I park Delilah in front of the garage and start up the walk to the imposing house. It was built in the Neo-Classical style, all clean, elegant lines and imposing columns. A showpiece for the Craven name.
It still reminds me of the coldness that dominated when Mom died. I was ten years old, and her death fucked me up good. For years I locked my emotions inside, showing no reaction. I did as I was told, spoke when spoken to, and toed the family line.
But when I turned thirteen, I’d gotten tired of keeping everything inside. Puberty made me want to pour my heartache out for the world to see.
My father wasn’t impressed.
Maybe that’s because he couldn’t allow himself to experience his own grief at Mother’s passing. He threw himself into his work, leaving the nannies and tutors to see to my brother and me.
An angry, thirteen-year-old Ax had told his father in no uncertain terms that he was going to public school. I was sick of not having any friends, of being trapped on the estate day-in and day-out.
Christopher Craven didn’t appreciate being talked to so directly by his son. He’d doubled down on tutors until I’d taken a different tactic. He expected me to take over the family business. That meant I needed to have a good relationship with the town people who would be my future employees.
I filled my speech with so much conviction while exploiting all of dad’s upper crust ideas. As they say in Cape Craven, I’d pretended to be “stuck up higher than a light pole.” And it worked. Dad let me enroll in Cape Craven Junior High, which was across the street from the high school.
The first day, I’d taken a seat in front of the cutest girl I’d ever seen. Granted, I hadn’t seen a lot of girls at that point. But even in the days since, I’ve never found a woman as beautiful to me as Sabrina Jacobs.
I liked her, oh hell yes, I did, but I didn’t know the first thing about girls then. I was too nervous, too ignorant to say anything to her. So I set about making friends, knowing that no girl could resist the Big Man on Campus.
It wasn’t until high school that I felt ready to talk to her. I’d taken French class because she’d registered for it, and I was going down faster than a knife fight in a phone booth. Part of the problem was because I spent the whole class staring at her, mesmerized.
I finally got up the gumption to ask for help, and Sabrina, the sweet and wonderful girl that she was, couldn’t refuse. It didn’t take long for me to realize that she also felt the electricity that hummed between us.
We were made for each other.
Just don’t tell that to my dad.
I ring the doorbell, waiting for Wilkins to open up. The delay is longer than is traditional, so I ring the bell again. It isn’t until my third ring that the door swings open. It’s not Wilkins, it’s his grandson, Chuck.
“Ax,” he says, a little out of breath. “I sure as shit didn’t expect to see you up here.”
My eyebrow quirks at his colorful expression. It isn’t something his grandfather would have ever said when answering the door at the Craven estate. “Can I come in?”
He looks over his shoulder, as if for guidance, and seeing no one, turns back around and shrugs a shoulder. “Ain’t no law against it.”
I repress a chuckle and enter. The house looks much the same, with a few touches here and there that are different. A different expensive painting. A new vase of exotic flowers. Nothing too exciting.
“Is my father at home?”
Chuck nods. “He’s resting.”
“Can I see him?”
Chuck sniffs. “Hafta ask.”
I frown, assuming he’s saying he’ll have to ask my brother. “Look, Chuck, I don’t need to ask Brent if I can see my father.”
But he’s already making his way down the hall, then heading up the wide staircase to the second floor. I follow him. He stops outside my father’s study and knocks.
I prepare a speech that will get me past Brent. I expected to have to eat some crow with my younger brother. It isn’t something I relish, but Sabrina is worth it. The door opens, and instead of Brent, a beautiful woman stands there, leaning against the doorway.
“Ax wants to see his dad,” Chuck says, throwing a thumb in my direction.
The woman blinks but keeps her face expressionless. “I see. You can go, Charles.” Chuck takes off immediately, not even nodding in my direction.”
“Alexander Craven,” she says, crossing her arms, a sharp smile on her face.
“Leigh Craven,” I reply, casually placing my hands in the pockets of my fatigues.
Her eyes widen slightly. She’d expected to have the element of surprise on her side. Too bad for my stepmother, I did my research.
“Come in,” she says after a moment, moving back and gesturing for me to enter my father’s study. I do, and she closes the door behind me.
“Have a seat,” she says, motioning to the chairs in front of my father’s massive mahogany desk. I sit, and she slides onto the desktop, crossing incredibly long legs and tugging on the hem of her short, red dress.
Leigh Craven, formerly Leigh Ashford, is twenty-six years old. She’s svelte, tall, with high cheekbones and glossy black hair. Her eyes are gray, and her lips are painted a red the same shade of her tight dress. She’s my father’s trophy wife.
I never expected Christopher Craven to go for the gold digger type. My mother had been anything but. She came from a wealthy family in Georgia and had been the quintessential gentile Southern hostess. Leigh had the brittleness of an East Coast grasper. And the dossier I’d had compiled on her while I was in the joint told me all about her.
But it still didn’t explain how my father had fallen for her age-old tricks. I remind myself that I’m not here for this. Dad can fuck, and marry, whoever he wants. I’m here to get Sabrina’s job back and nothing else.
“What can I do for you, Alexander?” she asks, leaning slightly forward and giving me a peek at her perfect cleavage.
“I want to see my father.” I hadn’t expected a gatekeeper. While I’d expected Brent to lodge some kind of protest, in the end, I figured I’d be able to see Dad. But this added layer of insulation has me worried.
“Really?” she says, her eyes moving to the ceiling. “I heard your relationship with your father is a bit strained. And that was before you stole your family’s legacy.”
I take a deep breath. I can see that Leigh isn’t poised to become an ally. Still, I can’t lose my cool this early in the game. “I’ll admit, we may have hit a few bumps in the road. But he’s still my father, and I’m still his son. I’d like to see him.”
“I’m not really sure that’s wise,” she says, the blood red fingernails of her left hand beating out a rhythm on her thigh. “We try to minimize any little disturbances to your father lately. He isn’t well.”
I’m suddenly on high alert. Although I figured the old man must be slowing down these days, I never considered the thought of his health being at risk. “What do you mean? What’s happened?”
“Oh, you haven’t heard?” Her face broadcasts faux surprise. “He’s had a small stroke.”
My stomach hits the floor. “When?”
“While you were behind bars, Alexander. Your brother and I have made sure he’s had the best care possible.”
That doesn’t make me feel any better. “I want to see him,” I grit out between my teeth.
“I’m afraid that’s not possible. Not at the moment.”
I rise, my hands forming fists. I can feel my pulse jumping. Leigh stares at me, taking in my frustration, and fights a grin. “I’m going to see him,” I inform her.
“I can see you’re motivated,” she says. “And I’m not trying to keep you from him. Just give me a couple of days. I want to talk to him first, prepare him for the idea of seeing you. We take things very slowly around here.”
I let out a huff, unsure of how to respond. I feel like allowing this will set a precedent that will work against me in the long run. I force myself to breathe, to think thi
ngs through before I react.
What is your endgame here? Revenge against your brother. That means keeping a cool head and not getting distracted by things other than your plot.
Sabrina is outside that plot, but I feel as if I owe it to her. But pushing things now might not do me any favors. When you’re coming as a beggar, it’s best not to piss people off.
I move closer to my father’s desk to grab a pen and some paper. When I approach, I can see Leigh drag in a deep breath. Does she think I’m going to touch her? With a little frown, I grab a pad and a pen. Scribbling down my number, I rip the paper off and hand it to her. “Call me after you’ve talked to him.”
She takes the paper and graces me with a small smile. I turn to leave, but she calls me back. “What do you want to talk to him about?” she asks. “I want to prepare him.”
I quirk an eyebrow, thinking she’s likely just nosey. But I don’t see any reason to hide my intentions. “An old friend of mine used to work at the foundation. She recently lost her position. I want to get it back for her.”
Leigh nods and then smiles brightly. “Then you’re in luck! I’ve been talking to your father and brother about taking a more active role in things around here. I’m thinking about starting with the Craven Foundation. Maybe I can interview your friend? See if we’ll be compatible.”
My eyes widen, but I quickly contain my surprise. Working for a foundation is the well-trodden path of the trophy wife, so it makes sense. And Leigh might be an easier nut to crack than my brother, or my father.
“Sure,” I say. “Let me run it by her. Maybe I’ll bring her by sometime this week?”
“Why wait?” she asks. “Bring her up here tomorrow morning. Around ten? We can have some breakfast together.”
I nod. “We’ll be here. Thanks.”
She smiles, hopping off the desk and leaving a length of pale thigh exposed. “Anything for Chris’s family and friends.”
I hide my disdain as I make my exit. The fact that someone I don’t even know, someone who’s been married to my father for exactly six months, has now worked herself so completely into his life that she has the power to hire and fire subordinates rankles me.
I remind myself that it could be a good thing. Then I remember that she’d kept me from seeing my father.
Dad had a stroke. And no one even told me.
It hadn’t been in the dossier either. I pull out my phone, intending to call my agent and ream him out for his failure to fully report my family’s circumstances. Before I dial, I think about it carefully. If my agent didn’t know, and he’d meticulously detailed every other aspect of the business and the town in the last five years, then it was likely no one knew.
My father had a stroke, and my brother and my stepmother hid it from the town and from his business associates. From the shareholders.
The information I’ve been handed is heady stuff. I begin working it into my plot. It couldn’t fit more perfectly.
Even as I get a sick thrill at how well my plan for revenge will come off, I feel disgusted with myself. My fucking father is ill. He’s suffered a major medical event, and I didn’t even know. I could have done more, could have kept in touch with someone closer.
I feel more like a failure now than when I left the military.
Like a bigger asshole than I’d felt rotting behind bars.
Remorse covers me as I climb on Delilah. I ride for hours, trying to outrun the feelings of shame and guilt that course through me. I force myself to focus on my one tiny shred of redemption. If I could get Sabrina her job back, at least everything I did this time around wouldn’t be absolutely fucked.
She’d told me to leave her alone. I know she won’t be pleased to see me. But I’ve got to do it anyway. Leigh wants to see her for breakfast. Which means she needs time to prepare.
Delilah finds her way to the dirt road, to the little red house that belongs to the Jacobs family. I turn off the bike and dismount. Coming up the little stone walkway, I see a face behind the curtain, an unfamiliar one. The eyes widen, and the curtain comes up to cover the face. I raise my fist to knock on the screen door, but the inner door flies open before I can, and Sabrina tumbles out.
“What are you doing here?” she asks, grabbing my arm and starting to head down the walk away from the house.
I frown. “I was going to say hi to your momma.”
“I’ll tell her you stopped by,” she says with a grimace. “What do you want, Ax?”
“You’re going to have breakfast with me tomorrow.”
Chapter 16
Sabrina
“You’re fucking ridiculous,” I say, my eyes wide. Does he honestly think this is going to work? The gall of this man! Thinking he’ll seduce me into his bed again like it’s a foregone conclusion.
“Didn’t you hear anything I said last night?”
He raises his hands, palms facing out. “Wait a minute. Hear me out.”
“Ax, I swear before God—”
He puts a hand over my mouth. My eyes fill with anger, and I see him fighting a grin.
Asshole! How dare he?
I consider struggling, but he holds me in my place.
“You know, you’re always the most adorable when you’re angry.”
That’s it. I bite his hand.
He yanks it away and shakes it, then laughs. “I knew that was coming. Listen, Sabrina, I didn’t mean it like that.”
“Get out of here, Ax.” I start to pull away.
“It’s about your job at the foundation. I got you a breakfast meeting.”
I freeze. My job. “With whom?” Surely he hasn’t sweet-talked Ms. Birch. Ax is a hell of a charming man, but Birch has no heart inside of her birdlike chest.
“Leigh Craven.”
I’m confused. “The woman your father married? What does she have to do with my job?”
“In the way of the trophy wives that have come before her, Leigh is bored and so has decided to start meddling in my father’s affairs. The foundation is the natural place for her to start. So she wants to interview you tomorrow morning. She told me to bring you up there for breakfast.”
I run my hands over my face, too tired suddenly to process the words coming out of his handsome mouth. “I’m supposed to meet your stepmom tomorrow and ask for my old job back? And what about Ms. Birch?”
“Something tells me Leigh can handle Ms. Birch.”
I stare at him. His stepmother must have made an impression, and Ax Craven doesn’t impress easily. I’ve heard stories about Leigh Craven, even if I haven’t laid eyes on her myself. It isn’t like she spends a lot of time in town.
She’s supposed to be beautiful. Modelesque. And way too young for Christopher. A couple of years younger than Ax and myself even.
The cold fingers of jealousy begin to claw their way into my stomach. I try to brush the sensation aside. “Okay,” I say slowly. It’s a shot at my old job, which is sadly one of the best paying positions I’m qualified for.
“Good girl,” he says with a smile, kissing me on the top of my head, then heading back to his bike.
“Wait,” I say, calling him back. “How should I prepare? I mean, what should I wear? Do I bring my resume? What about coffee? Should I bring Mrs. Craven some coffee?”
Ax starts to laugh. “There’s the overachiever I know. You’ll be fine. Wear something pretty and let her know that you’re indispensable in your position.”
I nod, feeling foolish.
Ax climbs back onto Delilah. “I’ll pick you up at 9:30.”
I agree, then shake my head. “Wait. I’ll drive myself.”
Ax frowns, and I can see he’s about to get angry. Before he works himself into a frenzy, I wave my hands at him. “I’m not dressing up to ride a motorcycle to a job interview. I’ll be all ruffled and wrinkled by the time we get there. I can drive myself.”
“Fine,” he says, his expression blank. “I’ll meet you there at 10. Don’t go in without me.”
I nod, then
wave him away. He doesn’t look pleased when he pulls down the dirt road. I realize he wanted to pick me up. Maybe to spend the extra time with me.
That, or he wants to make sure he’s at the meeting. I’m not sure why, but I tell myself to not give it too much thought.
Focus on getting your job back, dummy. If Leigh Craven can get past Ms. Birch, maybe she’s destined to become your new best friend.
I head inside, and Lex is standing there, her face pressed against the glass. “Who is that man?”
“Just an old friend of Mommy’s,” I reply. “He’s helping me get my job back.”
“He’s got a motorcycle.”
I nod.
“Do you think I could get a ride on that motorcycle?” Lex asks, her face alight. She’s always been a tomboy, always been racing bikes and playing harder than the other kids, male and female alike.
“I don’t know,” I say, my mood flattening. Maybe in a perfect world. “You’re still young,” I say instead. “Maybe when you’re older.”
“Lame,” she says, then wanders down the hall to her room. I find Mom in the kitchen, peeling potatoes over the sink.
“Mom, wouldn’t it be easier to do that in a chair?” I ask, taking the potato and the peeler from her hand.
“Stop babying me, Sabrina Louise. I will do as I please, dammit. Now, what did the Craven boy want?”
I can tell she wants to say something more, to bring up what we discussed the night before. Instead, she stays silent but watches me intently.
“He’s set up a meeting with his father’s new wife, to discuss my position at the foundation.”
Mom’s jaw drops. “His father’s wife? The foundation? Are you yanking my leg, Sabrina?”
I laugh. “I know it sounds ridiculous, but Mrs. Craven’s decided to work at the foundation and Ax thinks she can help me get my job back.”
“The Lord sure does work in mysterious ways,” Mom replies. “Almost enough to think he’s a damn alcoholic.”
I laugh, dropping the potato. “Careful, Mom. That’s blasphemy.” I finish the potatoes and put them in a pot to boil. “Come on, let’s get Lex. You two can help me pick out an outfit for tomorrow.”
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