I dig in my closet. “What does one wear to a breakfast job interview? Something that says ‘I’m dependable’ but also screams ‘I like pancakes’?”
Lex giggles. “Egg on your face?”
I laugh. “I think that’s a given. I could put my hair up in a cinnamon bun.”
Now we’re all laughing. Mom takes a turn. “Break out the oatmeal face scrub!”
“Enough,” I say with a chuckle. “You guys are making me hungry.”
I pull out a few outfits and solicit their opinions. We settle on a coffee-colored pencil skirt and a tan sweater that reminds Lex of “latte foam.” Mom suggests a dark brown scarf and Lex shows me how the cool kids tie their scarves these days. I hang everything up for the morning then continue to fix dinner.
Over the table that night, I can’t disguise my nerves. I haven’t interviewed in ages, having worked at the foundation since I interned there the summer after high school. To say I’m out of practice is an understatement.
“Be yourself,” Lex says with a smile. “That’s what you always tell me.”
“That’s because you’re so darn charming,” I say, pinching her cheek. She blushes, swatting my hand away.
“I doubt the new Mrs. Craven knows thing one about running an office. Just dazzle her with all the things you do, and she’ll think she can’t live without you.”
I take a bite, mulling over my mom’s words. Leigh Craven is younger than me and seems to have little experience beyond hooking elderly billionaires. Maybe Mom is right.
“And it can’t hurt to ask for a raise,” she follows up, then takes a bite of mashed potatoes.
“A raise?” I shake my head. “I got fired, remember? I think her deciding to take me back is the best outcome we can hope for.”
“Know your worth,” Mom says, motioning at me with her fork. “You’re valuable, honey.”
I chew my chicken, wishing I could believe her words. How valuable can I be? I don’t have a college education, and I’ve never even been out of the state of North Carolina. The only reason I’ve made it this far is because the Craven’s barely use their foundation. If Leigh comes in and changes that, how long will I be able to tread water before I sink?
I barely sleep a wink that night. I feel as if everything is riding on this interview in the morning. And my anxiety is made worse by the knowledge that Ax is wrapped up in this somehow.
He’s as much as said he’s not here for any positive reasons. Does that include the word on my behalf? I’m sick at the thought of being tangled up in whatever kind of mess Ax intends to create.
I just want my job back. My life back.
I resent him then, as I stare at the ceiling at 2 am. Why can’t he be the man I thought he would turn out to be? At every opportunity, he’s thwarted my hopes for a real future. The best thing that can happen is for him to leave as soon as possible.
It feels shitty to think it, but the only man I’ve ever loved is also the only one I’ll never be able to have.
I’m tired the next morning, but I try to disguise it by a better-than-average makeup application and a gallon of coffee. By the time I’m packing up to leave, my movements are jittery. I manage to put my resume in one of Lex’s folders and to place it in a purse large enough to hold it. I drop the keys twice before I get to the car.
As usual, the old beast won’t start. Good thing I leave fifteen minutes earlier than I need to.
Driving up the hill, my car protests. My heart is beating against my rib cage. The estate is as gorgeous as ever, all gardens and willowy trees lining a manicured lawn. I park next to Delilah. Ax is already there, resting on his bike.
He cuts a dashing figure in his leather jacket and sunglasses. His smile is white against his tanned skin, his hair slightly windblown.
Goddamn, why does he always have to look so damn good? It’s enough to make a woman give in to temptation and throw caution to the wind.
Maybe some other woman, but not me.
I’m here for a reason, and it isn’t to throw myself at Ax’s feet. I get out, giving him a curt nod, then start heading for the house.
I hear his footsteps fall in line behind mine. I reach the door, but he rings the bell before I can touch it.
A red-headed guy in his early twenties takes a few minutes to answer the door. He’s wearing a band t-shirt and a pair of cut-off shorts. “Hey,” he says, opening the door. “She’s out on the back patio.”
I have a smile pasted on my face, which masks the surprise of such a casual greeting. With all the stately architecture and expensive art, to have a redneck answer the door is a shock to the system. I almost expect him to have a can of beer in his right hand.
“So Chuck,” Ax says conversationally. “Whatever happened to your granddad?”
“Died,” Chuck replies without turning around. “Heart attack while he was cleaning the leaves out of the pool. I told him to leave that shit for the pool boy, but he said your momma always prided herself on a clean pool.”
The smile tightens on my face, and I cut my glance to my companion. Ax’s face is neutral. “So you inherited his position as butler?”
Chuck shrugs. “Your brother said someone needed to do it until he could find a more permanent valet. The pay ain’t bad.”
Ax nods, and I tune out the conversation, taking in the luxury around me. I’ve never been in the Craven house. I’d been as close as the front gate, but never inside. I had this feeling that I was a secret belonging only to Ax.
His brother had caught us together in town senior year. Brent had been schooled at home by private tutors, which Ax had apparently done as well until he convinced his father to enroll him in public school.
We’d been making out behind the band room when Ax’s brother had thrown a rock that hit his brother in the back. Ax had gone after the boy, but Brent had run like lightning, shouting “Low class,” at his brother before turning the corner on the general store.
“Fucker,” I remember Ax saying. “He’s going to tell Dad.”
I’d tried to distract him from worrying about it after that, but the exchange had told me all I needed to know. Christopher Craven wouldn’t approve of his oldest son dating someone like me.
After I’d had Lex, I was sure to keep her parentage to myself. I didn’t need word getting around town that she was Ax’s. Sure, everyone knew we had been going out, but he left the summer before. There was enough of a gap to let people assume someone else could have taken his place.
Chuck leads us out of a set of French doors that billow with gauzy curtains, onto a brick patio dominated by a large swimming pool. At the far end of the pool waves a beautiful woman in a sun hat. She stands up, and I realize she’s wearing a bikini.
I look down at myself and frown, tugging the scarf from around my neck and tucking it into my purse. Talk about feeling overdressed.
“Over here, darlings,” she says, and I compose myself, walking confidently around the pool.
“Mrs. Craven,” I say, holding out a hand to her for shaking. “Pleasure to meet you.”
She laughs, a hand to her chest, leaving my hand unshaken. “Call me Leigh.”
“This is my friend, Sabrina,” Ax says.
“Alexander, dear,” she says, coming forward to kiss him on his cheek. A stab of jealousy hits me, and I push it away, keeping the smile plastered on my face.
We stand there, and I feel ridiculously nervous. I dig into my purse to disguise my anxiety, pulling out the folder and handing it to her. “My resume.”
She quirks a dark eyebrow at me. “Please,” she says, motioning to the chair across from her. “Have a seat.”
I sit, taking a deep breath. She pushes a button on a little remote on the table and a silent woman comes out of the kitchen carrying a tray. She sets it on a smaller table near ours and begins to fill our plates with scones and poached eggs and other breakfast delights.
“Have some juice,” Leigh says, pouring some orange juice from a carafe into the flute in
front of me.
“Thank you,” I say and have a sip, then let out a little cough. Ax shoots a glance at me. “The bubbles tickle,” I whisper, and he smiles.
The setting is formal luxury with a casual splash of bikinis. Up close, Leigh is even more gorgeous if that is possible. Her features are fine, her teeth white and straight. I catch her eyeing her stepson, and it rankles me, so I take another sip of the sparkling juice, trying to calm my nerves.
The folder is set to the side, unopened. “So tell me,” Leigh says, leaning back and exposing her perfectly flat stomach, “how did you get fired?”
It isn’t the softball question I’d hoped to start with, but I take a swing anyway. “I’d called in sick to work, but my boss caught me at the store getting ice cream and assumed I’d been faking.”
“And were you faking?”
Deception is out of the question because Ms. Birch will tell her how things went down and if our stories don’t match, it won’t look good. Besides, I’m a terrible liar.
“Yes. I’d needed some additional time off but had run out of vacation days, so I decided to risk a fib to take my sick days.”
“Sabrina’s mother was recently in a bad accident, and she’s lost a lot of mobility, not to mention countless doctor’s appointments and such. You understand.”
I shoot a grateful glance at Ax. Although I’ve never had anyone come to my defense at an interview before, I can’t say it bothers me. He smiles back, the warmth in his eyes sending a shiver through me.
When I glance back at Leigh, it’s clear she hasn’t missed the exchange between us. Her smile remains in place as she turns to Ax. “Your brother has been visiting with your father. I know he’d like to talk to you.”
She motions over her head, and Chuck lumbers back to her side. “Show Alexander to his father’s study.”
Ax opens his mouth to speak but she waves her hand. “Sabrina and I will be fine. I promise.”
Closing his mouth, Ax stands and follows Chuck, turning his head back over his shoulder to catch my eyes. I give him a brave smile.
Then I face Leigh.
Chapter 17
Ax
Chuck knocks on the door to my dad’s study, and for the second time in as many days, I’m annoyed that I have to be escorted to the study to speak to someone other than my father. Things have certainly changed at the old Craven estate.
“Come in,” Brent’s voice rings out.
Chuck opens the door and moves out of the way, allowing me to pass, then closes the door behind me.
Brent is behind Dad’s desk, his face buried in a ledger of some sort. “Sit down,” he says without looking up.
I bristle at the command in his voice, but I figure that now isn’t the time to make waves. It’s best to find out what he has to say first before I decide whether to knock his lights out or not.
A few moments pass, and I lean back in my chair, adopting a Zen attitude. When Brent finally looks up, my face is a perfect blank.
“You brought Sabrina Jacobs here to meet with Leigh.”
It’s a statement and not a question, so I don’t respond. Brent’s mouth compresses into a straight line. “I would have thought after a decade, you’d get over whatever weird infatuation you have for that low rent female.”
I remain stone-faced. I’ve never understood my father and brother’s prejudice against the very people who have made their fortune. The people of Cape Craven have always been loyal to our family. Why repay them with our snobbery?
“So you’re trying to get her job back? Any particular reason?”
“She’s my friend,” I say, staring out the window toward the backyard. I can see Leigh’s wide sunhat and the sun illuminating the golden waves of Sabrina’s hair. I wish I knew exactly what they were saying to each other.
“Your friend who got fired for fraud a few days ago.”
“Fraud?” I say, an exasperated look on my face. “She lied to her boss about being sick. If that’s fraud, then most of the workforce in this country is guilty.”
Brent shrugs as if to say he doesn’t doubt that. “Why should we rehire her at the foundation? What value does she add?”
“She’s a hard worker,” I respond.
“Obviously,” Brent fires back. “She works hard at taking time off.”
I school my features. This is not the time to take the bait. Brent wants to provoke a reaction, so it’s best that I don’t give it to him. “Sabrina can use the job. Her mother was injured recently, and Sabrina is helping her rehab. So she’s had to take some extra time off lately. Big deal.”
Brent leans back in Dad’s chair, and I have to force a swell of anger down. I hate how comfortable the smug bastard looks in that seat. “That’s not why she’s been taking time off lately,” he says, a feral smile on his face.
He’s hinting at something, something about Sabrina, and I want desperately to know what it is. But Brent is like a dog with a bone. If he knows I want that information, he’ll never give it to me. I’ve got to take another tactic to get it.
“Why are you bothering yourself with petty bullshit like this?” I ask out of the blue. “I know you’re basically running Dad’s business lately. The foundation has always puttered along without our attention. Why give a shit now? Don’t you have better things to do?”
Brent inclines his head. “I’m keeping an eye on all aspects of Dad’s business. The foundation included.”
“Must be hard,” I say, steepling my fingers and resting my hands on my torso. “So many balls to juggle. Plates to spin. Or whatever metaphor you prefer.”
My brother stares hard at me. “Craven Industries is important to me. I’m not the one who walked away to join This Man’s Army, then turned tail and ran back home to daddy. Well, guess what? It’s too late to ingratiate yourself now, big bro.”
Ah, here it is. What Brent’s always been afraid of. Me coming back to reclaim my place at Dad’s side.
“I’ve never had an interest in running Craven Industries,” I reply. “You know that.”
“Liar. You’d have to be a fool to turn down the chance at running a multi-billion-dollar powerhouse.”
“I’m not like you,” I remind Brent. “I don’t give a fuck about business or about making money.”
My brother looks at me like he can’t believe the words he’s hearing. That’s always been his fatal flaw. Brent Craven thinks the world wants the same things he does. Profits and power.
I want to choose my own destiny, with the woman I want by my side.
My brother made sure all of that was impossible. My fingers start to clench, and I put my hands in my pocket.
“I hear things aren’t as easy as they look,” I say, straightening up. “The shareholders aren’t too happy about profit margins lately.”
Brent’s face turns red. I’ve made my impression. I stand, putting my hands on the desk and leaning in. “I want to see Dad.”
Brent rolls the chair back. “That’s not up to me. That’s up to his wife.”
I laugh. “You’ve made that pretty little girl his gatekeeper. It’s not going to work.”
Brent smiles, but it looks more like a snarl. “We’ll see. Now get out of my office.”
I straighten. “It’s not your office yet.”
I hear him hurl an epithet at me as I leave, but it doesn’t bother me. Same old Brent. I feel a slight sting, not being able to find out what information he’s dug up on Sabrina, but then again, he might not have any at all. Brent could be toying with me like I’m toying with him.
Chuck is standing outside the door, ready to escort me back outside. I frown and consider losing him. I know my dad is likely locked in his rooms, but without ditching Chuck, he’d probably make a stink.
Besides, I have to admit to wanting to know how the conversation between Leigh and Sabrina is going. I head back out to the poolside table. The women are laughing as I approach.
“Alexander,” Leigh simpers, and a niggling of worry starts wor
king its way into my brain. I don’t like how friendly my stepmom is being. “We were just talking about you.”
“Were you?” I ask as I take my seat. “All bad, I hope.”
Leigh giggles and it rings false. My eyes turn to Sabrina. She’s flushed. As I watch, she picks up the flute and drains it.
“More?” Leigh asks, a sly look in her eyes.
I frown, watching as she fills Sabrina’s flute. “Leigh was asking me about what you were like in high school,” Sabrina says, taking another drink. I notice a bit of an undercurrent to her words.
Is Sabrina drunk?
“I told her about that time you were playing water polo in the semi-finals, and Tad Summers pulled your shorts down in front of the other team.”
“And everyone in the bleachers,” Leigh adds.
I shake my head. “Not one of my finer moments.” I put a hand on Sabrina’s arm as she goes to lift the flute to her lips again. “So, have you made a decision?” I ask lightly.
Leigh nods. “Oh yes. I’ve decided Sabrina and I are going to be best friends.”
Sabrina laughs, her eyes sparkling. She pulls her arm away and drains her glass. “This sparkling orange juice is delicious,” she says, licking her lips.
Leigh laughs. “We call them mimosas, dear.”
“Mimosas?” Sabrina looks confused, then a blush heats her cheeks. “You mean, the kind with booze in it?”
“The very same,” Leigh says, a solemn look on her face.
“Oh no,” Sabrina whispered. “I bombed it.”
“No,” I say, patting her hand. “You’re fine. Leigh’s going to give you your job back. Aren’t you, Leigh?”
My stepmother’s eyes are twinkling. “Of course, as a special favor to Alexander, I’ll make sure you get your old position back.” Her face all but broadcasts ‘You owe me now.’
Sabrina laughs, then covers her mouth. “Seriously?” she says at last.
“Yes, dear. We’ll do great work at the Craven Foundation, I just know it.” Leigh hands the folder back to Sabrina. “Don’t forget your Craven Elementary folder.”
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