“Let’s hop on the treadmill after yoga. You can tell me all about last night. Spencer didn’t want to talk about it.”
I don’t blame him. I’m not going to say too much about it, either. “Sounds perfect. See you at the gym.”
“Great. See you there.”
A few minutes later Alisha pulled into the driveway of the two-bedroom home she’d bought for herself. From the flowers she’d planted along the path, to the shutters she’d bought at a yard sale and refinished, she loved every inch of it. It was hers. She could have moved to Boston as many people did after college, but she’d chosen to stay in the suburbs. Why load herself up with more debt just to be living in Boston? And it wasn’t in her heart. She’d always been impressed with the simplicity of Stephanie and Mark’s life and knew she wanted something similar for herself. Her home was simple and beautiful. She liked to think it represented the life she’d made for herself.
Alisha changed into yoga pants and a fitted black tank top. The thinner she got, the more colorful her gym outfits became, but for now she was still in her winter-weight dark attire. She made a salad and ate while reading over the journals of the children who hadn’t met with her that day, then quickly wrote notes on each and added smiley stickers to those who had completed work.
After stuffing her rolled-up mat, a towel, and water into a bag, she raced out the door and came to a skidding stop when she saw Brett leaning against a silver sports car parked behind her Honda Civic.
With his charcoal suit and dark glasses, he looked out of place in the driveway. Alisha’s breath caught in her throat as he pushed off the car and straightened. She didn’t appreciate the way her body warmed as he approached her. “If you’re looking for Spencer, he’s not here.”
“I know.”
Alisha almost took a step back, but she forced herself to stand her ground. He came to a stop a foot from her. Close enough to set Alisha’s heart beating wildly in her chest with an odd mix of nerves and excitement. He was really better-looking than any man had the right to be. “I’m not sure what you think we have to say to each other.”
He removed his glasses. There they were, those blue eyes she found impossible to look away from. She told herself she was imagining it, but she could have sworn there was sadness in them. Did his gruff exterior protect a man who’d experienced pain? In terms of worldly possessions and all things sought after, he had everything. But something had torn through him.
As one long moment dragged into two, she became sure he’d come to apologize and was having difficulty choosing his words. He probably felt horrible about the first impression he’d given her. She nodded at him in encouragement.
“How much would it take for you to not marry my brother? Fifty thousand? A hundred thousand? Name your price.”
Alisha gasped as his words sank in. I did not see that coming. “You should go.”
He leaned into her space. “Two hundred.”
You’re getting less attractive the more you speak. “Sorry to disappoint you, but not everyone can be bought. There isn’t an amount you could offer that would be enough.”
“I don’t believe you,” he said matter-of-factly.
“It doesn’t matter if you believe me. It’s the truth.”
“Everyone has a price.”
“Then you know the wrong people.”
He seemed to weigh her claim for a moment before saying, “You don’t love Spencer.”
“Wrong again.” She did, even if it wasn’t in a romantic way. He was the little brother she’d never been fortunate to actually have.
Brett straightened and frowned. “You were dating someone else until two weeks ago.”
As far as Alisha knew, Brett didn’t talk to Rachelle often, and she couldn’t imagine that her dating life was a topic of discussion when they did speak. “How do you know that?” Alisha decided it didn’t matter. Instead of waiting for an answer, she waved a hand at him and demanded, “Why are you so determined to sabotage your brother?”
His head snapped back. “I’m not.”
“He needs the money for his company.”
“My father would give him a loan. I’ve offered to invest in his company. He doesn’t have to marry you—” Brett was smart enough to stop there.
Had Alisha actually been dreaming of living happily ever after with Spencer, she would have been hurt by Brett’s stance. She took a deep, calming breath. Regardless of what a jackass he was, this was Rachelle’s brother. She remembered what Spencer had said about always hoping things would go better. She owed so much of the happiness she’d found to the Westerlys’ welcome. They taught me what a healthy family life could be like. Is this my chance to pay it forward? She called upon her kindergarten-teacher patience and said, “Coming here was wrong. Offering me money to leave Spencer is insulting and hurtful. If you love your brother at all, don’t do this. Leave now. I’ll pretend none of this happened, and you should try to support your brother in a way that leaves him with his pride intact.”
Brett’s face tightened with emotion. Alisha braced herself for what was likely going to be an even more offensive comeback, and considering he’d already implied her loyalty could be bought, that was saying something. He brought a hand up and instinctively Alisha flinched before she realized he was merely replacing his sunglasses. He paused and his eyes snapped to hers. No longer angry with her, he appeared to be angry for her.
How can that be possible? He doesn’t know about my past. No one knows all of it. She pushed back a twinge of shame and tensed defensively.
When he finally spoke, it was in a deep, gravelly voice. “I would never hurt you.”
Alisha didn’t have a ready answer for that. She didn’t want to think the past had any hold over her anymore. She looked away and adjusted her bag on her shoulder. “Please just go. I’m already late to meet Rachelle at the gym.”
He nodded, replaced his sunglasses, and without saying another word climbed back into his sports car and drove off. When he was out of sight, Alisha finally got into her own car and started it. She then seemed to lose momentum and simply sat there.
What was that?
Did he honestly think I’d take the money?
She remembered how he’d looked as he stood over her, still very much the arrogant man she’d met the day before, but with an underlying sadness that made her wish she knew how to help him connect with Spencer.
I don’t understand you, Mr. Angry Westerly.
She backed out of the driveway and pulled into traffic, unable to dislodge him from her thoughts. She had driven several blocks before she realized she was headed in the opposite direction from the gym. She used a side road to turn around and sighed. But if it’s any consolation, I understand myself even less.
Brett returned to his office and worked through the night. When the morning light fell across his desk, he stood and stretched.
I shouldn’t have gone to Alisha’s house. She was right about that.
But I had to know if money was her motivation.
Brett pushed out of his chair, moving to look out his office window as his mind filled with images of Alisha. My brother’s fiancée. He grimaced. That’s what she is.
Vetting her integrity didn’t change that.
Things would have been a hell of a lot easier if she’d taken his money. He would have instantly lost all respect for her. Instead, he found himself in the rare position of envying his youngest brother. No one had ever stood in defense of Brett, had her loyalty tested and then passed that test, or even claimed to love him.
Not the way Alisha had stood up for Spencer.
The women in Brett’s life were realistic. They understood that relationships, regardless of how heated they became in the bedroom, were nothing more than mutually beneficial associations with a healthy side of sex. Friends with benefits was too generous a description for his last several lovers. They’d been beautiful and passionate, but loyal? He doubted many of the men he knew were married to women who would
stay with them if their finances took a dip.
That’s how women were. They put their own needs first. A man could only be hurt by them if he forgot that. And I never will.
It was difficult to reconcile his views on women with his impression of Alisha. She wasn’t materialistic. Both her home and vehicle were well cared for but not pretentious. She was protective of Spencer even when it put her in what could have been volatile situations. He frowned as he remembered her flinch. It confirmed what Child Protective Services had suspected but had been unable to prove—her father had extended his abuse of her mother to her. The idea of hurting a woman was so foreign to Brett that he could hardly wrap his head around it. His parents’ divorce had been emotional for all involved, but even during the worst of it his father had never raised a hand to his wife or children.
That Alisha had survived such a childhood and had remained strong was remarkable.
Brett put a sticky note on Gina’s computer keyboard, instructing her to locate Alisha’s father. If he was still alive, Brett would make sure he never hurt Alisha again. How Brett achieved that would depend on the willingness of the other man to disappear.
“I figured you’d be here,” his father said as he walked into the office. Brett turned, unsurprised to see him in a suit. Neither the early morning hour nor the fact that he was retired had softened Dereck Westerly’s edge. “Did the German contract come through? I heard you hit complications.”
Brett motioned for his father to sit in one of the chairs in front of his desk and took the seat across from him. “I did, but it’s all ironed out now.”
“You look like shit.”
Rubbing a hand across the stubble on his chin, Brett said, “Long night.”
His father nodded. “I’ve had my share of those. Need any advice?”
Brett shook his head. His father was referring to work-related issues. As a child, even though Brett had chosen to stay with his father, he hadn’t known him well until he’d started working with him at the family company. Men as successful as his father hired nannies and tutors. He’d never had time to meet with any of Brett’s teachers or watch one of his football games. Later, he hadn’t gone to visit colleges or help Brett choose his first apartment. Business was where they’d connected. “I’m good.”
His father crossed one ankle over the other. “You should have told me you weren’t going to your grandmother’s birthday party.”
“Would you have gone?” Brett challenged. He didn’t expect his father to answer his question, and he didn’t.
“She’s upset no one went. That’s why she came up with the crazy idea of having all of you marry. She’s getting more erratic as she gets older. I can’t believe Spencer was foolish enough to get engaged because of this. Does he actually think he’ll get his inheritance early? The document won’t hold up in court. My mother is obviously not competent to manage her own estate anymore.”
Even though Brett had said almost exactly the same thing two days earlier, he didn’t like it when his father said it. It lacked compassion and loyalty. He could almost hear Alisha labeling it as hurtful. What was the alternative, though? Sitting back and watching his own inheritance be given away to charity? There was no chance in hell he was going to marry anytime soon.
I don’t need it anyway.
But Spencer does.
“Does it matter, Dad? It doesn’t affect you directly. Marriage might be good for Spencer.”
His father sat forward in his seat. “Have you been drinking?”
Brett folded his arms across his chest. “I won’t block him on this.”
Surging to his feet, his father looked down at him. “Marriage isn’t good for anyone. Name one person you know who is fucking happy after a year of marriage. One.” When a name didn’t immediately come to Brett, his father raged on. “See? No one. It’s a contract designed for failure. Till death do you part? Death doesn’t come as quickly as it used to, Son.”
Wow.
Brett had spent most of his life looking up to his father, emulating him. Listening to him was like looking in the mirror most of the time, but for once, Brett didn’t like what he saw. His father had had a long, successful career. His legacy would endure through the company, and he had enough money to live the rest of his life however he chose.
Yet, he’s here. In a suit. Alone and bitter. Seeing his father in this less than flattering light was disconcerting. It also prompted the question: Will that be me in twenty years?
“What was your father like?” Brett asked aloud, surprising even himself with the question.
“My father?”
They were entering uncharted territory, but Brett wanted to know. He’d heard of him through his mother, but never brought him up with his own father. I don’t believe we’re nothing more than the product of how our parents shaped us. Where did it go wrong for you, Dad? “He founded this company, so I know you had one.”
A flash of pain shone in Dereck’s eyes. “There is nothing to know about him.”
“Nothing?”
His father’s jaw tightened visibly as he sat back down. “He was a weak man. A selfish coward who may have started this company, but also nearly ran it into the ground.”
The emotion in his father’s voice was unexpected. It increased Brett’s curiosity. “Grandmother seems to miss him.”
“Because she didn’t know him . . . the real him.”
“But you did?”
“I stepped into his shoes, didn’t I? You learn a lot about a man when you do that.”
Yes, you do. Taking over Westerly Corp. was teaching Brett as much about his father as it was about himself. “He died of a heart attack, didn’t he?”
“He died of heart medication complications.”
It was an ambiguous response that Brett wouldn’t have questioned in the past, but his father had called his grandfather a coward. “He overdosed?”
His father stood and ran a hand through his now-white hair. “You’re the one person who might benefit from the truth. When I took over, I discovered my father had been borrowing money from the company for a long time, but he’d finally reached a point where it was due. He wasn’t man enough to face what he’d done, so he checked out for good. The weight of it fell on me. The cover-up. Everything. I negotiated deals I would have had a moral issue with had I not been so close to losing everything—compromising myself so your grandmother could stay in her big house. I’m not proud of what I did back then, but I would do it again because it ensured you would never be in that position. And I hope I raised you to understand that the welfare of the family should always trump your self-interest.”
You did, but I never understood why until now. “He died the year I was born?”
“Yes.”
Brett stood. “Did you ever tell Mom how he died?”
If his father had an Achilles’ heel, it was his ex-wife. She was another topic normally off-limits. “The doctors said it was accidental. What your grandfather did was a stain on our family history that no one needed to know about. Least of all your mother or grandmother. They would have thought it was their fault. That they could have saved him somehow. His death was better remembered as an accident.”
The weight of what his father had carried by himself made what had happened to him afterward even more tragic. “That couldn’t have been easy, and then Mom cheated on you.”
His father’s face blanched. “Where did you hear that?”
“I was in the living room when you fought over it. I was twelve and curious, but not fast enough to get out.”
“You never said anything.”
“Because you never did. You seemed to want people to think you had cheated on her. I never understood why. I still don’t.”
His father walked to the door of the office before he said another word. “Your mother is a wonderful woman. I was a horrible husband. She deserved better than what I gave her. Your mother wouldn’t have cheated if I had remained the man she’d married.” He closed
the door and the discussion as he left.
Brett sat back down at his desk, but it was a long time before he started working again.
Chapter Three
“This is your grandmother’s house?” Alisha asked Rachelle, as her jaw dropped in shock. The building rose up above its ocean backdrop like a mansion in an old movie. Its stone facade, as impressive in length as in height, boasted more windows than Alisha could count at a first glance. How many bedrooms would a place like that have? Alisha could only imagine. “Why did you mooch half my lunch through high school?”
Rachelle looked much less impressed by the building, but she chuckled. “Because my mother was a health food nut who didn’t believe in sugar. And you had Twinkies.”
“Something I knew you’d thank me for one day,” Stephanie said cheerfully from behind her daughter as she stepped out of the car. “I’m still waiting.”
Spencer joined them with his youngest sister, Nicolette, by his side. “Am I the only one who would rather be dragged across cut glass and then doused in lemon juice than go inside?”
Despite the delicate sundress she wore, Nicolette raised her arms in a pose that a weight lifter might use to show off her muscles. “Alone we are weak against the evil queen, but together we are strong.”
Stephanie shook her head at her youngest. “Your grandmother is not evil. She’s just . . . particular.”
Nicolette made a face. “Five bucks says I’m the first one she insults. It might be Rachelle, though, who needs to put on weight.” Her tone mimicked her grandmother’s. “Spencer, when are you going to get a real job?”
“Stop, Nicolette,” her mother chastised gently.
Rachelle chimed in, “Mom, are you sure you want to come in? Didn’t she say you were not welcome in her home?”
With a sigh, Stephanie looked up at the large wooden entrance. “That was a long time ago. She’s eighty, and no matter what she says, she’s family. Plus, she means well. Try to translate everything she says to, ‘I care about your well-being.’”
In the Heir Page 3