Chapter 34

34

Edward

"Why are you not with your wife?" Arthur frowns.

"Because I didn’t want to miss poker night." I focus on my cards, while well aware of the suspicion in his eyes.

I’m not doing a good job of playing the newly-married husband desperately in love with his bride. In fact, I’m screwing up my role so badly, even my grandfather believes something is wrong.

"For a man enjoying post marital bliss, you seem strung tightly," Knox drawls.

Asswipe is trying to get another response from me, and this time, I will not give in to him.

I accompanied Belle to the door of the townhouse, made sure she was in safely, then instructed my housekeeper to cook dinner for her. I had no interest in the poker game, but I did want to see my grandfather face-to-face. He still hasn’t confirmed me as CEO, even though I'm in charge of all the key decisions of the company. I'm not going to bring it up with him, of course. I'm more strategic than that.

It’s why I asked Sinclair to invite Arthur and Knox for his weekly poker night. Our mutual friends who’d normally attend are out of town. It's the perfect opportunity to get facetime with the old man, without asking for a meeting. As for inviting Knox? It's a chance to demonstrate I don't hold a grudge.

I hoped to get a reading on my grandfather. But from what I’m seeing, he’s not very happy with me.

"I’m taking my wife on our honeymoon over Christmas," I declare.

"You are?" Arthur looks up from his cards.

"I have a property in Cornwall. Very picturesque and isolated…and romantic. The perfect way to spend Christmas."

Arthur’s features relax. "That sounds like the ideal getaway."

"It is."

"I’m pleased you’re taking your duties as a husband seriously. If the wife’s happy, everything else in your life will fall in order." He nods.

I incline my head to show I agree with him.

"I assume you’ll do this properly and not work while you’re away?" Knox murmurs in a casual tone. Which doesn’t fool me at all. Motherfucker will try any which way to take control of the company.

"Oh, I’ll make sure I’m connected to the internet while I’m gone. Remote working and?—"

"Absolutely not. You need to focus on your wife and your marriage completely while you’re gone. It’s very important you make it your priority."

"Oh, I can still attend meetings. The takeover we spoke about in conjunction with the 7A company?—"

"Will be taken care of," Arthur declares.

I glance at Sinclair, but his expression indicates he has no idea what Arthur is talking about.

"The takeover is in a delicate phase." Sinclair looks up from his cards. "We’ll probably sign the deal during the last week of December, and as the main signatory, it makes sense for Edward to be on the calls and?—"

"—it’s not right to disturb the man, no matter how important he is, on his honeymoon."

"But he's the key decision maker," Sinclair points out.

"Which is why I’m bringing in someone else with signing powers."

I stiffen. There it is, then. The old man never did intend to hand over the running of the company to me. He may have made me CEO, but he was never going to let me have veto power.

Knox throws down his cards. "Now, that’s what I'm talkin' about." He leans back in his seat. "You’ve made the right choice, Gramps. I won’t let you down."

"Of course, not." Arthur’s eyes gleam. He’s hiding something, all right. He reaches over and scratches Tiny behind his ears. The Great Dane yawns. He welcomed me like an old friend when I walked in today, then abandoned me to take Arthur’s side. There’s a bond between the two of them which Arthur clearly relishes. When Tiny decided to stay with Arthur, I was worried about the mutt being shuttled around between homes, but I’m realizing Tiny has a mind of his own. He decides who’s going to be his dog parent, and right now, he’s adopted my grandfather as the adult in his life. He’s softening up the old coot too, going by how Arthur smiles at the group.

Come to think of it, he’s not the only one thawing. First, Tiny; then, Belle. Between the two of them, my life has been turned upside down.

Footsteps sound, then a man walks into the room. He’s tall—as tall as me, six feet three inches, at least—broad shouldered, muscled in a way that hints at time spent doing physical work, and not just the gym kind. This man spends time working with his hands. He’s wearing a black suit, which stretches over his physique and indicates its tailor made for his dimensions. His dark hair is peppered with grey at the temples.

I take in all of this, but what holds my attention are his features. They are so familiar. So like Knox’s and like my grandfather’s. He’s… Nope, can’t be.

"Arthur." The new guy nods in my grandad’s direction.

"You don’t mind, I invited Nathan here to join your poker night, Sterling?" Arthur phrases it as a question to Sinclair, but his tone makes it clear, he isn’t asking for permission so much as informing.

If Sin is surprised, he hides it well.

"Of course." Sinclair rises to his feet, pulls up a chair, and slides it into the space between him and me.

"Thank you." Nathan slides into the seat, then jerks his chin at Knox, who’s been glowering at him from across the table.

"You must be Knox," Nathan murmurs.

"The fuck are you?"

"I’m your oldest half-brother."

"What the fuck?" Knox throws his cards down on the table. "Is this a joke, Arthur?" He turns to our grandfather. "Because if it is?—"

I scan Nathan’s features and see the truth in his eyes. "It’s not a joke, Knox."

"I want to hear it from Arthur," Knox says without taking his gaze off of our grandfather.

Arthur pets Tiny one more time, then turns to face Knox. "This is Nathan Davenport, my oldest grandson.”

“I thought he was your oldest grandson.” Knox jerks his chin in my direction.

“So did I.” Arthur looks at me with an apologetic expression. “I found out about him at the same time as Edward. I reached out to Nathan and Edward at the same time, but Nathan never replied.”

“I was traveling.” Nathan shrugs.

“And now, you’re conveniently here, in time to claim a part of the family fortune?” Knox growls.

“I’m independently wealthy.” Nathan’s lips twist, “I’m here because?—”

“I asked him to come,” Arthur interjects. “Turns out, before your father met Edward’s mother, he had a son with his childhood sweetheart. She was sixteen when Nathan was born. Your father refused to step up to his responsibilities.”

“What a surprise.” Knox snorts.

“Greta paid off Nathan’s mother, so she could leave with him and bring him up far away from us.”

Nathan’s jaw tics, but he doesn’t comment.

“Apparently, your father knew if he came clean to me, I’d disinherit him. Greta didn’t want that for him either. The two kept this a secret, but Greta wanted me to do right by Nathan.”

“How did you find him?”

“His mother didn’t keep her promise. She couldn’t help but name your father on his birth-certificate.” Arthur glances around the table. “Nathan grew up with the Davenport surname.”

“A name I never wanted to be associated with. A name I should have gotten rid of the first chance I had,” he says in a matter-of-fact voice.

“But you didn’t.” Arthur turns to him. “Family ties, dear grandson, can’t be broken that easily.”

“You trying to convince yourself or me?” Nathan drawls.

“You’re here, aren’t you?” Arthur puffs on his cigar.

“Grandma sure kept a lot of secrets from you.” Knox lowers his chin to his chest.

Arthur’s shoulders tense, then he seems to get a hold of himself. “And she wanted to make amends for it.

“By asking you to split the family fortune amongst those who don’t deserve it?”

“You will apologize to your brother,” Arthur booms.

“That’s half-brother, and I will not,” Knox shoots back.

Arthur sighs. “When you reach my age, you’ll realize, family is all that matters.”

“Good thing I’m not your age yet,” Knox sneers.

Nathan looks like he’s about to say something, then firms his lips.

“Any other long-lost relations we need to know about?” Knox tips up his chin in Arthur’s direction, “Any other ‘grandsons’"—he makes air-quotes—"lurking in the background with whom we’ll need to split control of the company?"

“No grandsons,” Arthur murmurs.

“But there are others ?” I ask.

“My oldest son is Edward’s adoptive father. And you’re aware of my middle son, your biological father." He directs this statement at me and Knox before looking around the table. " The one you haven’t met is my youngest,” he murmurs.

“I knew it.” Knox slaps his hand on the table with such force, the cards jump.

Arthur purses his lips. “We, uh…had a falling out, which caused him to leave home. It also resulted in me wiping all traces of him from my home, which is why you didn’t know of his existence. I’m sorry to say, I hurt your grandmother deeply with that.” The old man swallows.

“You’re hurting us with these revelations,” Knox points out.

“I promised Greta, on her deathbed, I’d reunite my family.” He sets his jaw.

“More like, you’re setting us up for a fight with all these new entrants,” Knox mutters under his breath.

“And where is this long-lost uncle?” I ask slowly.

“I haven’t been able to track him down. Maybe, he wants to stay hidden.” Arthur pats Tiny’s giant head.

“Maybe he should stay hidden.” A nerve throbs at Knox’s temple. “You expect us to accommodate yet another relation—no offense, Edward?—”

“None taken.” I shrug.

“— and slice up the family fortune because you’ve decided to make up for your sins in your old age?”

There’s silence, then Arthur blows out a breath. “I understand how difficult all of this must be for you, especially when you were groomed to be my heir-apparent. Your father was a loser. The only good thing he did was sire you boys. I thought long and hard before bringing in first, Edward and now, Nathan, but it’s for your own good, Knox.”

Knox snorts.

“You’re not made to be the CEO. Yet,” Arthur declares.

Knox’s jaw tics. “Don’t hold back, Gramps,” he growls.

Arthur holds up his hands. “I know, you’re upset. But I promise you, when you look back, you’ll understand it was for your own good.”

“That’s what they always say,” Knox says in a bitter voice.

“You’ll still be on the board of directors and lead on one of the smaller companies?—”

“I just won't be CEO,” Knox snaps.

“You’ll never lack for money,” Arthur points out.

“I just won't have the power.” The tendons of Knox’s throat bunch.

“I’ve given you a foothold in the company. When you prove yourself, you can climb the ladder like everyone else. There’s nothing keeping you from staking a claim to be the CEO.”

Knox stares at him steadily, “And he has the experience I lack? That’s what you’re trying to say, aren’t you?”

Arthur lowers his chin to his chest. When he speaks, it’s in a matter-of-fact tone, “Edward’s had a few knocks in life, enough to make him worldly-wise. Nathan joined the navy and has been posted all over the world. He has experience making decisions involving the lives of people.”

"Navy, huh?" Knox glares at the new guy.

Nathan tilts his head.

Arthur looks between us. "I realized it wasn’t fair that I put the entire burden of leading the company on Edward, given he’s just gotten married."

Motherfucker. The old man asked me to marry in order to ensure my inheritance. Now, he’s using it as an excuse to hold it back from me, as well. I thought he was canny…but he’s positively Machiavellian.

Arthur’s features are all innocent as he turns to Knox. "I don’t have much time left?—"

Knox makes a rude noise, which all of us ignore.

"—and when your grandmother died, she left me information on not only how to track down Edward, but also Nathan."

"And you didn’t think it important to mention it to me?" I ask mildly.

"It came as a surprise to me, too. I only found out a few days ago," Nathan offers.

Arthur pretends to be hurt. "I hope you boys are not going to gang up on me. I merely want what’s best for the family, and for the empire I have built from scratch."

No missing the emphasis on the 'I' there.

"It was your grandmother’s wish that I bring all her grandchildren together, and that they have a vested interest in working together to grow the business," Arthur continues.

"Decision-making by community never works," Knox warns.

"Oh, you don’t have to worry about that." Arthur lays his cards down on the table face-up—a Royal Flush, no less. "The veto power rests with both Edward and Nathan."

Knox draws in a sharp breath.

Sinclair raises his eyebrows.

Arthur looks very pleased with himself.

This…is unexpected. It’s not what I had in mind when I decided to make being the CEO of the Davenport empire my focus. This…changes things. Considerably. Anger squeezes my chest. A cold sensation percolates through my blood. I trusted Arthur—perhaps naively, I realize now. I hoped I would find in him the sense of family I hadn’t had with my own parents. I miscalculated. Once more, I’ve allowed my emotions to rule me, and it has come to bite me in the arse. Lesson well learnt.

"This is bullshit." Knox jumps up to his feet. "You are going senile, old man." He stabs a finger at Arthur. "And you"—he turns to Nathan—"can go to hell."

He pushes away from the table, grabs his jacket off the back of his chair, and stalks out.

We sit there in silence for several moments.

"Now that that’s out of the way,"—Sinclair grabs the bottle of whiskey—"who can I top up?"

"You’re pissed." Sinclair half carries, half drags me up the steps of my townhouse.

"What I am is pisshhed… Pissshhed… Pishhhhhed offfffff." My words are slurred; I can hear them as if from far away. This is not being drunk. This is…medicinal. Yep, that’s all it issssshhhh. Fuck, I’m slurring in my head now, too. I miss the next step, stumble and would fall face first if Sinclair doesn’t grab my shoulders and straighten me.

"Fucking hell, Priest, what’s wrong with you?"

"Whatssssh wrrrrong is that I trusssted that fucker."

"You mean Arthur?"

"Ar—fucking—thur… My fucking grandfather. I shhhhouldn’t be surprised; my parents didn’t give a fuck about me, eeeeither. And after the incident, if it hadn't been for B-B-Baron, I wouldn't've sssshurvived."

"Have you spoken to him at all?" His voice softens. "You guys were the best of friends and?—"

"I don’t need him in my life. In fact,—" I push away from him, stumble, but manage to find my footing. Why the fuck is the door swaying in front of my eyes? I put one foot in front of the other, reach the door, and am about to knock when it swings open. The most beautiful woman in the world, aka, my wife, stands there. She’s wearing a pair of yoga pants that cling to her thick thighs, and a tiny T-shirt that outlines her gorgeous breasts. Heat tugs on my lower-belly. My cock thickens. Not that drunk, then.

"Wife, you’re fucking gorgeous."

"And you’re pissed." She slaps her hands on her hips, and her top tightens further. Now, I can see those sweet nipples outlined against the fabric, too. I lean in, intent on taking a bite of those gorgeous double-D tits; only, I lose my balance and stagger. She throws her arms about me. I bend and take a long sniff of her hair. Apple Blossom. Any remaining blood drains to my cock. My head spins. I begin to topple over. She yelps, sways. My knees begin to give way, when a firm hand under my bicep pulls me to my feet again.

I shake my head to clear it, pull away from Sinclair, then brush past her and step inside. I’m dimly aware of Sinclair supporting me on one side. Then, she slides her arm about my waist from the other. I lean my weight on Sinclair and tuck her closer under my arm.

"Alright, let’s get you to your room." Sinclair urges me forward. One step at a time, one foot in front of the other. Why is everything so blurry?

I hear a voice singing from far away. Weird; it’s a familiar voice, but what-fucking-ever. There will no longer be any emotions in my life. That much is clear. Then, we’re climbing up the stairs, down the hallway, into my bedroom. The mattress floats up to meet me. I spin on a cloud of white and grey and blue and red. So much red. Anger, pain, suffering. I draw in a breath, and my lungs burn. It’s dark, so dark.

There’s a groan; someone else is there with me. I try to open my eyes, but realize I’m blindfolded. Try to move my arms, and realize my hands and legs are tied. I begin to struggle in earnest, trying to break the ropes that bind me, but they seem to tighten with my efforts. My muscles burn, my heart pounds in my chest. Sweat pours down my face. Pain screeches up my arms, and I realize the restraints are cutting into my wrists.

Let me go, I didn’t do anything wrong. Let me the hell go. Oh god, oh god, why am I here? Help me, Lord. If I get out of here, I’ll forever be grateful. I’ll make sure I don’t run away from school again. I’ll be a good boy, I promise. Please, God, please. Tears squeeze out from the corners of my eyes. Wetness drips onto my lips. Help, help me, please don’t punish me like this please.

"Edward."

I need to get out of here. I didn’t do anything wrong. I didn’t. Don’t punish me, I beg you.

"Ed, Eddie."

There's a rustling sound as the door creaks open, followed by footsteps. I try to move my arms and legs but realize I’m tied up. The space around me lightens, enough for me to make out another figure tied up not far from me. I blink until the person’s features come into focus. It’s Baron. Fuck. I strain at my restraints, but they don’t give. The footsteps come closer; I try to push away from it. Arms reach for me, and I strain away. "Don’t touch me. Don’t fucking touch me. Don’t."

"Eddie, it’s me!"

I snap my eyes open. Baby blues meet mine. Thick eyelashes, flushed cheeks, rosebud lips. I draw in a shuddering breath, and the scent of sweet apple blossoms coils deep in my chest.

"Ed,"—she swallows—"you were dreaming."

"And now, I’m not." In one swoop, I’ve flipped her on her back on the bed and slammed my palms on either side of her head.