory.

  Then I would restore our family in the image of what was most important.

  Safety, trust, love.

  Sarah and I would build it together.

  Brick by brick.

  27

  Reed

  Yeah, I really shouldn’t have been here, but someone had to come. Not sure why I volunteered.

  We didn’t even mark the grave. What was there to say?

  You’re gone.

  The dirt was still fresh and smelled odd. But then again, all I smelled was soot and ash and dirt. And now salt. That was a relief. The beach wasn’t the beach without the ocean spray.

  I hadn’t been to the shore in so long. I wasn’t permitted to loiter at the ocean. Names to uphold and parties to plan. Now I had a chance to go.

  And I always did want to leave it all behind. Drop the name and expectations and get the hell out of that insanity before I earned yet another injury. I knew I was cute, but I was running out of canvas to keep clear of the scars.

  So I thought about going until I realized I didn’t have anything to run from now.

  I sat beside the grave, but he wasn’t in there. They couldn’t find…most of him. That type of fire was too difficult to escape.

  I wasn’t sure he even tried.

  You’re gone.

  My cell rang. I didn’t want to answer it so close to the grave. I walked away and resolved never to look back.

  Sarah’s number blinked across the display.

  “Hey,” I said. “What’d the doctor say?”

  “Everything’s looking good.”

  “And Bumper?”

  “Kicking my lungs.”

  “Well, they don’t work anyway.”

  “No, but they’re generally nice to not have bruised.” She hesitated, confirming what we figured. “The doctor warned I might have to go on bedrest in another few weeks because of the asthma.”

  I groaned. “That’s not the good kind of bedrest. You’re not allowed to do anything fun then.”

  “Certainly not your idea of fun.”

  “That’s every man’s idea of fun.”

  The wind whipped against the phone. I inhaled, but whatever charred the estate also settled in my veins, my skin, my hair. Two weeks had passed, and I still found smudges of ash over my house. It’d be spooky if I hadn’t already lived through my worst fears.

  “Where are you?” Sarah asked.

  Yeah, right. She wouldn’t understand, and I didn’t want her to worry about that night. Too many things went wrong.

  Actually, not a whole hell of a lot went right over the past year.

  I was changing that. Better late than never.

  “I’m outside,” I said. Technically, it wasn’t a lie. I’d never lie to her. “You?”

  “Home.” Her voice warmed. “Well, at Nick’s. Are you coming over?”

  I cleared my throat. “Actually. I…uh, I have a date.”

  Shock. The baby would probably crash out of her right then.

  “You have a date?”

  “Yeah.”

  “With a girl?”

  If she didn’t know my preferences by now, I couldn’t help her. “Yeah.”

  “Is she…” Sarah laughed. “Is she normal?”

  Were any of us? “She’s just someone I know. Thought maybe it’d be good to get out. Head to the ocean. Surf.”

  “Sure. Yeah. That’s…” Sarah smiled, and I could hear it over the phone. She was doing that more lately. I liked it. “That’s really good. I’m so glad you can finally…”

  And now the weeping. So much for the smile, but she blamed the pregnancy.

  It wasn’t. She felt the same thing I did.

  Relief.

  “I’ll stop by tomorrow,” I promised.

  “I want all the details.”

  Yeah, she was getting them whether she wanted them or not. For the past year my only relationship consisted of trying to fuck and breed my step-sister. How the hell was I supposed to be normal now?

  Most girls wanted flowers and roses. Sarah just wanted to stop bruising and get mounted by me and my brother at the same time.

  No matter how much money I had in my pocket that shit wasn’t the eccentric life of a billionaire. It was pure fucking crazy. And who the hell knew how much damage it did to any of us.

  Sarah bounced back, if only because she was more spring that human, forced to the ground to pop up again. And Nick? Christ. What the hell did he care? He got everything. Company. Woman. Baby. Future.

  I couldn’t even think about Max.

  Which left me and my baggage, each piece categorized with a neat little tag. Father issues, Guilt, Grief, Oddly specific sexual fetishes that weren’t resolved or explored.

  Yeah, we were in good shape.

  But at least I finally had the chance to try. I wanted out, and this was it. My own life, my own future, my own everything.

  God help the girl who got saddled with me.

  But that’s what the dimple was for. So far, it got me into enough trouble. Maybe it was time it got me out of some.

  Or maybe it was time I found someone to share the trouble with me.

  Epilogue

  Sarah

  Giving birth was the most
harrowing, sweaty, utterly disturbing experience of my life.

  Then the nurse passed the squirmy bundle of pink to me.

  And then I figured it hadn’t been so bad.

  Nicholas didn’t last. I never saw him cry before, but he nuzzled against me, breath just as labored as mine. They probably should have given him the oxygen. I didn’t need it.

  I hadn’t breathed since Bumper looked up at me.

  “Oh, she’s the most beautiful baby girl,” the nurse said. “She looks just like Daddy. Look at those big, golden eyes.”

  I clutched her, but I was lost. Overwhelmed.

  Nicholas held us, both of us.

  Me and his daughter.

  And we both wept in joy.

  The party was scheduled for tomorrow. After finals. Because, for some reason, I thought it’d be fun to chase the baby, take an eight AM final, graduate, and then have a giant formal party to celebrate my degree.

  But if anyone could handle it, it was me.

  Still, my books were piled on the patio table, cast out around me. I stared at the results of my titration lab. They were the right figures, of course, but smudged with smashed bananas. I’d pass it off as me initialing the work and hopefully my professor—a woman with a young child herself—wouldn’t take too many points off my current A.

  It really wouldn’t matter. I still had Atwood Industries to run and the future GMO division of the Bennett Corporation to oversee, but I wanted this degree. Not because it was what my family planned for me, and not because I had to finish anything I started, but because it was for me.

  It was mine.

  And I wasn’t letting anything keep me from what was mine anymore.

  So I pushed the sippy-cup toward the high-chair and let the chubby little hand squeeze my fingers as I studied.

  “Hannah,” I smiled at the squealing toddler. “Can you say titration?”

  “Ie-ie-ah-banana.”

  Nicholas snorted over his laptop. “Sounds like she’s going into business with me.”

  “Yeah, right. That was an –ethyl group. She’s talking compounds and esters.”

  The sippy-cup smashed to the table. Nicholas scooped it up before it spilled over my books.

  “Thank you, Daddy.” I murmured.

  “Did you graduate yet?”

  I bit my pencil. “Not yet. Give me twenty-four hours.”

  “You sure you can’t take off early?”

  I didn’t trust the devious glow in his golden eyes—warm and promising and absolutely not the distraction I needed while studying for my last test ever.

  At least, until I went for my doctorate.

  “The plane’s ready,” he teased. “Beautiful spot on the beach. Just you, me, Bumper.”

  “You know we can’t go until after tomorrow. Hard to host a graduation party if I’m not here.”

  “Hard to have a honeymoon if you don’t want to go.”

  “Oh, I want to go.”

  “Do you?”

  “Depends,” I smirked. “What are you planning?”

  “You’ll see.”

  Nicholas curled a finger. I leaned in close, stealing a heated, perfect kiss.

  Hannah squealed in shrill delight. I knew that excited sound. I murmured against his lips.

  “Uncle Reed’s here.” I pulled from Nicholas. Reluctantly. “Honeymoon can wait.”

  Reed jogged onto the patio, making a beeline for the baby. Hannah loved the game, and she raised her arms for a hug. Spoiled little thing. All she ever got were hugs. And trust funds. Mostly hugs.

  “You really shouldn’t cage her like this.” Reed slathered her with kisses.

  “It’s a high-chair.” I laughed.

  “This little girl wants to run.”

  “Run and jump and fall off all the steps and rush into the corn…”

  And they were down, rolling in the grass. Reed tossed Hannah into the air, way too high.

  Yeah, we weren’t studying now.

  “Place looks good.” Reed mimicked Bumper, squealing just as shrill as she expressed her profound enjoyment at rough-housing with her uncle. “Almost done?”

  Nicholas glanced over our new home. “It is.”

  It wasn’t the garish Bennett Estate, nor was it the gaudy farmhouse turned mansion. But it was ours. A blended, perfect union of both rural cornfields and hectic business. Nicholas surrendered and agreed to raise Hannah on the farm. It wasn’t much of a fight. He didn’t care where we were or where we lived.

  So long as we were together. A family.

  And we were.

  For the most part. As much as the old wounds healed.

  Reed stood, gathering my baby-turned-toddler-before-I-was-ready into his arms. He passed her to me. His voice lowered.

  “Are you expecting anyone else?”

  I turned.

  The dark figure limping his way to the patio hesitated. The party planners and decorators buzzed in his path, and he wasn’t completely stable on the prosthetic leg yet. He clutched an oversized teddy bear dressed in overalls with a little straw hat.

  Just like one he gave me once, but this present wasn’t for me.

  My heart stilled. I held Hannah close. Nicholas stood.

  “Max?”

  Max didn’t look at me, but he approached his brothers after a long moment. He appeared…so different. Pale, but still a mountain of muscle and ink and frightening intensity.

  “Holy shit, dude,” Reed said. “What are you doing here?”

  My words shuddered, lost in a pain I hadn’t felt for a year and a half.

  “I invited him.” I stared at my step-brother. “I didn’t think you’d come.”

  Max lowered his gaze. “I thought it was time.”

  Silence.

  We stared at each other. Reunited after what felt like a lifetime of pain, recovery, joy.

  Reed slapped a hand on Nicholas’s shoulder. “I still haven’t seen that new game room.”

  Nicholas’s gaze stayed on me and the baby. “Sarah?”

  “It’s okay.”

  Nicholas and Reed granted us privacy. I snuggled Hannah close.

  Max still hadn’t met my gaze. He hadn’t expected to talk to me alone. He hadn’t talked to me at all.

  And that hurt more than anything.

  “A year and half, Max,” I whispered. “You didn’t call. You didn’t try to see us. You didn’t even text.”

  “Yeah.”

  That was it? That was all he would say? Hannah squirmed, but I adjusted her against my hip.

  “You didn’t come to see your niece when she was born.”

  That was the greatest insult, but I wasn’t done listing the wounds he caused me.

  “You didn’t come to the wedding. You didn’t come to the house. You didn’t even try.”

  “I tried.”

  “You did a horrible job.”

  “I didn’t think you wanted me here, baby.” He rubbed his face. “Not after what I did.”

  So much had happened since then. So many questions and problems and pain, and so many good things. The baby. The marriage.

  It was so easy to love when we had no secrets, no hidden motives.

  “You haven’t forgiven me yet,” he said.

  I stared at the cornfields, the back field where my entire family buried. Josiah and Mike. Dad. Mom, who’d held on long enough to meet her granddaughter. I’d needed everyone in my family to rebuild my life after it crashed down. That included Max.

  And he had refused to come.

  “It’s hard to forgive you if you aren’t here to forgive, Max.”

  He tensed, meeting my eyes.

  “We’re a family now,” I said. “We’re all we have. Nicholas and me and…” I shrugged with Bumper. “And Reed. We’re supposed to be a family. I wanted that more than anything. And you weren’t there.”

  “You wanted me here?”

  Not at first. It took time. But it wouldn’t have taken nearly as much if we had been together.

&n
bsp; “I thought you were dead,” I said. “We all did. And then you call a week later only to disappear again. Max, I didn’t want you here, but I needed you. I still do.”

  He didn’t believe me. He didn’t want to believe me. He surveyed the farm, pretending to care an ounce about the corn and dirt. He turned. His attention rested on the baby.

  “That her?” he asked.

  “No, I stable a whole herd of kids now.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  I edged her close to Max. Now she decided to play it coy and hid her face in my shoulder.

  “What’s her name?”

  “Hannah Rain Atwood-Bennett.” I kissed her cheek to earn her giggle. “Still call her Bumper though. It grew on us.”

  His words lowered. “She looks like Nick.”

  “She should.”

  “Is…is she…”

  “His? Yes.”

  “Are…are you sure?”

  I hated speaking of it. It wouldn’t have made a difference. Nicholas and I loved Hannah unconditionally.

  “I’m a geneticist. She’s Nick’s.”

  A man as big as Max would fall the hardest if he let it happen. He didn’t though. He composed himself with a breath and nodded.

  “Good,” he said. “That’s…the way it should be.”

  Yes. It was. “Do you want to hold her?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Max.” I shifted her. Hannah hid her face, but she smiled, baiting him to reach for her.

  “I have no idea how to hold a baby.”

  “It’s easy.” I passed her into his arms. Max’s muscles swallowed her, cradling her within ink and strength. Hannah looked at Max with a goofy grin and babbled.

  He instantly fell in love.

  “What’d she say?” His words wavered. He hadn’t moved. Hadn’t breathed.

  “Hi, Hamlet, banana, and tor-tor. We think that’s her word for tractor. She’s giving you a tour of the farm.”

  “She’s amazing.”

  “She is.” I brushed her chubby little arm. “She could use another uncle.”

  “Not me.”

  “Yes you. Max, this family isn’t a normal family. But we’ve been through too much together to separate. We can’t heal on our own. It isn’t fair to punish ourselves for what happened in the past. It’s not fair to Hannah.”