by Violet Paige
The Bastions had money. Old money. New money. Loads of money. Parker was a target just like the rest of us.
“I wish you the best, brother.” I held my pint in the air. He grinned.
“Thanks. You’ll be my best man, won’t you?”
I didn’t choke this time, but I wasn’t ready for more commitment. “Fuck yeah. I’ll be your best man.”
We sat outside and drank another round. I left when I knew I could slide into the end of the Castilles’s dinner party. I paid for the drinks as a congratulations gift and took off. Every stop I made me feel more lost. More distant. More remote from the people in my life. The distance was gaping. The trajectories of our lives had become divergent. And there was no fucking way to pull that back together.
11
Kennedy
“I want you to look at these.” A folder fell into my lap. I glanced at my father. He was dressed casually today. It was Saturday. A polo and khakis made him look like he was outfitted for yard work. He rarely budged from his Italian suits.
“What?”
“Numbers on last quarter,” he explained before walking away. “Go over them and I’ll see you in my office in an hour to discuss how we can project the fourth quarter. Take notes. Have them ready.”
“Really?”
“Financials aren’t something I joke about.” His eyes were softer than his voice, but I knew to take him seriously.
“Of course not.” I pressed my lips together. “I’ll meet you in an hour.”
I didn’t argue, but I stared at the back of my father’s head as he disappeared from the living room. I was watching a marathon of Choose Cheer before he interrupted. I pressed the mute button on the remote and flipped open the file. The spreadsheets were clipped together. I began to leaf through them.
I’d never seen his profit and loss statements before. Why now?
I sorted the reports into stacks. I only had an hour to make sense of them. That didn’t leave me much time. I was also painfully aware I was still in my pajamas. My hair was pulled up in a messy bun. I hadn’t bothered with makeup. I’d resorted to the same routine for days. A week actually. Since the horrible afternoon when I last saw Knight.
Something had to change. I couldn’t continue like this. I drew the files into my arms and marched upstairs to my suite. I could apply makeup and read financials at the same time.
By the time I entered my father’s office, Tammy, one of the maids was on her way out. She had left a tray of tea. It was the full silver service, something my father usually reserved for important clients. Something that was hauled out and polished to demonstrate he had taste. He was as refined as any other man.
“Sit,” my father spoke. He pointed to the table by the bay window. It jutted out into the garden close to one of the fountains.
“Over here?” I usually sat on one side of the desk, and he on the other. Always being scolded and instructed like a student.
“Yes, Tammy brought tea. She said you like orange. I’ve never tried it.”
“I do. Thank you.” I carried the file with me and sat at the table. This felt off. I cautiously prepared my tea with a few cubes of sugar, stirring them gently in the fine porcelain cup.
The tea service had been a wedding gift from my grandparents. I’d heard about it several times. How much my mother loved it. How she liked to polish it herself, afraid one of the servants would scratch it.
I was always careful with it, but I could never bring myself to use my parents’ wedding gift. It sat on the edge of the table. I noticed my father wore his readers. Glasses that he reserved for fine print and intense reading.
He looked over the frames. “All right. What do you have for me?”
“I didn’t have much time to go into all the details in the reports, but I think I have a few things to share with you.”
“I’m interested to hear what those things are. Specifics, Kennedy. I want to hear your specific thoughts.”
“Right.” I cleared my throat.
“Start with shipping,” he directed. “You did read that report first, didn’t you?”
One of the sheets of paper fluttered to the floor. “Oh wait. I’m sorry.” I heard him exhale while I crawled under the table collecting my notes and pushed back into my seat.
“Are you prepared or not?”
“I am.” I flattened out the sheet. My notes seemed frivolous now that I was about to read them to my father. “Okay, shipping.” It sounded as if I was about to perform a book report in front of the class. Something I barely remembered, but the feeling was familiar. There was a knot in my stomach and the inescapable pressure to perform perfectly. On command.
My father’s attention was sharp and focused. The words I chose mattered. Each one represented my analysis of the last quarter’s shipping efforts since he had redistributed half the company to New Orleans. It was going to take another year to make the full shift, but that was part of my recommendation for the fourth quarter.
“I think it would be a good idea to keep a quarter of the shipping in the northeast. I know you intended to be a hundred percent invested here, but I think the last quarter shows that the northeast is still strong, and you can keep diversifying. It’s safer and the profits are too dependable to shut that down and move it.”
He folded his hands together in his lap. “What about the hotels? The boutique one. Vieux Carre. I’m sure you know by now the Corbans don’t want me to buy it. They don’t think I’ve paid my dues here.”
I knew more about the boutique hotel now than I had when Knight first mentioned it.
“Dad, I think you should go for it.” I smiled. “That hotel will symbolize your position in this city. You can’t let the Corbans push you aside because you’re new blood. There’s nothing wrong with new blood. I think New Orleans could use a little bit of it.”
His eyes widened. “Those are my thoughts exactly, but I was wondering what you would say.” He grinned. It wasn’t often I witnessed my father look genuinely happy. I saw his fingertips twitch, as if he was considering reaching out to pat me in some way. Congratulate me for arriving at the conclusion he saw from the beginning. Only, he didn’t know I was capable of sharing his business strategies.
I didn’t either.
12
Knight
I surveyed the room. It was the usual collection of investors along with a few new faces. The bank opened a second room to allow space for everyone to gather around two sets of oblong tables. I knew it would be crowded. I knew the auction would attract a high level of clients. But I also knew I had spent the last few weeks making sure the word was out that Raphael Corban was going to be the owner of the Vieux Carre. There shouldn’t be any threats of real competition. This show of force was for the bank clients who didn’t realize who they were up against. The bank expected us. I assumed we would be out of here in thirty minutes.
Then she walked in.
I spotted Kimble first. He was easily a head taller than everyone else. He cleared the area before Kennedy walked in with who I presumed was her father’s attorney.
What was she doing here? I had made it clear Lucien didn’t have a chance in hell of getting this hotel. He sent her? What kind of plan was this?
The powder blue dress made Kennedy look innocent. Almost angelic. Her hair was pulled back in a low bun. Her lips and cheeks were a light pink. Fuck. She looked beautiful. I knew she saw me sitting at the end of the table, but our eyes never made contact. Could I blame her?
I had tossed her out of my apartment after bringing her to the pinnacle of vulnerability. I still wasn’t proud of what I did, but it had to be done. For her sake. It had tortured me every night since. She was the last thing I thought of when I fought sleep.
Lucien’s attorney held a seat for her while she positioned herself at the table far from me. I couldn’t see her face from the new angle. Kimble stood outside the room. She wasn’t the only woman present, but there were only a few others. She stood out. She was young.
Graceful. Fucking sexy. Every man getting ready for the auction noticed her. It was impossible not to. If it had been possible, I would have shuttled her into the hallway and tell her this wasn’t a good idea. She shouldn’t be here. Lucien shouldn’t have sent her.
I had to pry my eyes off her when the bank’s president stepped up to the podium.
“Good morning.” He didn’t bother to smile. He shuffled a tablet on the podium until the screen behind him was illuminated with the name of the bank and the property number. It was a stark contrast to the brightness of the room when the lights were turned off.
“You are here because of property 6-4-3-2-1-1.”
I just wanted him to start the bidding. Get the charade over with. Paul sat next to me. He had instructions from my father to annihilate anyone who came close to the hotel. I was there to represent the Corban name. To demonstrate the family solidarity. Paul had been my father’s legal counsel since I was a kid. A deal never floated across the desk that didn’t have his eyes on it.
The president continued to list the features of the hotel along with the tax codes and the registration numbers for the auction. Formalities bored me. From the corner of my eye I saw Kennedy scribbling notes as quickly as the president spoke. She didn’t need to put herself through this. It was unnecessary.
I stared at the podium. The president opened the bidding. I sat back, letting Paul handle our first bid.
The Martin attorney made a motion. I leaned near Paul.
“Hold off until he’s finished,” I instructed.
Paul nodded. “You know him?”
“I know the family,” I whispered.
“Anything I should know about them?” he asked.
“They’re new. Shouldn’t be a problem.” But I underestimated Lucien’s plans. I underestimated how he would react after I rejected his proposal. I rejected his daughter. He was out for blood today. He sent Kennedy in as the assassin.
I couldn’t wrap my head around everything that happened before it was too late.
Paul kept bidding, but Kennedy didn’t stop. I was certain there was a cap for Lucien. He should have given her details on when to stop. She kept raising the price. It surpassed market value twice over.
Fuck.
“What do you want me to do, sir?” Paul asked.
“Keep going.”
We were the only two in the room left bidding on the hotel. She didn’t know what she was doing. What consequences she was unleashing.
“It’s too much,” Paul whispered. “This is going to create a deficit I won’t be able to fix for your father.”
I growled. It was obvious she wasn’t letting go of the hotel. I wondered if she knew about her father’s offer to marry her off in exchange for the property. Did she have fuel of her own?
“We can’t back down,” I argued.
Paul shook his head. “I can’t. They are going higher than anyone in their right mind.”
I let my head fall. “Fine. Let it go.”
I shoved back from the table and strolled out of the room. I left Paul to clean up the mess.
I waited outside the bank. I reached in my pocket for a cigarette. The smoke swirled into the air. I resisted the urge to punch the marble pillars marking the entrance. I didn’t know if I waited too long on purpose or if I lost track of time. The doors opened and Kennedy descended the steps.
“What did you do?” I confronted her.
I couldn’t read her emotions with the sunglasses pulled over her eyes. Kimble flanked her side.
“I just bought a hotel.” But I didn’t see a smile or any sign of pleasure from her when she spoke the words.
“We should talk about this.”
She turned away from me. “It’s done. There’s nothing to talk about. You made it clear the last time I saw you.”
“Kennedy, no.”
Kimble stepped in between us. His hulking frame was a pain in the ass. It was pointless to shove him out of the way.
“Drinks?” I asked. “Let’s go talk. Alone,” I urged. I threw the cigarette on the concrete step and extinguished it with my shoe.
“My father is expecting me.”
“Let me at least apologize.”
“For?” She brought the shades to the end of her nose. She motioned to Kimble to give us some space.
“You know what.”
She shrugged. “I’m not going to do the work for you. If that’s all you have to say…” She took another step toward the black SUV parked in front of the bank.
“No.” My hand landed on her shoulder. “Forget the hotel. Just talk to me. Give me a chance to apologize for the last time I saw you. What I said. What I did. I owe you an apology.” The guilt had chipped at my soul.
I thought I had her. I thought she’d listen. I thought the connection between us was strong enough to undo the fucking stupid mistake I had made. I was wrong.
Kennedy climbed into the back of the SUV. Kimble slid behind the wheel. The doors were locked, and she drove away without saying anything else. When I turned around Paul was waiting at the curb.
“Ready, sir? We have to tell your father what just happened.”
I shoved my hands in my pockets and followed the attorney to our car a few yards away.
“I’ll break the news to him,” I offered.
“I get paid to do this kind of thing. I’ll do it.”
I buckled my seatbelt. “But you aren’t the reason we lost the hotel.”
“I don’t know that Mr. Corban will see it that way. How can you be sure?”
“Trust me. I’m the reason.”
I wasn’t afraid of my father. I’d seen how he wielded power my entire life. He taught me those skills. Trained me to take over the business. I couldn’t fear what I know so intricately.
I’d seen him cut men to their knees with quiet words. I’d seen terror cover their faces when they realized Raphael Corban had them by the balls. He couldn’t make me cower. I only hoped Paul could hold his own because he was going to need all the backbone and spine he could muster to tell my father we lost the Vieux Carre.
13
Kennedy
I flopped on my bed, kicking the high heels that matched my dress to the floor. I was supposed to feel triumphant. We had won. But all I felt was shaky and uncertain. That look on Knight’s face on the steps outside the bank. It almost made me crumble. Almost.
There was something in the way he looked at me that had nothing to do with business, and everything to do with regret. I could see it. The darkness. The endless spiral of guilt. The plea to make it right. I pulled a pillow under my face to block out the thoughts clouding my judgement.
He had gotten under my skin. He was in my head. I thought about his lips and his fingertips. I didn’t forget the hurt. The humiliation. I hadn’t forgotten how he cast me out of his apartment like a whore. I’d never forget that moment. Only, I couldn’t figure out which draw was stronger—the need to feel his breath. To look in his eyes again. Or the feeling that I was nothing but useless baggage, weighing him down. An obstacle to kick out of the way. I struggled to weigh the emotions. I was drowning in them. Tumbling through the darkness Knight had laid at my feet.
I lifted my head when I heard the knock on my door. “Miss Martin?”
“Yes,” I squeaked.
“Your father says dinner is at six.”
“Okay.” I couldn’t stop the hard lump in the back of my throat from forming.
“He wants you to dress up. He’s taking you out,” Tammy reported.
My ears perked and the pit in my stomach finally bottomed out. “What?”
“Dinner at six. In the city.”
“Thank you,” I called through the closed door.
I couldn’t remember the last time my father and I had gone anywhere together in public. I knew he was pleased with the auction result. But this? It was a display of family pride I didn’t expect. I scrambled off the bed and walked straight to my closet to pick out a dress. I had to put Knigh
t Corban behind me. The Martins had made their mark on the city. It wasn’t a day that would be forgotten anytime soon. By anyone.
“Dad, how did you find this place?” I asked over my menu.
He smiled. He rarely looked happy. “Did you think your father didn’t know the good place in New Orleans?”
“Of course not.” I grinned, but it faded when a tray of oysters was presented.
“Something wrong?” he asked.
I shook my head. “No. No. I like them. I just…” I didn’t want to admit that I’d had oysters once and it was a memorable night with Knight.
“Supposed to be the best in the city.” He was delighted with himself. I didn’t correct him. I knew where the best oysters were. And they weren’t in a fancy restaurant. They were in a dive outside of town I’d never be able to find again.
“I’m sure they’re wonderful.” I held one of the shells in my hand.
“You know this dinner is a celebration.” His eyebrows were high on his forehead.
“Oh?”
“You know this is about the hotel. I’m very proud of you, Kennedy.”
My chest warmed. “It wasn’t easy, but I’m glad you got the Vieux Carre, Dad.”
He tucked the linen napkin at his collar. He had to wiggle his tie to make space. “There’s something I think you should know about the arrangements. About how everything fell into place. Now that it’s official. You should see the total picture.”
We took a second to wait while the glasses of champagne were poured by our server.