Borden (Borden #1)

by R. J. Lewis

  “Of course you can always marry rich,” she added, chuckling at me.

  “With all of the hundreds of young rich bachelors out there?” I gasped sarcastically. “God, why didn’t I think of that? I’ll just go and pick one out. I’m sure one of them will be interested in some poor waitress like me.”

  “Well, the clock is ticking, dear. You’re going to run out of time.”

  “I’m twenty-three, Gran! People get married in their forties all the time now! We’re in the 21st century, don’t you know? We don’t all have to marry at fifteen anymore.”

  It’s true. Gran did marry at fifteen. She was married to my Grandfather for thirty-five years when he had a sudden heart attack and was taken from her. Sadly, I never knew him. She never did remarry, nor did she look for another partner since.

  “Well, speaking of such things,” she started, avoiding my eye, “you’re not really seeing anyone, are you?”

  “No, Granny,” I answered her, returning to my carb-infested dessert and finishing up the last few bites. “I’d tell you.”

  She raised a sceptical brow. “Would you, now?”

  “I haven’t kept anything from you. If I was seeing some guy, I’d let you know all about it.”

  She brightened up a bit before casually replying, “I just think it’s important you know that I may be old and withered, but I’m also still a woman too.”

  “I know, Granny, I know.”

  “So, I’m not trying to pry, but I’m unsure if you’ve been seeing a doctor yourself and are taking care of your womanly bits. Birth pills and all that, I mean. Not that I’m forcing you to admit to any of these things if you’re uncomfortable.”

  I stifled a laugh. “I’m not uncomfortable, but yeah, I’m on birth control, don’t worry.”

  Her shoulders relaxed a bit. “Good, because it’s important, right?”

  “Right.”

  “What kind of birth control, may I ask? I know how forgetful you can be with your pills.”

  I stifled a sigh. “I got the implant in my arm.”

  “The implant, right.” She nodded, her thoughts still blazing red. “But that doesn’t stop diseases, does it?”

  “No.”

  “Are you making sure your partners are sheathed or clean?”

  I cringed, and suppressed another sigh. “Don’t worry, I haven’t… you know, I haven’t been with someone in a very long time, Granny. So, relax, okay? I’m on top of it.”

  “Good, good. And know I’m there for you, no matter what.” Then she shot me her sweet smile that went straight to my heart.

  “I know,” I nearly whispered, staring at her as I gulped away the lump in my throat. This woman loved me with everything inside of her, and I wondered how I could possibly deserve it.

  “Anyway, I’m glad because I’ve got my sights on a man for you.”

  Despite the shitty couple of days I had, I laughed for the first time. Leave it to Granny to try the matchmaker game. Again.

  “Oh, God,” I mumbled. “Who is it this time?”

  “He’s a doctor,” she answered, clearly proud of herself. “Ever since Doctor Brahim relocated, I’ve been going to him.”

  I laughed even harder. “Oh, so he’s your doctor? Is he old enough to be my dad?”

  “He’s very young actually. I wish you’d take this more seriously.” She gave me that wise up, child look I was more than familiar with.

  “So what makes you think a doctor will be interested in a poor little waitress like me? Is it that damsel in distress appeal? Is that what gets his engines revving? I hope not because he’ll be in for a surprise with me.”

  Now she was entering the serious side. She pressed her lips together and raised her eyebrows, letting the wise up, child look ten times more prominent now.

  “He doesn’t care about that,” she retorted. “I’ve showed him some of your photos –”

  “You what?” My jaw fell. She always tried this matchmaking thing but never had she gone to that extent before. “What do you mean you showed him my photos?”

  “I carry pictures of you in my wallet, you know that.”

  “You mean the ones I’m wearing braces, Granny? With my huge curly afro hair? I was like sixteen in those pictures. Now we’ve got a doctor into jailbait all thanks to you.”

  “Oh, shut up, Emma. These are recent ones from last Christmas. You are so aggravating sometimes, you know that? Really now, he’s a good man and I’m a wise discerner of people. I’ve already set you up with him next weekend. He said he’d love to take you out to dinner, but I need to confirm it before he books the reservations.”

  This was an ambush, I realized. No wonder she was so impatient to see me. I knew she meant well, though. She didn’t have one bad bone in her body. I would only agree to this because it would make her happy, and I felt like I wasn’t doing that enough in her life since being on my own.

  “I don’t want to know how long you pestered him to agree, but fine.”

  She glowed instantly. I could tell she was surprised by my answer. She must have thought this was going to take a while of convincing. “I’ll let you know the details once I let him know.”

  “Can I know what he looks like at least? Do you have a photo of him? You know, I wouldn’t be surprised if you did. You probably took one right there in front of him, you stalker.”

  She sighed in exasperation. “No, I don’t. But out of curiosity I looked him up on the computer. He has his own profile on the practice’s website. Doctor Joel Hedland off Amberway Drive, about forty minutes from where you live in Maple Street.”

  I simply nodded. “Alright, Granny. I’ll look him up.”

  “Good.” She looked at me some more, examining me with her watchful eye. “You said you went out with Lara, by the way. I haven’t forgotten about that. How did it go?”

  I shrugged. “I don’t think I’ll be seeing her again any time soon.”

  “That bad.”

  I nodded and said nothing else. I couldn’t. She knew me inside out. If I so much as elaborated about that night, she’d figure I was holding something back from her.

  “Where did you go?” she inquired, appearing casual but I knew that tone. She was fishing for information.

  “Um, Owls.”

  “The club?”

  “Yeah.”

  She was unimpressed, pursing her lips and all. “I hear a lot about that place. Know there are a lot of shady people that go there. Marcus Borden owns it, doesn’t he?”

  Just his name reminded me of today’s events.

  Of his lips and face.

  Of how embarrassingly riled up he’d made me.

  I tensed and cleared my throat, offering her a shrug. “Does he? I’m not surprised. He owns everything, right?”

  She frowned. “I suppose, but I like to deter from any place he particularly owns or even goes to. That man is a dangerous criminal.”

  Fuck, I would not be telling her about that kiss ever, ever, ever.

  “Yeah,” I weakly said.

  “A murderer,” she added gravely.

  “Alleged,” I corrected, much to her dismay. “Didn’t you say you shouldn’t judge a book by its cover?”

  She raised a sceptical brow. “Borden has no disguise. He’s evil.”

  I didn’t answer.

  Why the hell was I defending the asshole, anyway? He’d come to my place of freaking work for the purpose of intimidating me into silence, which I’d already been happy to do. Then he kissed me after I’d hurt him, turned us both on, and abruptly left! I felt so goddamn confused, it had made my head hurt just thinking about it.

  And why was I thinking about it all the time?

  “That poor privileged girl ended up dead,” she mused on, shaking her head. “Broke all our hearts when they found her in that river. It was all Borden’s fault. Had he never come back, she’d have continued being a harmless schoolteacher. She was so beautiful, so sweet. Shame. Real damn shame. It always made me think of you.”


  I sighed, picking at the crumbs of my cake. “Yeah, I know. You hounded me a lot to stay home around then.”

  “Well, you were always out.”

  “I know. I was a rotten teenager, and I’m sorry about that.”

  No words would ever describe how sorry I felt for putting her through that. They were dark years of mine. I’d been in a hole of depression after my mother took her life away in prison. I spent so much of my time escaping home, seeking…something out there in the streets and never finding it.

  “It was a hard time for all of us,” Granny said, reaching out to me to stroke my hand. “But we made it through. I’m just happy nothing happened to you.”

  I avoided her sweet face at that. She didn’t need to know the amount of times I’d been in dangerous situations. The dumb idiot that I was, thinking I could fight the world with my hate.

  The serious cloud eventually moved on from there, thank God. Not long afterwards she grew tired. I put her to bed when she begged me to sleep in the spare room.

  “It’s too late. The buses won’t be running now,” she complained.

  “The busses stop running at eleven, Gran. I have plenty of time. Don’t worry.”

  “But it’s dangerous.”

  “It’s not.”

  It was, but I knew how to handle myself.

  I left her to sleep and began packing the food she’d put aside for me into my bag. The smell alone was making me hungry all over again. She baked the tastiest foods. Leave it to her to fulfil the role of grandmother to a tee. It was a shame her daughter didn’t follow in her footsteps, but I didn’t want to think of my mother, or the fact she had sucked at baking, and cooking, and pretty much everything in life.

  After, I did a quick tidy up of the house. I washed her dishes and tidied every room, hoping tomorrow she’d have a good day resting instead of doing the chores.

  I dreaded going to this blind date she’d organized. I hadn’t been in a relationship in over a year and even that was short lived and highly forgettable. While the loneliness had depressed me in the beginning, I learned not to depend on a man to make me feel good about myself. I especially didn’t have time in my life to worry about making some other guy happy when I could hardly afford a week’s worth of groceries.

  As I was tidying up, I spotted her ancient laptop she’d purchased years ago and turned it on. I couldn’t wait until I got home to jump on mine, so I sat down in front of the kitchen table and decided to look up the doctor. The practice he worked for popped up immediately and I got to see a face shot of him on his profile page. He did look young with thick black hair and a long face. He was an attractive man, and I admit I felt less apprehensive about meeting him.

  I was about to close the computer when I stopped midway. Curiosity got the better of me. Despite burying the thoughts, I stupidly decided to feed them with more.

  I felt guilty typing in Marcus Borden’s name. I didn’t even have to write New Raven in the search engine to find he was in the top search results. There were a lot of photos of him and he looked exactly like today’s confrontation: stern, uninviting and emotionless. Even long before he made his fortune, he looked like a street thug; there were leaked photos of him in his early twenties, some without his shirt on. Intricate tattoos covered his once lean upper body, crawling up each arm. He was almost unrecognizable if it weren’t for those piercing eyes. Bastard cleaned up well, though the tatted look wasn’t off putting.

  In every social event like a party or New Raven’s charity balls, there was never a woman by his side, but he was dressed to impress, looking sharp and clean in his grey or light blue suits. I bit my lip, picturing the former photos of him merged into these, knowing damn well that beneath these suits was a tatted up body. And a beast.

  There were tons of articles on him too. Of his court cases and accusations against him; all shortly after he’d returned to New Raven mysteriously rich. This was the time he first purchased his club and began venturing out, and mouths ran wild at the level of money he was dropping. I heard the rumours. People said he’d been a troubled youth, in and out of jail, heavy into drugs and in debt with drug lords around our parts, and that he’d lived in a rough neighbourhood for some time.

  The main focus of most articles centred on an old love of his who was found murdered and floating in the New Raven River. It was interesting because nobody accused Borden of committing the horrible crime, but rather sparking a long chain of criminal activity afterwards. They said it was revenge that the two main murder suspects (who happened to be brothers) were found dead, their bodies almost burnt to a crisp a short distance from the river. But they could never surface the evidence that it was him who committed the crime. He had an alibi whenever he needed one. He had the knowledge and powerful league of lawyers when he needed them. He was, like everyone said, untouchable.

  I spent a long time suddenly questioning my boldness today.

  And kissing such a vile man.

  And getting horny by it too.

  Ughhhhhhhhhh.

  My stomach churned in guilt. Granny would kill me if she knew.

  After I finished, I cleared the history in case Granny was technologically savvy enough to see what I looked up; that woman never surprised me. Then I headed out the door and walked three blocks to the nearest bus stop, my hand in my pocket, gripping tight my blade.

  When I got home that night, I looked him up again.

  And again.

  And…(sigh) again.

  Twelve

  Emma

  The rest of the week was uneventful. Though I had Blythe and Tessa breathing down my neck about Borden’s visit, I remained tight lipped and unwilling to open up. Eventually they gave up, but they were pissy about it. Blythe was more concerned about me being in deep shit, but I assured her it wasn’t like that. Even though it totally was. Goddammit.

  Friday rolled around and Granny had passed on the news to meet Joel at the New Raven Square in the north of town. It was no wonder either, of course a doctor like him could afford to live around there. He said he would be in front of the Bistro Bay restaurant, a very upmarket posh place I’d never been to before for obvious reasons.

  I wasn’t looking forward to it. I sort of just wanted it done and over with because there was no way I was interested in being in a relationship. Especially when the last week I’d guiltily obsessed about Borden, part of me hoping he’d return to the diner to finish off that kiss.

  But yeah, none of that happened.

  I struggled finding something to wear. My finest outfit was the black strapless dress I’d worn at the club the weekend before. That might have been too revealing for a first date. I found a casual cap sleeve red dress with a long v neck. It definitely gave me curves in all the right places, which was a difficult thing to achieve lately when I dined on barely anything at all and nothing in my wardrobe hugged my figure the way it used to.

  I straightened my black hair. Without the loose curls, it reached almost elbow length. It was a bit plain looking against my colourless face. I couldn’t afford a decent hair cut so I needed a distraction. I settled with red lipstick. It was bold but I hoped it worked.

  It was just starting to get dark when I reached the New Raven Square. There were shops, restaurants, clubs and gardens all along this strip. I didn’t come down here too often. Everything was way out of my price range. I was definitely pressed for time, and it was made worse when I couldn’t find the place. There were many people roaming the streets, all fashionably dressed in groups or as couples headed in all different directions. Smiling faces everywhere. I felt out of place, like I was a wannabe in a sea of privileged people.

  By the time I found the restaurant, I was late, out of breath and my feet were uncomfortable due to wearing high heels made from Satan’s asshole. I spotted Joel immediately, standing out front with his back against the wall, staring down at his watch with a frown on his face.

  I hoped I didn’t fuck this up already by being late.

 
; “Hi,” I said as I approached him carefully.

  He glanced up at me and immediately his eyes roamed me up and down for a short moment, like he was checking out the product.

  His mouth formed a wide smile. “Emma, right?”

  I nodded, surprised by his high pitched voice that wasn’t all too manly.

  “Yeah, that’s me,” I said.

  Relaxed, he pushed off the wall and moved to me. He wasn’t huge, or anything, but he was tall and very fortunate looking (which helped overlook the voice thing). He moved in for a hug, surprising me with a soft kiss on the cheek. Whoa, that was fast.

  “I’m glad you made it,” he told me softly. “I was worried you wouldn’t. We’re running a bit late because of your tardiness. Let’s go in, shall we?”

  I blinked in surprise at his tardiness remark. “Sure,” I muttered.

  “You look beautiful, by the way.”

  I forced a smile. “Thank you.”

  He lightly rested his hand on my lower back (of which I squirmed away from at least a dozen times) and led me inside the large two story stone structure. In no time, we were escorted to our table by a gorgeous hostess. The entire way there, I gawked at the place. It was so big and bright, the tables and chairs plush and luxurious. I’d never dined in a place so richly set up before. There were tall glass windows that put my diner to shame, crystal chandeliers dangling overhead, and a long winding staircase to the second floor dining area.

  We made little chat at the table as the waitress dressed in a green, body hugging uniform gave us our menus. She was immaculate looking, without a hair out of place, just like all the others. Whoever hired them was very picky, I decided.

  “Did you make these reservations a while ago?” I then asked, opening up the menu. “I can’t imagine a place like this making a booking unless it was way in advance.”

  “Actually, I paid for the privilege,” he responded. “I put myself on the waiting list in case of cancellations. There was one three days ago and I paid a little extra for it.”