INVESTED (Dunning Trilogy Book 1)

by Iris Bolling

  "You don't have time to breakdown. Your mother needs you, not to mention your brothers and sisters."

  "It's too much."

  "I know it is." She sat him on the sofa, took off his jacket and shoes, then laid him down. "And it is incredibly unfair. However, your name is Myles Davis Dunning. You are a soldier. Your father prepared you for this moment and so has God. This did not happen by chance. It happened when God knew you were ready to be the man your father raised you to be." She walked away then came back with a wet cloth. She placed it on his forehead.

  "It's coffee for you."

  She walked off again as she talked. "How did you get like this anyway? One or two drinks and you are usually done. Were you with Michael?"

  Myles looked up to see her standing over him with hands on hips and face frowning. "I am not a snitch," he slurred.

  "Never mind." She stomped off again. "It doesn't matter. You are a grown man. No one can force you to do anything you did not want to do." She appeared in front of him with a cup of coffee in her hand. "Drink this."

  "I don't want to."

  "Drink it anyway."

  "You just said no one can force me-"

  "Drink the coffee, Myles." She glared at him as she shoved the cup into his hand then stomped off again.

  Myles sat up, took a sip of the coffee then watched as she came back into view with latex gloves on and a small trash can lined with a bag in her hand. She sat it in front of him.

  He looked up. "I don't need..." Before he could finish the statement, his head was in the trashcan emptying the contents of his stomach. He looked up to find her standing there with a glass in her hand.

  "Rinse."

  He did.

  That routine happened three more times until he fell asleep. When he woke during the wee hours of the next morning, there was a blanket over him. He was stripped down to his pants, the trashcan was gone, the room was clean and he felt lousy. He looked around, somewhat disoriented, until he saw Chrystina. She was curled up in an overstuffed chair and ottoman with a blanket wrapped around her.

  Concern filled her eyes as she sat up. "Hi."

  "Morning." He looked around. It was still dark outside.

  "There is a clean towel, wash cloth and toothbrush in the hall bath. I'll fix you some coffee." She threw the blanket aside then walked into the kitchen.

  Feeling like crap, he stood under the shower for more than twenty minutes. When he stepped out there was grey sweat pants, and a black tee shirt.

  "She thinks of everything," he said, then wondered if she had a magic potion to stop the headache from vibrating when he brushed his teeth. He dressed then walked out to the living room to find her at the table in the dining area pouring a cup of coffee. She was dressed in a long black night shirt that came to her knees, her hair was in one long braid that fell across her shoulder, and on her feet was a pair of bunny slippers with the ears flopped down on the side. The sight of her made him smile.

  "Here, sit and drink this first." She pointed to a glass of cloudy water.

  He sat to find eggs, toast and coffee on the table next to the cloudy water.

  "This is?" He raised an eyebrow.

  "Lemon water with honey to help with your hangover."

  He sighed. "Yeah, I need that." He downed the glass in its entirety.

  "Alcohol dehydrates you. The lemon water will help with that. The toast and eggs will absorb the alcohol out of your system. Together the two will flush you out. Now eat." She sat in the chair to his left.

  "Aren't you going to eat?" he asked as he bit into the toast.

  "It's a little early for me." She smiled as she put her elbow on the table using her arm to brace her head.

  He nodded. "Your hair is down."

  "Hmm?"

  "Your hair," he repeated. "You always wear it up at work. It's down."

  She picked up the end of the braid. "It’s pinned up all day so at night I brush it out to let it breathe then I braid it."

  He nodded. "You look different."

  "It's three in the morning and you're drunk. Everything looks different."

  "True." He sipped on the coffee. "I busted in on you, I'm sorry about that. I just needed to get away from it all."

  She put her hand on his. It closed around hers as if he was grabbing onto a lifeline.

  "They say the pain will ease. But it will never go away. It will be replaced by warm memories of your father. That is what is going to sustain you. Myles, you have a rich history dating back to 1650 that your great-grandfather, grandfather, father and faith have instilled in you. It is now up to you to carry that history forward. That is what your father has given you. For now you grieve, for it's the only way you can heal. What you cannot ever do is lose control. Too many lives are depending on you to make it through this difficult time. Until you are strong and can deal on your own, you have my shoulder to lean on."

  His hand tightened on hers. He leaned forward placing his head on her hand. The tears dropped. No sound was made, only tears dropping onto her hand.

  She kneeled beside him, placing his hand on her shoulder as he slid to the floor. His arms wrapped over her shoulders, around her neck pulling her closer as the heart wrenching sobs left his body. Her arms circled his waist, holding him tight, doing all she could to take the grief from him. Her hands rubbed his back, consoling him with her touch.

  "Let it out, Myles." Her soothing words continued to flow. "This sharp pain will pass but for now, you feel it, embrace it, then let go, baby, just let it go." She kissed his neck. "It will be all right, Myles. It will." Her tears fell to his cheek.

  That was when he realized he had brought his pain to her. "I'm sorry, Chrystina." He kissed her neck. "I never meant to bring my problems to you. I'm sorry, baby. Please don't cry." He kissed her cheek, then held her at arms’ length, wiping her tears away with his thumb. She cupped his face in her hands, then wiped his tears away with her thumbs. The gentle caress sent shivers through his body. Their eyes met and before he knew it he was kissing her and she was kissing him.

  The sweetness of her tongue was smothering the hurt. The deeper he explored, the less intense the pain was. Suddenly there was a driving need for her touch, her taste building up in him. They moved from their knees to the floor, his hands roaming her body. His tongue ravishing her mouth; her sweetness encompassing his hurt. It was as if he never needed anything more in his life than her...just her around him. Falling between her thighs sent a surge of heat to his groin. He wanted her, had to have her. She was his lifeline.

  "Chrystina," he called out as his hands moved to her thighs, feeling the smooth thickness in the palms of his hands. "Tell me to stop, Chrystina."

  "Don't stop, Myles," he thought he heard her say.

  His fingers felt the moistness between them as he pushed the thin material aside. He freed himself from the sweat pants and entered her.

  He gasped. She gasped. They were one. Her inner lips clung to him. Pulling the hurt, replacing it with pure joy, the likes of which he had never experienced.

  "Chrys," he moaned out.

  "You're safe, Myles." She pushed up to him.

  "Chrys." He pulled out then entered her again. This sensation was more intense than the first. Every time he went deeper the less pain he felt. His body went deeper in search of the joy, the pleasure, the explosion. It filled the air. He lay on top of her, his head in the crook of her neck, her rapidly beating heart radiating through her breasts and her arms still caressing his back.

  He rolled to the side, withdrawing from her. They both lay there on their backs trying to control their breathing. Neither saying a word.

  He needed to say something, do something. The words would not come. He slid his hand over, taking hers.

  "Chrystina..." He couldn't think of one word to say to explain or excuse his actions. What he did was wrong. He used her to relieve his anger, his pain. Lying on the floor was not going to solve the problem. He stood, pulling her up with him.

  He
brushed the strands of hair that had come loose away from her face then immediately felt ashamed. He wanted to kiss her again. He never thought of himself as a selfish person, but there it was.

  He was still holding her hand when she said, "Umm..." She swallowed. "I get tested regularly for certain things. As of three months ago I was clean."

  She looked as if she was going through a checklist in her mind. "Chrystina...."

  "This is important." She squeezed his hand. "I'm on birth control. You can thank my sister and her children for that. This happened in my home. Only you and I know. Therefore you don't have to be concerned with HR, harassment, you know all that stuff." She waved a hand through the air. "We're okay," she said as she looked into his eyes. "We're okay."

  But he wasn't okay. Something changed within him. He just couldn't put his finger on what.

  Hours later he buried his father.

  Myles pushed his chair back from his desk forcing the memory away. He walked across the plush carpet of his office to the bar. Taking down a glass from the rack, he dropped in two cubes of ice from the mini bar, then poured cognac over them. That night changed his life. His father was no longer with him, that was true. However, a rich heritage and the responsibility to carry the bank forward, in addition to being strong for his family were instilled in him. They depended on him now. The question in his mind was whom did he turn to now?

  "Mr. Dunning." Chrystina's voice came through the intercom. "Michael is here."

  "Thank you, Chrystina."

  Taking a swallow, he sat on one of the bar stools and allowed the smooth liquid to coat his throat.

  Looking down into the glass, he sighed. "Dad, how am I supposed to fill your shoes? You wore a size fourteen, I'm barely a twelve." He bowed his head to say a silent prayer.

  Chapter Four

  "You are going to need a little bit more than prayer here, big brother. It's all on your shoulders now." Michael smiled as he stood in the doorway.

  Myles looked up to what he considered a stupid grin on his brother’s face. He smiled as he stood to walk back over to his desk, placing the glass there.

  "This is the last thing I wanted, you know that,” Myles said as he pointed to Mike. “Grace could have easily taken the CEO position."

  "Mitch would have taken Grace through too much crap and she would have eventually killed him. Her temperament is not the best when it comes to him. As for the alternative, how would the employees fare with Mitch at the helm? What's more important is how would Dad feel knowing you let Mitch do what he has been trying to do behind his back for years?"

  Sitting back in the chair, Myles sighed. "I know. Now, he'll try to do it behind my back."

  "No questions about it, Mitch is going to try you at every turn, Myles, that's for certain. Knock him out with a firm punch. Let him know from jump you are not taking that crap off of him."

  "He is a valued employee, Mike. Let's keep that in mind."

  "I beg to differ with you on that. As I see it, I saved you a lot of embarrassment." He shook his head as he walked to the bar and poured himself a drink. "That mother of ours was ready to do whatever was needed to keep DBT in the family."

  "It was in her eyes for everyone to see," Myles agreed, "including Mitch."

  Michael took a seat in front of Myles’ desk. "What are your plans for Mitch?"

  "What do you mean?"

  "You are going to get rid of him, aren't you?"

  Myles shrugged. "Not if he doesn't give me reason."

  Michael sat up. "Are you serious? You know how many times he attempted to do little deals behind Dad's back?"

  "No, Mike, tell me about them," Myles replied sarcastically.

  "Myles, I am not trying to tell you how to handle your job, but even Captain Kirk never let Kahn onto the Enterprise."

  Myles laughed at his brother's obsession with all things Star Trek. "Protect the Enterprise at all cost."

  "Damn straight."

  "Hey," Grace interrupted, as she knocked on the open door. "Where is Mr. Spock when you need him?" she joked then looked at Myles. "So, do I have to call you Mr. Big Brother CEO now?"

  Myles smiled at his sister with the split personalities. There was the very conservative, stubborn professional Grace that she portrayed in the office and the wild, uninhibited Heather outside. "No, you can just call me Mister."

  "Ah, like in The Heat of the Night?" she said as she took the other seat in front of Myles’ desk. "You know the famous line, 'They call me Mister Tibbs.'"

  "I'll just call you grouchy," Gary stated, as he walked into the office behind Grace, then slumped on the end of Myles’ desk. "I can't believe you were that mean in the meeting."

  "This was your first board meeting. Wait until you really see him in action," Grace said, as she walked over to the bar. She pulled out two bottles of water, tossing one to Gary just as he hopped into her seat.

  Gary grinned at her as Mike spoke.

  "Yes, he and Dad were a tag team match of decorum in the board room. Where one left off preaching, the other one picked up. At the end of the day it felt as if you were leaving the principal's office."

  "You should know," Myles laughed. "As much as Dad had to pick you up from there."

  "That was his own fault for insisting we go to public schools." Gary laughed. "We never would have experienced half the stuff we did if we had gone to private school."

  "True, nor would we have had such a plethora of women." Michael reached out as Gary gave him a fist bump.

  "That's why you were always in the principal’s office, Mike," Grace laughed from the edge of Myles’ desk.

  "One fight after another over someone’s girlfriend," Myles added.

  "If he only knew how much I learned from the girls in the public school system, he might have sent all of us to boarding school."

  "Ah yes, my first was Mrs. Granger." Gary closed his eyes and sighed as if remembering.

  "Mrs. Granger?" Myles raised an eyebrow. "Wasn't she your history teacher?"

  "Memorable lessons she taught, whew...." He nodded. "That's why I'm a history buff to this day."

  "Are you serious?" Grace glared at her youngest brother.

  "I loved Mrs. Granger," Mike added. "She was the best teacher I ever had."

  Gary laughed as he opened his eyes. "And she liked you too. Told me so several times."

  "I don't believe you... either of you." Grace frowned.

  "Umm, believe them." Myles nodded.

  Gary laughed as he looked at Grace's expression. "Well, Mother always stated she did not want pampered millionaires for children. She wanted her children to have normal childhoods."

  "There is nothing normal about having sex with your teachers." Grace gasped.

  "Hmm....." Myles chuckled. "It was in our world. Look we all know Dad's purpose in life was to make Winnieford happy. She wanted us in public schools so we would not turn out like Uncle Walker."

  "As Dad always said, 'happy Winnie, happy life'."

  Silence fell on the room as Myles took a moment to remember their larger-than-life father.

  Gary held up his bottle. "Here's to Dad and his relentless lectures on the importance of having a happy family."

  Myles smiled, remembering the many talks about supporting each other, and finding true love.

  "To Dad," they said in unison then took a drink in their father's honor.

  "Dad had two passions in life." Myles sat his glass down. "Winnieford and Dunning Bank & Trust. It's up to us to continue his legacy. Michael, close the door," Myles said in a somber tone.

  Michael complied as they all took a seat to listen to their big brother who was now the head of the family.

  "We have some issues that have to be addressed. First will be the reading of the will."

  "Mother was right to delay the reading until after the vote on Dunning was settled," Grace sated. "There is going to be push back, Myles, especially from Uncle Walker. That letter the attorney gave to Mother granting her control of the b
ank is going to send him into a tailspin."

  Nodding, Myles sat forward in the chair. "My only concern with Uncle Walker is Mother. Once the will is read in its entirety I am certain he will attempt to contest it. Proclaim Mother is not the legal heir."

  "On what grounds?" Mike sat up.

  "It’s no secret how he feels about Mother," Grace said. "He has always believed Dad married down. That she only married him for his money."

  "We know that couldn't be further from the truth." Gary smirked. "Anyone with a grain of sense could see those two were written in the book."

  "Operative word, sense." Mike shook his head. "Uncle Walker doesn’t have any. He deals in greed only." He turned to Myles. "Would he have any ground for contesting Dad's will?"

  "No," Grace replied. "But he will still try. I say we leave Uncle Walker to his own demise."

  "Yes, he is pretty good at destroying himself." Mike shrugged.

  "How could he be so different from Dad and Aunt Vivian?" Gary sighed. "Are we sure he is a Dunning? I mean do we have proof?"

  "That is not our cross to bear," Myles stated. "He carries the last name of Dunning, therefore he is family. What he is not going to do is upset Winnieford. She is going through enough as it is with Dad's death and AnnieMarie feeling guilty."

  "Have you talked to her, Grace?" Mike asked.

  "I have tried." She shook her head. "No progress. That guilt is eating her up."

  "Well." Myles sat forward. "It is our duty to help both of them through this. For now, Grace, keep tabs on the reading date for the will. I want us to all be home for that. Above all, make sure Winnieford is protected. Now." He cleared his throat. "Let's talk about Dunning."

  "The serious voice just came out," Grace announced. "What's up?"

  "There are some issues that could be potentially damaging to the bank. It seems we are being hit from different directions. Until I know who is fully committed to our success we are keeping this within the family."

  "What about AnnieMarie?" Gary asked.

  "As soon as she is ready to come back we will fill her in." Myles stared at him. "That goes for Mother as well. I do not want her concerned about Dunning. Everyone get my drift?"