TITAN
I SIT BACK in my seat at our custom black stone conference table. A skull is carved out of the middle. Kingdom is written in gold letters at both ends of the table. I sit at one, Bones the other. The thick, black curtains pulled closed to keep the sun out of the room.
Bones looks down at his watch and lets out a growl. “Where the fuck is he?”
“Grave is always late.” I state the obvious.
Bones called an emergency meeting after we got the call about Nick York. All kinds of red flags have now gone up, and we need to discuss our next step.
Cross sits to my right, holding his Zippo in his hand. The sound of him flipping it open and then closing it is grating on my already short nerves. My headache still lingers like a one-night stand refusing to leave after I’m done with them.
“We’ll start without Grave.” Bones slaps the table.
“I say we kill George,” Cross announces, straight to business.
I shake my head. “Dead men can’t pay debts.”
“No, but with Nick and George both dead, we can take the company,” he counters.
I snort. “And exactly what are you going to do with it? You don’t have enough spare time as it is.”
“The company is not up for grabs,” Bones states. “Titan is correct about already being spread too thin. Plus, I don’t want the hassle.”
“I’m sure Nick has left it to Emilee. She would be more than willing to sell it to us.” Cross shrugs.
“How would you know what she would do?” I ask.
“Common sense. She doesn’t even live here. You think she’ll move back here to take it over?” He shakes his head.
Okay, let’s try another way. “What do you know about construction?”
He rolls his eyes. “It can’t be that hard.”
Just then the door opens, and Grave enters the conference room. His blue eyes are red. His dark hair stands up in every direction and his clothes are wrinkled. He looks like he just woke up on the side of the street, which could be a very likely possibility.
Bones stands from his chair and crosses his arms over his chest as his little brother falls into a black leather chair. Lifting his chin, he glares down at him. “Where in the fuck have you been?” Bones demands.
“Don’t start.” He throws back his can of Red Bull like it’s a shot. “You should be glad I even made an appearance.”
Bones slaps his hands down on the table. “This is serious!” he shouts. “We were recently notified that George wasn’t going to pay us, and now his partner is dead. Looks pretty fucking suspicious to me.”
“Hey, I told you that we shouldn’t have loaned George that money,” Grave argues.
Cross lets out a whistle, and I shake my head.
Bones drops his head and runs his hand through his spiked hair. I’m just waiting for him to drag his brother across this conference table. It wouldn’t be the first time. The only difference between Bones and Grave is that Bones is sober enough to actually do some damage at the moment. “He came to us and needed the money. We loaned it. That’s it. Now that it’s time for him to pay up, he wants to back out on his word, and we don’t fucking tolerate that.” Bones is saying all of this through gritted teeth.
I gotta say he’s got more restraint than usual.
“Are we sure the money was for George?” I ask.
Three sets of eyes land on mine.
“Who would it have been for?” Cross asks with a rise of his brow.
“Nick,” Bones answers, knowing what I’m thinking. He falls into his seat.
I sit up straighter. “He’s come to us before, and we helped him out.”
“He also paid us back,” Cross says. “Sooner than we had agreed on.”
Four years ago
“What can we do for you, Nick?” I ask as he enters the conference room. He had called up Bones an hour ago and said he needed to speak to us immediately.
I don’t have a problem with the man, but his daughter, on the other hand …
“I need a favor,” he announces, straightening his tie nervously.
“What is it?” Bones asks, standing over by the floor-to-ceiling windows. The black curtains pulled tight to block out the sun. Bones prefers darkness in every aspect of his life.
“I need a million dollars,” he announces.
The room falls silent. My eyes go to Bones, and he’s running his hand down his freshly shaven face. Grave pops a bubble with his gum, and Cross is flipping his Zippo.
“Done.” Bones nods. “I’ll have it for you in three hours.”
Mr. York’s green eyes widen for a brief second, and then he makes sure to look at each of us when he speaks. “Don’t you want to know why?” he asks, sounding surprised.
“No,” I answer.
“The why doesn’t matter to us. What is important is that you pay it back,” Bones explains.
Nick nods. “Of course. I …” He clears his throat. “Just tell me when.” He decides against what he was about to say.
“Three months,” I say.
He stands from the chair and buttons up his twenty-thousand-dollar suit jacket. “I won’t even need that long.”
We never did find out why he wanted it or what he did in order to pay us back.
“It seems fishy,” I agree. “But at least something good is going to come from Nick’s death.”
“Which is?” Cross asks.
I smile, looking over at him. “I made a phone call and was informed that George is back in town for his business partner’s funeral.”
“Meaning?” Grave asks, throwing back more of his energy drink.
“Meaning, we’re going to collect our money,” I answer as Bones glares at him.
EMILEE
I haven’t slept in days. As soon as George called me, I threw some of my tubs that were packed with my clothes into my car and headed straight for Las Vegas. A twenty-four-hour drive took me thirty-five. I drove as fast as I could. I never stayed at a hotel, but I did pull over for a few hours of sleep here and there. I survived on energy drinks and fast food. They were cremating my father per his wishes, and it gave me some time to get back home. I wanted to fly to get here faster, but I needed my car here. I knew once I arrived, I wouldn’t be going back for a while. If ever.
Slamming my car into park, I enter my father’s house and run up the winding staircase, two at a time. Once I reach the second floor, I run down the hall to the master suite, then I shove the door open without even knocking. My mother lies in the king-size bed with her head resting on the upholstered white headboard and the red silk sheets pulled up to her neck. Her nurse stands to her right, helping her sip from a Styrofoam cup.
“When the hell were you going to tell me that you got a divorce?” I snap, trying to catch my breath.
She doesn’t even seem surprised that I know. I think she’s too tired at this point. Or she just doesn’t care. I’m not sure which one I’d rather it be.
“Emilee …” She softly says my name.
“Don’t do that.” I shake my head. “Don’t talk to me like I’m five, Mother. You got a divorce.” I growl. “A divorce? Why …? What?” I reach up and start yanking on the bobby pins and ponytail holder that kept the bun in place. “Fuck!” I hiss, scratching my head roughly.
“Will you give us a second?” she asks her nurse in a soft voice.
I begin to pace the large room. My eyes scan over the white carpet. My mother has always been a clean freak, but to be honest, she always paid someone to do it for her. My father gave her the ability to hire help, to allow her to be a stay-at-home mother who never had to worry how the mortgage was going to be paid or where her next meal would come from. I think she took that for granted.
Once she exits, my mother begins. “It’s complicated—”
“No. It’s not,” I interrupt her. “You. Got. A. Divorce. Who wanted it? You or Daddy?” My chest is heaving with every wild breath I take. The news of their divorce is hitting me hard. I understand that not every marriage works out. I’m not stupid. I know how love works. People change over the years and grow apart. It’s the fact that she never told me. I talked to her all the time. She had thousands of chances to come clean, and she chose not to.
She lets out a long sigh and pats the large space next to her. I cross my arms over my chest, refusing to move. I love my mother, but I’m not going to give her a pass because of her condition. She’s been lying to me. Daddy had been lying to me. What else don’t I know?
“Who?” I demand.
“It was mutual.”
“Bullshit!” I snap.
“Emilee …”
I throw my hands up. “Fuck this.” And turn to leave. As my hand turns the doorknob, she speaks.
“I wanted it.”
I keep my back to her, and my chest tightens. I knew it. I didn’t want to believe it. My mother once told me “someone always loves the other more,” and my father loved her more.
“I wasn’t happy. And neither was he. Even though he wouldn’t admit it.” A silence fills the room. “It had been a long time coming.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I ask roughly. “Why didn’t Daddy tell me?”
“He wanted to.” She coughs. “But I talked him into waiting.”
I turn to face her, and tears fill my eyes. “So even after you left him and broke his heart, you still managed to control him?” I shake my head with disgust.
She closes her heavy eyes and runs her hands down over the sheets. “I was ashamed—”
“You should be!” I interrupt her, hearing the bedroom door open behind me. I turn to leave her but come to a stop when I see who has entered. “What in the fuck are you doing here?” I demand.
“Emilee.” My mother sighs. “Please quit using such harsh language.”
I watch with confusion and horror as George undoes his tie and walks past me. He goes over to the side of the bed and bends down to kiss my mother’s forehead.
“Stay the fuck away from her!” I shout.
“You didn’t tell her?” he asks my mother.
She waves off his concern. “She’s been through enough for one day.”
My eyes dart down to where he’s grabbed her hand. His dark eyes lock on mine as he bends down and kisses her fingers. My blood begins to boil just as I close my fists.
“What happened to you?” my mother asks him. “You smell like alcohol.”
He smirks at me. I want to go over there and knock the bitch out, but I can’t move. My legs are cemented to the floor. Is this what shock feels like?
“Just an accident.” He winks at me. “It won’t happen again.”
“You can’t be serious?” I manage to choke out. “Mom?” I look at her. The blood rushes in my ears, and I’m trying to catch my breath. “Is this …?”
“I’m tired, dear,” she says, closing her eyes.
“Mom …”
“She said she’s tired,” he growls at me. “Come back tomorrow. She needs her rest.” He pulls the covers up and tucks her in. “What can I get you, darling?” he asks her.
Come back tomorrow? I live here. This is my home too. “Mom.” I lick my lips. “You can’t be serious. He …”
“She’s had enough for one day,” he snaps. “Get out or I will …”
“What?” I shout. “Have me thrown out of my own house?”
“Please don’t fight,” my mother whispers. “Not now. It’s been a long day.”
“Long day?” I gasp at her words. “You didn’t even come to Dad’s memorial.” Since he was cremated, we just had a service at the funeral home. It was small and quick. It was all wrong. He deserved so much more than what George’s cheap ass paid for.
She closes her eyes as if pained by my statement. “I’m …”
“Don’t apologize, sweetheart.” He leans down and kisses her forehead. Then he rises to his feet and comes over to me. I want to turn, but my feet still won’t move. He comes up to me, grabs my upper arm, and yanks me out of the room, softly closing the door behind us.
“You son of a …”
He slaps a hand over my mouth and shoves my back into the wall. I glare up at him as he hovers over me. “I told you that I control everything. It would be in your best interest to shut your mouth.”
I shove him off, and he steps back. “I don’t know what you plan on doing, but it’s not going to happen,” I promise him.
He stares at me. I glare at him. It’s a standoff. But we both know that he has me at a disadvantage. I need to do something. My mother may have left my father, but he had something to do with it.
Without another word, I run down the stairs and out the front door and fall into the driver’s seat of my car and pull out my cell. I call the one person I want to see right now. The one person who will understand that I don’t want to discuss my feelings.
“Emilee? Hey, girl? Are you okay?” The words rush out.
It’s been so long since I’ve reached out to talk to her. My bottom lip begins to tremble, and I run a hand through my tangled hair. “No.”
“Where are you?”
I begin to rock back and forth. “I’m sitting in my car outside of my parents’ house.”
“You’re in Vegas?” she asks surprised.
I nod to myself. “Yeah. And I need a drink.” My eyes look at the clock on my dash, and it’s not even noon yet. I think the day I’ve had warrants some day drinking.
“Okay. Where do you want me to meet you at?”
That’s why I called her. Jasmine doesn’t ask very many questions, if any. She’s a ride or die chick. And that’s exactly what I need right now.
_______________
It’s after midnight when I stumble back into my parents’ house. I’ve been out all day with Jasmine, and I’ve drunk more than my weight in alcohol. My vision is blurry, and my mind foggy, lips numb. I’ll regret this tomorrow.
She never once asked me a single question. Jasmine can talk the legs off something, and I was thankful for that today. Every conversation we had was about her. Every toast we did was to our past. The future never even thought of. Jasmine is the live in the now kind of girl.
I shut the door quietly and then begin to tiptoe the best I can up the stairs. Halfway to the first floor, I have to stop and remove my heels. I don’t want to lose my footing and go tumbling down. I crack the door open to my mom’s room and look inside.
She’s passed out on her back. Her hands folded over her chest. She looks dead, and if I wasn’t so wasted, my chest would hurt. I look at the cot that lies next to her bed, and it’s empty.
That’s odd. Her nurse stays overnight in her room with her. That’s one of the stipulations her doctor gave her by getting to come home—twenty-four-hour care.
I close her door and head toward my room.
“Emilee?”
I come to a halt when I hear my name being called out behind me. It’s him. Is he living here? Spinning around, I trip and fall into the wall.
“Are you fucking drunk?” he demands at the end of the hall. His hands are propped on his hips as though he’s my father about to ground me because I came home intoxicated and after curfew.
“That’s none of your business,” I slur.
“Office. Now.” With that, he turns and walks down the stairs to the first floor.
Rolling my eyes, I push off the wall and grip the banister to make my way back downstairs. Who knows what the bastard wants to talk about? Entering my father’s office, he stands behind the desk.
“Sit,” he orders like I’m a fucking dog.
I hate doing as he asks, but my feet hurt, and my legs are tired. I fall into the chair like a brick sinks to the bottom of the ocean. “What?” I blow some loose strands from my face.
He stands there, his hands still on his hips. He’s dressed in a black button-down and black slacks. He looks like he just came home from the office—my father’s office.
“There’s something I need you to watch.”
“Make it quick.” I yawn, feeling my eyes grow heavy. Shit, I drank way too much.
He picks up a remote and turns the monitor on that hangs on the wall. This room fills the screen. It had to have been from earlier because the curtains are pulled back, revealing the sunny afternoon.
My mother’s nurse enters; George sits at the desk.
“You wanted to see me, Mr. Wilton?” she asks, placing her hands behind her back.
“Yes, have a seat, Liv.” He gestures to the chair that I’m now sitting in.
She does so and crosses her legs over one another. Liv has to be in her early fifties. Light brown hair that match her eyes. She wears very little makeup and blue scrubs.
“I’m going to have to let you go,” he tells her.
“Excuse me?” She sits up straighter.
“I am unable to afford your rates,” he says simply.
“You can’t do that,” I whisper, but he ignores me.
“But Nancy needs around-the-clock care,” she argues.
He stands from his seat. “This is not up for discussion, Olivia. This is me announcing your termination.” He flips off the monitor.
My heavy eyes look up at him. He has a look of satisfaction on his smug face.
“You son of a bitch.” I manage to get out without slurring.
He smirks, placing his hands in the pockets of his slacks. “I told you; I control everything.”
“Hire her back,” I order, managing to stand to my feet. I still hold my heels in my right hand.
He tilts his head to the side. “Now all of a sudden you care about her.”
“Fuck you …”
“Because if I remember correctly, earlier you yelled at her and then stormed out of this house.”
“You can’t do this!” I shout, feeling my shaking legs threaten to buckle under me.
Stepping around the desk, he comes up to me. He reaches out to cup my cheek, but I slap it away. “You’re right, you know. She does need her nurses.”
She has two who take turns coming to the house to care for her. She can barely get out of bed, let alone take care of herself. I can’t do it. I have to make money to try to get us away from this sorry son of a bitch.
“Then hire them back,” I demand, guessing he fired them both.
“That can be arranged. If …” He trails off, and I know where this is going. He’s making a point that he owns us.
“If what?” I ask, swallowing. I can still taste the vodka in my mouth. Funny, I thought I had too many shots, but now I feel like I didn’t have enough.
He sighs heavily. “See, I don’t care if you go out and party with your friends, but you realize that I have the control here, Emilee.” He steps into me. “You will acknowledge that what I say goes.”
“What do you want?” I ask, already knowing the answer. He made it very clear earlier this morning in my father’s office, but I have to ask. Maybe he’s changed his mind and wants something else.
“You.” He reaches out and runs his knuckles down my cheek.
Vomit fills my mouth, but I swallow it down.
He leans in, whispering in my ear, “Remove that dress and your underwear, then bend over the desk, and Liv will be back here first thing in the morning.”
I fist my hands as tears sting my eyes. I don’t have a choice. I’m fucked. Literally. We both know it. If my mom dies because she didn’t have a nurse here, it will be my fault. And I refuse to have her death on my hands. He may win this round, but I will win the war.
I pull away from him, and his hands fall to his side.
Dropping my heels to the floor, I grip the hem of my dress and pull it up and over my head.
“Beautiful.” He reaches out and touches my stomach.
I jump back. “I can’t …”
“Shh.” He reaches out and yanks me to him. He places his free hand over my mouth, silencing me. “I told you that you were going to willingly spread those legs for me, Emilee. And I always get what I want.”
My eyes are heavy and my mind foggy from all the alcohol I’ve consumed. But I’m still very aware of what is about to happen and how right he is.
