Descent

by Knight, Natasha

  Not that it matters. There’s nothing left.

  I catch her eye in the foyer down below. Her mouth is moving, she’s talking to one of her nasty friends and even now, she still manages to express her feelings toward me in just that glance.

  She must say something about me because her companion’s gaze shifts up to mine.

  I don’t meet it but turn away, walk down the hall and toward my own bedroom at the opposite end of the corridor. I close the door and stand there, inhaling, smelling that hint of aftershave here too.

  He’d come in here before going to my father’s room. I wonder what he’d done. If he’d opened my drawers, snooped through my things.

  No. That’s not his style.

  He’d pulled the blanket on my bed back and left a package for me on my pillow.

  I go to the bed. I pick up the thick, black envelope with the stack of legal paperwork awaiting my signature, handy sticky notes pointing to where I should sign. Where I’m to put down my name and give up my family’s future, our legacy.

  The words hostile takeover ring in my ears, our attorney’s warning.

  “Fifty-one percent. It’s that or you lose the company.”

  It’s lost if Hayden Montgomery holds controlling shares anyway.

  And it’s not just that.

  I lean my head back against the headboard and look around the almost bare room. Just the bed and an old dresser left in here. Even the nightstand is gone. The lamp looks homeless on the floor.

  Homeless.

  That could be us. If I don’t sign these papers or come up with the money I need to save the house, not to mention the company.

  I set the stack of paperwork aside. The thick, gold-embossed black card slips off the pile and onto my lap. I touch the lettering, his name in its elegant font. On the back someone wrote a time and a place. No phone number to decline the invitation because this isn’t an invitation. It’s a summons.

  Eleven o’clock.

  Hades Gentlemen’s Club.

  But I don’t like being summoned.

  I rip the card in two. Do the same with the documents. I drop them to the floor and make a point of stepping on them, my heel digging a hole into the pages as I make my way into the bathroom.

  I slip my dress off my shoulders as I move, letting it fall to the bare hardwood floor. I step out of my heels and slide my panties off, then switch on the bathroom light. I run the bath and turn to my reflection in the mirror. Taking the irritating pins out of my hair, I drop them into the sink, pile the dark mass of waves on top of my head and use a soft tie to make a messy bun. I scrub my face clean of makeup and when I look in the mirror again, I see the dark circles under my eyes.

  These last few months have been hard. I don’t remember the last time I slept a full night since my father’s accident. Since learning the true state of things.

  Opening the medicine cabinet, I take out the prescription sleeping pills and pop two into my mouth, although I seem to be immune to them. I slip into the hot tub. Turning the tap off, I lay my head back and stare up at the colorful glass chandelier hanging from the ceiling. It’s from Venice. My dad ordered it for me after a trip there when he’d seen how much I’d loved the glasswork.

  Money. I’ve lived without it. The first eight years of my life I lived without it.

  Then my mother died, and I learned who I was. Learned who my father was. And coming into this house was exactly as I imagined, a Cinderella story. Although I’ve never allowed myself to feel sorry for myself. I have more than most, after all.

  I have a sister. Well, half-sister. And a father who, as soon as he learned of my existence, loved me.

  My stepmother is a bitch, but hey, you can’t have it all. The fact that I look like my mother doesn’t help. Neither does my father mentioning it every time he sees me.

  The thought of my father lying in that bed makes me sad, but I can’t let it. He needs me now. I need to be there for him like he was for me when mom died.

  And that means facing Hades tomorrow.

  That means swallowing my pride and doing what I need to do to save our home, our legacy.

  2

  Hayden

  I’m having breakfast when Peter enters through the dark, carved-wood doors. I look up from my paper, drink a sip of coffee.

  “Ms. Abbot is here, sir.”

  I glance at the antique clock over the door. Ten past eleven. She’s late.

  Folding the paper, I lean back in the comfortably worn leather chair. “Bring her in.”

  Peter nods.

  One of the older men at the table across the room rises, nods his greeting to me and shakes his companion’s hand before leaving. It’s only a moment after he’s gone that Peter is back. He opens one of the double doors and stands to the side.

  Persephone enters.

  The restaurant is only half-full, but every man turns his head when she steps inside. I understand why. She’s a beautiful woman.

  I study her as she looks around. She hasn’t spotted me yet. I’m in the far corner at my usual table.

  She takes in the space. The restaurant is a good size with several alcoves leading to other rooms. Heavy velvet onyx curtains separate the spaces. Dark wallpaper with the repeating letter H in gold leaf adorns the walls and sconces cast a soft light throughout. The large windows are tinted slightly so the interior is wholly separate from the outside world. The curtains that drape them are tied back with thick golden ropes.

  A uniformed bartender stands polishing a glass behind the antique bar and soft music plays in the background.

  When she finally spots me, she stops as if startled. As if she didn’t expect to see me.

  I get up, button my jacket, nod my greeting.

  It takes her a moment and I see her stand up a little taller, steeling her spine in preparation for our meeting, I imagine.

  She’s wearing a cream-colored suit jacket and a matching pencil skirt. Beneath her jacket is a white blouse with lace ruffles. Those ruffles flutter out at her wrists, too. Her dark hair is pulled back tightly from her face and she’s clutching a leather bag too small to hold the documents I left for her.

  Her heels click delicately, and I don’t miss how the eyes of every man in here slide over her lithe body. Hell, I don’t blame them, but the predator inside me is rattled.

  Mine.

  She stops before my table and her unreadable violet eyes lock on mine.

  I remember those eyes. I know how they look when she’s aroused. I know how her lips part just so as she pants.

  I clear my throat when what I need to do is adjust my cock.

  “Hades,” she says, her voice like smooth ice. She’s a woman now. No hint of the girl who first named me Hades. The one I carried out of the chapel that Halloween night.

  “Persephone.” I make a point of letting my gaze slide over her before returning my eyes to hers. “Welcome.”

  She snorts, pulls out her own chair and sits before she’s invited to.

  I sit too as a waiter appears. “Sir.”

  “Something to drink?” I ask her.

  She looks up at him. “Coffee, please.”

  “Clear my plate and bring us some coffee,” I tell the server.

  Persephone snorts again, studies me. “Let me guess, they don’t take orders from women.”

  “Correct. It is a gentlemen’s club.”

  “You’re using that word loosely, then?”

  I smile, lean back in my seat and study her. Apart from our short meeting last night, the last time I saw her was five years ago. And I remember it like it was yesterday.

  She holds my gaze and I wonder if she’s remembering that night too. And I know she is when her cheeks flush red and she clears her throat, busying herself with whatever is inside her bag.

  The waiter returns with coffee. After laying everything out, he picks up the silver carafe and pours us each a steaming cup.

  “That’ll be all,” I tell him without looking away from her. I pick up
my cup.

  She moves the coffee to the side and takes a stack of papers out of her bag. She sets them on the table and pushes them toward me. They’re the contracts I’d delivered last night. Ripped in two.

  I’m not surprised. I never expected her to sign them. That’s not the contract she’ll be signing at all today. Ultimately, yes, but not today.

  “I’m not handing over my family’s company to you.”

  “Then hostile takeover it is.”

  “That is your M.O., isn’t it?”

  “I’ve already spoken with members on the board. I have the votes I need if you insist on forcing my hand.”

  She grits her teeth and glares at me. “Who?”

  “You’ll lose more than you would accepting my offer,” I add on, choosing not to answer her question. “I’ve been generous.”

  “Generous?”

  I take another sip then set the coffee down. “When are you moving out?” I ask, taking up the question of the house which I now own.

  At that, she falters, fidgeting in her seat before pouring cream into the coffee she won’t drink and stirring for what seems like an eternity.

  When she finally looks up at me, it’s not the confident businesswoman who walked in here just moments ago. It’s the little girl I first met crying over her stepmother’s broken doll.

  But that’s gone as quickly as it came as she narrows her eyes at me.

  “What do you want?” she asks.

  I gesture to the contracts on the table. “You know what I want.”

  “Why? You don’t need the money. Your businesses are profitable enough for a hundred lifetimes. You don’t need to take over my family’s company.”

  She’s done her research. Good. “No, I don’t need to, you’re right. I just want to. When are you moving out?”

  “What would Nora think if she knew?”

  My jaw tightens. “Nora would say it was about time. But she can’t say anything anymore, can she?” I lean toward her. “Do not bring up my sister again.”

  She exhales, shifts her gaze sideways. Thick lashes shield her eyes momentarily. That was a low blow and she knows it.

  “That house has been the Abbot family home for generations,” she says.

  “I know your history.”

  “My father isn’t in a position—”

  “Your father made poor business decisions which left you vulnerable.” He’d taken some gambles in his career. I don’t mention my part in those gambles. But then he’d gotten involved with the wrong people when he needed capital. I’m not even certain it was an accident that left him lying in that coma.

  “And let me guess. You saw an opportunity,” she says.

  “I am a businessman.”

  “What is it you really want, Hades?”

  “I like how you say my name, Persephone.”

  “Then I won’t say it again. Although it fits, doesn’t it? God of the underworld. Satan himself.”

  “That’s not quite right. You need to brush up on your mythology. And here I thought I was helping you.”

  “By stealing our business and our home out from under us?”

  “Who broke off the engagement?” I ask out of the blue. “You or Jonas?” Jonas is my asshole stepbrother.

  She falters, her face flushing. “That’s none of your business.”

  “So, it was him?”

  She opens her mouth, closes it. Her jaw tightens as she grits her teeth.

  I grin, oddly proud of her. “No, not Jonas. It was you.”

  “Why does it matter to you?”

  “I’m just glad you came to your senses.”

  “This is none of your business.”

  “I think it is my business. We share history, remember?”

  Again, she shifts her gaze.

  “Or don’t you want to remember?”

  “Stop.”

  “You looked beautiful last night, by the way. I don’t think I mentioned it.”

  “Well, thanks. That just means the world to me. Asshole.”

  “I prefer that dress to this suit. Leaves more of you for the eye to enjoy.”

  “Fuck you.”

  “Is that an invitation?”

  She tilts her head to the side. “Are you hard up for a fuck? Is that what this is about? You want to get in my pants, Hayden?”

  I lean toward her. “Been there, sweetheart.”

  She flushes a deep red and has no comeback as she glances nervously around.

  “Back to my question. When are you moving out?”

  “I can’t move my dad out.”

  “Why not? It’s not like he’d know. He’s a fucking vegetable.”

  “He’s not. He’s breathing on his own and there’s brain activity.”

  For a moment, I feel sorry for her. But then I remember who she’s talking about. What kind of man he is. What he did.

  “I’ll tell you what,” I start. “I’ll arrange for him to be moved. You won’t be able to afford that given your current financial situation.”

  “If you’re trying to shame me, remember I lived half my life poor.”

  “The wrong half.”

  “Do you want me to beg? Is that it?”

  “Would you? Would you get on your knees right here and beg me to let you stay in my house?”

  “You’d make me do that?”

  “Oh, sweetheart, I’d make you do a lot worse.”

  “Why do you hate us so much?”

  I grit my teeth, wishing my coffee was a whiskey. “How rude of me,” I start. “I haven’t even asked how Lizzie’s doing.” Lizzie—Elizabeth—is her younger sister. A handful from what I’ve heard, one her mother, Irina, shipped off to boarding school as soon as the girl could walk. “She’s back home, isn’t she?” The only reason she’s back is the old bitch couldn’t make tuition.

  “Home is where she should be. Where she belongs.”

  “I’m sure Irina is thrilled with that.”

  “She isn’t.”

  I study her as she picks up her coffee, brings it to her mouth, then sets it back down. I wait for her to make the next move. To set the real play in motion.

  “I can pay you,” she offers.

  Here we go. I raise my eyebrows.

  “I mean, I can buy the house back. I can make payments and—”

  I chuckle, shake my head. “You won’t have a job when I take over Abbot Enterprises.”

  “I have money. I can get—”

  “Sweetheart, you’re embarrassing yourself.”

  “And you care? It’s what you want, isn’t it? Me on my knees? Quite literally.”

  “I wouldn’t mind you on your knees, but I’d keep you busy doing something more…enjoyable.”

  Her eyes lock on mine as she understands my meaning. She shakes her head, does that snort thing again. She’s a snob. Has been since she set foot in her daddy’s big house.

  She leans toward me. “You want me to suck you off? Is that what it will take for you to back off? You want that here too? Here and now? Me on my knees under the table getting my face fucked by the great Hayden Montgomery for everyone to see?”

  “The idea does appeal.”

  “You’re unbelievable.”

  “But it’s not enough. And besides, I’m not interested in my brother’s sloppy seconds.”

  “I’m not…we never…” she falters, starting but stopping. She looks around, her cheeks flushed. “How dare you?”

  “Oh, I dare.” But I’m surprised to have struck a nerve. Noted. “You’re not what?” I probe, my mind working to fill in the blank spaces she leaves.

  Her eyes narrow, jaw tight.

  “Sloppy seconds?” I ask.

  Her cheeks burn.

  I study her reaction. It takes me a moment to process.

  She rubs her face with both hands and when she looks at me again, her eyes are watery. Tears make them shine, make them sparkle like jewels. I’d forgotten that detail. Forgotten how pretty she is when she cries.
r />   Fuck. My dick’s getting hard again.

  I raise my hand and a waiter appears.

  “Whiskey.”

  He’s gone and back in a minute. I pick up the glass and drink a big swallow.

  “Early for that, isn’t it?” she asks.

  I check my watch. “I have a meeting,” I lie. “Let’s wrap this up. You want a reprieve? Time?”

  She swallows, nods.

  “Then you finish your sentence. You never what with Jonas?”

  She sits ramrod straight in her seat, eyes hard. “You’re a smart guy. I’m sure you can figure it out.”

  I lean back, tilt my head to the side. “You never fucked?”

  She clears her throat, unable to hold my gaze. Her shoulders collapse a little.

  I let out a chuckle, more out of disbelief than anything else. “But you were engaged.”

  “We didn’t. Period.”

  My body relaxes a little. I didn’t realize it was tense. I clear my throat. “I know Jonas and I don’t believe you.”

  “What I don’t believe is that I’m even having this conversation with you,” she mutters, obviously flustered. She lowers her lashes momentarily, again picking up her cold coffee, even taking a sip this time before facing off with me again. “This isn’t any of your business.”

  “Then why mention it?”

  “You suggested I was…sloppy seconds. That’s a disgusting term by the way.”

  “Why did you come to me with the contracts torn?”

  “What?”

  “You want to make a deal? A different deal? Is that it?” I drink a sip of my whiskey and watch her. “How far are you willing to go to save your house?”

  She stares at me and I see the battle inside her head, the urge to tell me to go fuck myself warring with the knowledge that her options are very limited.

  “How far?” I probe.

  She sits up taller, takes an audible breath in. “This is insane, and I don’t like what you’re suggesting.”

  “What am I suggesting?”

  She seals her lips shut and folds her arms protectively across her chest.

  “You want to play with the big boys, you’ll need to grow up, Persephone.” I push my chair back and stand. “Be out of the house before the end of the week.” I take a step away.