“I was going to tell Mother to take the house too, but I think it would be far more fun for you to struggle to save it, fail, and watch as the bank forecloses on it—or you’re forced to sell. Anyhow, I need some new clothes for the funeral. See you this weekend…don’t you wish you’d gone with a pine box and wild flowers?”
I drop onto the sofa and stare at the ceiling, daring the roof to collapse on me. Why not? The rest of the world already had. Steve and Coop sit on either side of me. They heard the entire exchange and they’re both seething.
“I’ll cover the funeral,” Coop offers after the silence lingers too long.
“You can’t.” I glance up at my dad’s oldest friend as he sips his coffee and frowns at us. “Jamie, your father had a plan. We just thought we had more time to make it happen. We can still make most of it work, starting with you signing the house over to me. It keeps it over your head and there’s no way I’m selling to your sister or your mother. We’ll figure the rest out. We just need to be careful of how it’s all handled from here on out.”
“Why…why didn’t he change his will? Why didn’t he tell me?”
“This is hard to hear. Hell, he never wanted you to find out, but it’s time you do. The only way he could save you was to give her everything. She owns him, but she wasn’t allowed to touch you or any part of the contract that had to do with you. He protected you from your mother, but it never occurred to your dad that your sister would come after you.”
* * *
—NOW—
“James, what a coincidence to see you here.” Elle glides over to us, she offers a glass of champagne to me like it’s just the two of us in the room. “I wasn’t aware you owned clothes that weren’t covered in paint and fit for the homeless. Did you steal them? Borrow them from a friend who took pity on your poor soul?”
My mouth is dry, but I’m not taking a damn thing from her, not even a glass. If I did, I’d throw champagne in her face and smash the glass against the wall. My mind is running, trying to get ahead of whatever she’s doing here. I’m going to lose this race. I always do. She’s smart, conniving, manipulative; she’s probably a psychopath. I’m here because shewantsme here. This is all some wicked plan she’s set in motion, and I won’t have a clue what to expect until it’s too late.
“Chase, why don’t you scurry along? I’m sure you’ll trip and fall dick first into someone as soon as you turn around. I guess it’s better than the alternative. How did you get the blood out of the grout?”
Coop stares at her with a snarl.
“She was too homely for you anyhow. Wasn’t that what the press called her? Homely? Tell me, is Steven here, too? I miss having all my playthings in one house.”
Coop takes a step closer to me and I can see the vein in his neck pumping as his jaw clenches. He would risk his entire career for me if it meant tearing her down from her pedestal.
“Not here, Chase.”
She chuckles, and it sounds like poison. Her eyes flick next to me and she sizes up Lexi. I pull her between Coop and me, almost daring Elle to try something. “Oh, you must be Alexis. The latest pair of legs to spread for my idiot brother. Tell me, do you charge by the hour or by the pound?”
“Shut the hell up, Elle.”
“Careful, James. You’re a guest in my fiancé’s house.”
“Your what?”
“Fiancé, James. It’s a French word that you wouldn’t understand.” Her claw-like nails tap against her champagne flute and I’m sure she’s picturing gauging my eyes out with them. “Oh wait, maybe you would. You had one once, didn’t you? How is Natalie these days?”
“Don’t, Elle.”
“That little boy of hers has some very pretty eyes. Blue-grey, like yours. I’m curious. Are they both yours, or is it only the one bastard you put inside her behind her hardworking husband’s back?”
“Oh, fuck you, Elle.”
“That’s rude, disgusting, and illegal. We’re related.” She drains the flute and sets it on a tray of a waiter passing by. “If you’re going to continue to be crass, I might send Natalie’s new hubby that paternity test you took.”
“I never took—” My face drops and my stomach follows. “Leave Natalie and her family out of whatever the hell this is.”
She eyes Lexi again and hums as she steps toward her. “She looks like healthy breeding stock with those hips. I bet you’re adaddy’s girl, aren’t you? I’ve seen your Daddy. Maybe when I’m done with this one, I’ll find Jesus.”
“What the hell do you want?” I snap.
“Me? Oh, how could I possibly want anything from you? I’m rich, I’m about to marry into even more money, and you’re a penniless pauper who won’t do what he’s told.” She turns her wrists, examining her nails. “Sign your name and then curl up in a ditch and cry.”
“He’s not signing a fucking thing,” Coop growls.
“Fine by me. The longer it takes, the more it hurts poor little Jamie in the end.” She bats her eyes and uses a baby voice, “Will widdle Jaime stop talking again? Curl in his widdle shell and die?”
