In the course of one day, the axis of my world had shifted. It was just a few days before Christmas, and I had just become one of the youngest billionaires in America.
Merry Christmas to me.
It didn’t matter. Couldn’t have cared less. I didn’t want to process it. I just kept thinking about the mess we’d made of everything, and the way it had played out. And about how my grandfather had shown me who he really was just before he died.
“Davis, we’ll need to take a few days and figure out the transition,” Gregory said as we sat in the living room of the beach house. We came back to the property after the Creighton and Sons Funeral home retrieved Grandad’s body from the hospital.
It was late. I was tired. Exhausted so much that my boned ached.
“I know he had a plan set up,” I replied, my head still swimming in the shock of what had happened. “He showed it to me once.”
“He went over it with me too.” Gregory took a long sip of his straight bourbon cocktail. He’d fixed us both strong ones from the butler’s pantry and adjoining wet bar. “It’s not complicated, but we’ll want to include the rest of the board as we turn the main assets over to you.”
“Certainly,” I said, but I was barely listening to him anymore. “And I have some ideas for ways we can improve our holdings.” What the hell? I don’t give a fuck right now about that.
Gregory gave me a weak smile. “I expected as much.” He placed his elbows on his knees. “Listen, I know after what happened at the beach house, you don’t trust me. And why should you?”
I stared at him. No, I don’t trust you at all.
“I want you to know that anything I did, anything I participated in, was only for the good of what you have. It was with the best intentions.”
“Was it?” I got up from the sofa and wandered over to the bar where I fixed myself another drink. “I was thinking I should fire you.”
“Please, don’t.”
“I’m not convinced, but I am curious,” I called over my shoulder as I poured a large helping my grandfather’s favorite bourbon. “How much did you know about what was going to take place in the beach house? About Samantha?”
“Not much,” he said in a voice that carried across the room. “He didn’t tell me anything. He wanted me there as a witness.”
“Interesting.”
Carrying my full glass, I walked back into the living room. I sat on the sofa again. My head was reeling, not knowing which catastrophe to address first. I wouldn’t lose Samantha though. Especially since I knew the truth of what happened ten years ago. I was no longer surprised at Sam’s initial reception toward me that night at Ainsley’s wedding. Her mom had been blackmailed. Silenced. Fuck, why did she even give me a chance? And then she’d felt I’d betrayed her with the account I’d set up to help her. Had Aaron known as well? Fuck. I got why she was refusing my calls and had not replied to my messages. I loved her, and what had been done was reprehensible.
I would fix that.
When I didn’t answer Gregory, he cleared his throat and said, “Have you decided what you’re going to say when the news breaks?”
“No.” I put my head in my hands. The bourbon hadn’t kept a headache away, and my temples throbbed. “I can’t think about that right now.”
“Of course. I’m sorry to bring it up. I’m just so used to the business side of things with your family. It’s simpler than letting my emotions get in the way.” He cleared his throat. “Your grandfather was a good man.”
I raised my head and blinked at him. “Yes, I guess he was.”
What a joke. What a boldfaced lie. My grandfather was the very opposite of that, and I knew it. Not that I would have offered any other response to Gregory’s words. One rule about the dead—once someone departed this earth, you didn’t admit what they really were. Didn’t speak badly about. Even if you realized you never knew them at all.
“I suppose you’ll give the eulogy at the funeral,” he said.
“I suppose so.”
What would I say? What would I bring up? I had no idea. I only knew one thing.
I wanted to talk to Samantha.
Immediately. Before I did anything else—before I made any other moves. Talking to her would ground me. Keep me sane. Make sure I didn’t do anything stupid.
“Give me a minute,” I told Gregory. I yanked my phone from my trouser pocket. It had a new message waiting for me from Sam, and I’d almost missed it since my phone was on silent. Yes. She replied. I opened the app.
Lose my number. Don’t contact me again.
“Fuck,” I said under my breath.
“Fuck what?” Gregory asked.
I looked up from the phone. “It’s an emergency. I need to take care of something. Right now.”
After I deleted his number, Davis texted me four times and called three. Twice, he left a voice message. I saw all the messages. I listened to him grow frantic with each heartbreaking plea that he left.
But I didn’t answer any of them.
I’d said my piece. I’d made it clear. From now on, I’d be staying far away from Davis Armstrong and his family’s empire. They had burned us twice. I wouldn’t let it happen again.
So instead, I turned off my phone the following morning.
I threw it in the bottom of my purse, burying it beneath my wallet, makeup bag, sunglass case, and a few stray bills. Making it disappear seemed like the best solution. I’d only use the phone when I needed it, and that didn’t happen often anyway. Then I focused on getting dressed. I had a shift at Royal Palm to get to. And Mom was improving. Slowly. If the hospital needed to contact me about her, they had the Royal Palm phone number in our list of emergency contact numbers. I could unplug for a moment. I certainly needed it.
And, it felt good to get my priorities in order. On the drive to work, I repeated to myself the truths that made it clear a relationship with Davis would never work. His family had spent a lifetime dominating mine. They had secrets they didn’t want to acknowledge, not the least of which involved my mother. Davis Armstrong Jr. had been a terrible man, but no one would have expected him to put me ahead of risking a billion-dollar inheritance by angering his grandfather.
I wasn’t worth that much.
My shift passed slower than any I’d ever worked. The night crawled by as slow as a baby turtle on the sand, and I almost fell asleep three times. It was so bad that I welcomed a visit at the desk from Howell McDougal around ten fifty, when he stumbled into the lobby after having cocktails at PB Catch, a fancy seafood and steak restaurant in Palm Beach I’d often heard about.
“You seem sad,” he said, the thick smell of rum punctuating every word he spoke.
“I’m fine.” I tossed him a fake smile. “Perfectly fine.”
“I doubt that, but you’re the best desk assistant in the building,” Howell replied, slurring his words just a touch. “People ought to tell you that more.”
“Thank you. You’re too nice.”
He frowned and took his phone out of his trouser pocket. “Excuse me.” He unlocked his phone and stared at the screen. When he looked up again, his eyes were wide and serious. Sober. “Oh, hell. Unbelievable. Davis Armstrong is dead.”
“What?” My breath caught in my throat and all the blood rushed to my face as I jumped up from my place at the front desk. “Davis Armstrong? He’s dead?”
Still focused on his phone, Howell held up a hand. “It’s the older one. Senior. Davis Armstrong Senior is dead.” He looked at me. “The news alert says he died of a massive stroke earlier today.”
A small pulse of relief moved through me. “He was old.” I shifted my gaze from his. “I mean, that’s what I heard. That he was, um…I think he was maybe in his eighties.”
“That’s what it says in the article. Almost ninety.” Howell let out a low whistle. “He was one of the most successful men on the island, considering he built Armstrong International. He started in the mailroom of Seven Hills Steel, bought it outright in his thirties, and expanded from there. I had no idea he was self-made.”
“Me neither.”
It was a good enough answer, but my mind had already floated a thousand miles away. I was thinking about all the moments I’d had with Davis, and last time I saw his grandfather. Senior had been so angry. Firm. Dismissive of me.
Now, Davis Armstrong III was one of the youngest billionaires in the world. And just hours ago, he’d tried to offer me his heart.
“Anyway”—Howell rapped the lip of the reception desk, and my attention snapped back to him—“it says they’ll have more about it on the eleven o’clock news. I’m going to head up to my apartment.”
“Of course,” I said, another hollow response to the news. The shock of his death was so strong I wavered between throwing up and bursting into tears. I didn’t know what to think. Was I sad for Davis? Upset for my mom? Confused about what would happen next? I couldn’t place any of my feelings.
“Um…good…goodnight, Mr. McDougal.”
“Goodnight, sweetheart.”
He shuffled across the lobby and up the wide staircase, gripping the wrought-iron railing as he went. When I was alone again, I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. Energy and adrenaline pulsed through me. I took a quick glance around the large, empty room.
And then I broke down.
With a sob, I fished my iPhone from the bottom of my purse and turned it on for the first time in half a day. I was beyond caring about the rules I’d set for myself—rules were meant to be broken anyway. All I could think about was Davis. His father was dead, and now his grandfather too. He was alone, and right before Christmas.
I wanted to talk to him. Figure out what was going to happen next. Even though he’d caused my heart to break today, he might need a friend.
And when I opened the app, I found a message from him.
I didn’t set up a fraudulent account. Please forgive me. I can’t do life without you.
A few other messages from him waited for me. I didn’t bother to read them—those words didn’t matter anymore. All that mattered was what I’d say to him now, considering the loss he’d just experienced.
Me: I’m sorry I haven’t replied to you. I was shocked and upset. I just heard what happened to your grandfather, and I’m so sorry. He was important in your life, and I know this is a huge loss. I’m so sorry. Let me know if there is anything I can do.
I gulped a lungful of air and hit send. It was a shot in the air, a virtual flare signal I hoped he’d respond to. Perhaps we did have a chance, and this was it.
I don’t want to do life without you either, Davis.
After a few minutes with no answer, I put down the phone and sank into the creaky chair behind the desk. Maybe he wasn’t going to reply. Maybe he didn’t want to hear from me—I really couldn’t blame him for that.
I twisted toward the computer and opened the browser that showed me the various security cameras around the building. I needed to get back to work, needed to refocus on the tasks required of me at Royal Palm. The residents counted on me for security, and I needed to provide it.
Deep breaths, Sam. Deep breaths.
I clicked though the footage of the last few minutes, looking to see if the video had caught anything suspicious while I hadn’t been paying attention. Luckily, it had not. I breathed a few easy sighs.
The phone buzzed on the desk beside me. I grabbed it and turned it over.
Davis: Please come over when you can tonight. I don’t know if you are working or not. I don’t care what time it is. Just come to the house. I must talk to you, Sam. We need to talk tonight.
I must have read the message five times before I typed out the reply.
Me: Of course, whatever you want. I’ll be there. I get off work at midnight. See you then.