Caden
“Violet wants us to go out with them tonight.”
I’m sitting in bed—we walked around earlier, getting some fresh air and picking up coffee—watching Rose as she gets dressed for work. Yes, work. She’s actually going into the Fleur offices for a mid-afternoon meeting after much wheedling and persuading on her sister’s part. I don’t know exactly what’s going on between the sisters and Fleur and the rest of the family, but I know it’s not good. It’s making Rose upset.
And I don’t like seeing my girl upset.
Not that she’s talking to me, confessing all of her problems, which I get. I totally get it. Really¸ she’s not my girl. I have no right to think of her that way—even though I do.
“Go out where?”
She adjusts the thin black belt that goes with the cream-colored sleeveless dress she’s wearing and turns to face me. “You’ll never guess.”
“The White Swan,” I say in perfect deadpan.
“You’re so smart.” She leans over me and drops a kiss on my waiting lips. “We don’t have to go if you don’t want to.”
“Who’s going to be there?” I ask warily, waiting for her answer.
“Violet, Ryder, and Nigel. Maybe another woman from work, but no Whitney,” she adds hurriedly.
Thank Christ. I haven’t talked to Whitney since I fled her flat and I know she’s pissed at me. I need to call her soon and make up to her, but not yet. She needs more time to get over it. “I like Nigel.”
She smiles. “So do I.”
“I think we should go.” I lean back against the padded headboard, bending my arms behind my head and interlocking my fingers against my neck. “It’s time for you to get back out into the real world, sweetheart.”
Rose rolls her eyes as she grabs a pair of earrings from the top of the dresser, slipping one pearl into her ear, then the other. They’re gorgeous pearls. Perfect luster, perfect color, and the perfect size, they’d get a fair amount on the black market. I know this because if they weren’t Rose’s earrings, they’d already be in my possession. Hell, I probably would’ve already cashed them in and wired the money into Mom’s bank account.
She’d notice, though. She wears them every single day and no way could I risk snagging them. The Poppy Necklace on the other hand … I have no idea where it is. And I’d like to find it.
But the minute I find it, I’m out. Headed back home to cash it in and then go see Mom in Miami.
Thinking of my mother reminds me that I need to call her. This afternoon would be good, since I’ll be alone for the first time since Rose and I got together. Or whatever we can call this … thing we’re doing.
“And what do you do in the real world anyway?” she asks, her voice casual though I know she’s fishing.
Finally. I wondered how long it would take for her to start asking questions.
“I do exactly what you see.” I grip my hands together tight, hating the lie that’s about to fall from my lips. “Travel around, see the world.” Well, part of that is true. I just left off the other part. I tried going to college, but it was too damn expensive and I couldn’t focus. Tried going straight and finding a real job, but that was an epic fail on all accounts. Got Mom the hell out of New York and moved her to Florida, somewhere I’ve thought about going more than once.
But I don’t. Maybe I should. It might be easier, going there. Then I’d have to explain to Mom what the hell I do for a living, but I’ve been lying to her for this long. I can keep it up.
I’m all she has. Stealing keeps her and me afloat. I don’t know how to do anything else.
I am a world-class fuckup.
“Must be tough,” she teases.
“Oh yeah.” I thunk the back of my head against the headboard, wishing it weren’t padded and soft. I need to knock some sense into my stupid brain. Not like I can come clean to Rose, but maybe I can turn my life around for her. I’ve tried before, but I could never stay clean. She could give me purpose, though. A real reason to be good—all for her. If she’d have me.
She won’t have you.
I tell the voice in my head to shut the fuck up.
Rose comes to a stop at the foot of the bed, her gaze wistful as she studies me. “You really shouldn’t sit like that.”
“Sit like what?” The woman straight up makes no sense sometimes. Like right now. I have no idea what she’s talking about.
Slowly she shakes her head as she approaches me. “With your arms behind your head. Your biceps are bulging and your shoulders and chest look exceptionally broad. Makes it hard for me to leave. I’d rather stay here with you.”
Ah, poor Rose. She’s scared to go back to Fleur. She mentioned that she didn’t approve of the woman her father is involved with and that this woman works at Fleur, which makes her uncomfortable. But that’s all I know. And they’re back in New York, not here in London. “Then don’t leave.” I drop my arms and reach for her, but she sidesteps away from me. “Stay with me.”
“You just encouraged me to go and now you’re trying to tempt me to stay?” She laughs. “You’re a bad influence.”
She has no idea.
After ten minutes of heavy kissing, I finally shove her ass out of the suite, glancing around the room after I shut the door behind her. This is the first time I’ve been left alone in the suite. My first opportunity to go through her stuff, and I’m hesitating like a wimp.
I need to see if she has anything of value stashed in her suitcase. Like maybe the Poppy Necklace, because I’d really like to know where it disappeared to. Though she’d be damn crazy to keep that thing in her suitcase. The hotel provides both an in-room safe and an even harder-to-crack safe behind the front desk. The in-room safes are useless. I’ve cracked hundreds of them over the years.
So I decide to go ahead and crack this one. Just for curiosity’s sake. No way would I take whatever I find in there.
My heart squeezes when I open the little metal door and see there’s a box inside. Slowly I reach in, tentatively grabbing the box, as if it’s some sort of wild animal ready to bite my fingers off at any given moment.
Withdrawing the box from the safe, I examine it. It’s old, covered in faded black velvet, and I open it, not surprised at all to see the necklace nestled within. Pink and white diamonds, each cut precise and perfect, each stone chosen for its flawless clarity. The necklace is going to fetch me an absolute fortune when I turn it in to Dexter. He’ll add it to his private collection, never to be seen in public again.
Collectors of rare stolen goods are weird. Me? I’d want to show that shit off, but in this kind of situation, you can’t. Everything’s a secret.
I’m starting to really hate secrets.
Without thought I shut the safe and take the velvet box with me, stashing it deep in the bottom of my duffel bag. Sweat dots my forehead when I zip up the bag and sit back, my heart hammering so hard it’s all I can hear.
I shouldn’t have taken the necklace. If Rose finds out, I’m ruined. Not only because she could rat me out to the police.
But because she’ll hate me for stealing from her. And I can’t blame her.
Muttering under my breath, I go to the closet and slam the door shut, banging the wall with my clenched fist. I don’t know what the hell is going on between me and Rose, but she means something to me. She’s more than a friend. More than a casual fuck. I like her. I could see myself falling for her if I don’t watch it.
Which means I need to fucking watch it.
Grabbing my cell, I call Mom, waiting for her to answer. She does on the third ring, sounding breathless and harried and so fucking annoyed I almost hang up.
But she has caller ID and she will know it’s me on the other end, so I don’t bother. I’d rather get this conversation over with.
“Mom,” I say, and she cuts me off before I can get another word out.
“Caden! Where the hell are you? You need to come home.”
Shit. “What’s wrong?”
“Oh, you’re going to be so mad at me.” She’s walking through the house, I can tell by the briskness of her words, the sound of her heels clicking loudly on the tile floor. I hear the yip of one of her annoying-as-fuck dogs in the background and I settle heavily in a chair, bracing myself for the bad news.
“What did you do?” I ask wearily, ready for one of her usual excuses, wondering which one it’ll be this time.
“Well, you know I’ve been having trouble lately with my headaches. Did I tell you about them? No? Anyway, I’ve been taking it easy, staying at home because I think the weather is causing them. It’s so blessedly hot here. But I broke down because I needed to go to the store a few days ago so I hopped in the car, went shopping, and when I was done, I had a blinding headache. Positively blinding. It was awful. So miserable. The sun hurt my eyes and not even my sunglasses could help, and those Chanel glasses are some of the best I’ve ever owned. I’ve had them for twenty years. Did you know they were a gift from your father? Well, anyway …”
“Mom,” I interrupt her. “Get to the part where you did something that’s going to make me so mad.”
“Right, right. Fine.” She takes a deep breath. “I became frustrated with the headache and the fact that I couldn’t get rid of it, so I finally just got back into the car and drove home. I miss not having a hired car and driver, Caden. I miss it so much.”
Oh my God. The woman wants and wants. I’ve wondered more than once if she drove Dad to do what he did. Not fair, but …
Yeah. Something to consider.
“So I’m driving. The sun is so bright and traffic was so heavy. I panicked. I don’t do well under pressure, you know. And then I …” Her voice drifts and I close my eyes, pinching the bridge of my nose.
It’s going to be bad. I think I know where she’s going with this, but I need to hear what she has to say. “You what?”
“I wrecked the car. Oh, Caden, I’m so, so sorry. I don’t know what happened. One minute I’m driving along and everything is fine, though the headache is making it a bit hard for me to see, but the sunglasses helped a little. And then the next thing another car darts out in front of me and I hit it. God, the noise! The crunching and the squeal of the tires were so loud. I got so scared I swerved right and hit the curb, smashing right into a fire hydrant.”
Of course she did. “You’re kidding.”
“I wish I were, darling. It was just a mess. Water everywhere. The horn got stuck and went on and on, bleating like a dying cow. The accident made the local news,” she admits, her voice low. She sounds embarrassed. “It was awful.”
Hell. It sounds like my very worst nightmare come to life. “So the car is a lost cause.”
“Both cars a lost cause, and since it was my fault … and the lady got so mad at me she started to yell and was throwing around words like lawsuit and, well, I didn’t know what to do. So I called Stanley.”
Great. Here comes another bill. “Why did you call your lawyer?”
“I thought he could help me. Give me the proper advice I needed,” she admits, her voice small.
“Mom. He just wants to keep you talking so he can then send you a ridiculous bill for three hours’ worth of assistance on a phone call. And he can’t help you yet. You need to talk to the insurance company first.”
“That’s exactly what Stanley said!” She sounds surprised, like she has zero faith in me and I don’t know what the hell I’m talking about.
“Why didn’t you call me?”
“Oh, you know me. I get confused about the time change with you being in London. And you’re with your little friend, so I didn’t want to disturb you.”
“What little friend?” Unease creeps over my skin. What does she know? How could she know who I’m with? Hell, how could she know anything?
“That Mitchell Landers. Remember how pudgy he was when you two were in the seventh grade? That boy drove me crazy. I know he’s the one who introduced you to marijuana,” she says irritably.
I almost want to laugh. Almost. “Mom, I’m the one who gave Mitchell his first joint. Not the other way around.”
“You’re so funny, trying to make jokes during a time like this.” She sighs. “When are you coming home?”
“When do you want me to come home?”
“Tonight? Get on pudgy Mitchell Landers’s jet and come right home, Caden. Come to Miami. I’m tired of you living in the city. That place is awful. I need your help. I’m getting phone calls from the insurance company and I don’t know what to tell them. You’d know what to say.”
Hello, real life, you’ve just come pounding hard on my front door. “I can’t come home tonight. Mitchell’s not leaving London until early next week.” Thank Christ. We’ve both been in agreement about extending our stay here in England. But that leaves me only a few days with Rose before I have to return.
And that’s not enough time.
“Oh, poo. Come home now. Book a flight, then.”
“You can wait a few more days, right?”
“I suppose,” she says sullenly.
“Besides, a last minute flight costs big money and I don’t want to waste a dime. Not after your car accident. God knows what else you’re going to be billed for,” I say, exasperated with her, with my entire life. “I bet the city is going to make you pay for that busted hydrant.”
“I’ll fight it. That’s the most ridiculous thing ever. I can’t help it if they place their hydrants in ridiculous places where any car could come along and destroy one.”
I’m not even touching that statement. “Listen, I’ll come home in a few days, okay? In the meanwhile, direct all calls from the insurance company or anyone else to me, got it?”
“They won’t talk to you, Caden. They want to talk to me. I’m the one who caused the accident,” she points out.
“I’m trying to help you, Mom. Okay? So give them my number. At the very least, stop answering the damn phone unless it’s me.”
“And how am I supposed to know if it’s you calling?” she asks, sounding well and truly puzzled. She’s older than most of my friends’ moms, close to seventy, since she and my father had me late in life. I was one of those cherished babies after they tried so hard for so many years to become pregnant. The prized baby boy, the son they indulged and spoiled, turning me into an utter brat. Until I had to straighten up and become a man when I was only a teen after my father jumped off a building and ended it.
Fucker.
“You have caller ID, Mom. Remember?”
The conversation goes on like this for a few more minutes, me trying to calm her down, Mom trying to tell me story after story that I couldn’t give two shits about. I let her ramble on, the familiar guilt that washes over me expected. I’m all she has. She doesn’t have many friends, because all of her supposed dear friends ditched her after Dad jumped to his death and we lost most of our money. What the bank didn’t take, we sold, and I managed to somehow move Mom into a small condo in Miami once I graduated high school.
I finally end the call with Mom and immediately call Cash, tapping my foot against the floor as I wait for him to pick up. Cash isn’t his real name, because come on, life isn’t that funny, but he’s the man we all go to in order to turn our loot into cash, and so it’s a nickname he picked up ages ago. Way before my time. The old geezer is close to Mom’s age and as slick as anything you’ve ever seen. Smart, too. He’s been doing this for years and took me under his wing when I first came to him.
I owe him lots of things, but mostly my sanity.
“Caden Kingsley. Where the hell are you, son?” Cash greets me in his familiar gravelly voice.
“Still in London, old chap,” I say, making him laugh at my horrible attempt at an English accent. “Where are you?”
He travels around as much as we all do, though he’s based out of Miami most of the time. He’s checked in on Mom more than once and I appreciate that, and so does she, since she flirts with him every chance she can get. Plus, he looks like a typical lounge lizard. Slicked-back silver hair, overly tanned skin, shirt unbuttoned halfway down his chest to reveal the gold medallion as big as his fist hanging from a thick gold chain.
Yeah. Cheesy. But the man is worth a load of cash and has no problems flaunting it.
“I’m in New York, motherfucker,” he says in a tough-guy New York accent before he bursts into laughter that turns into wheezing. I let him ride it out. “I’ve missed you.”
“I saw you a month ago.”
“And it’s been three weeks too long. You’ve been coming to me so much these last few months it seems odd, not seeing your handsome mug,” Cash says.
“Yeah, well, you’ll see me soon. Gotta get home so I can take care of Mom. When are you headed back to Miami?” I tell him briefly what she did, which only makes him laugh harder. He’s always had a thing for my mom. Sometimes I wish I could hook the two of them up so they could fall madly in love and he’ll take care of her for the rest of her life, not me.
But that’ll never happen. She refuses to let anyone in after what Dad did to her. Not that I can blame her.
“You know what your mom needs?” Cash asks once I finish the story.
“To be institutionalized?” I wish. And then I immediately don’t wish, because what kind of shitty son am I? “Hell, I’m kidding. You know I am. I’m the one who should be institutionalized.”
“Naw. You’re fine. Though you do need to straighten up your act. But your pretty mama? She needs a good man to keep her straight. And I could be that man, you know.” He’s always making statements like that. Maybe I should take him up on it. But I figure that as usual, he’s joking.
“Right, right, in my dreams you’ll become my stepfather, Cash.”
He laughs. Wheezes some more. The man needs to lay off the cancer sticks. “It could happen. You’re the one who throws the roadblocks.”
“Uh-huh. Look, I’m going to grab a few things over the next few days. Nothing too big, but I’ll need fast cash.” I clear my throat, fighting off the guilt that threatens. Guilt that I haven’t felt in a long-ass time because damn it, I do this to survive. I shouldn’t care what other people think of me, especially Rose. “Will you still be in the city next week?”
“Yeah, though listen. There’s a little something I want to discuss with you. Hold on.” I can hear him as he exits his office and I assume he’s just walked outside. “I have a proposition for you.”
“What sort of proposition?” It better not be some crazy scheme. The man used to come up with some outrageous shit, especially when I was younger and more daring—or stupid, take your pick—but he’s laid off that stuff, thank God.
“Nothing bad, son. I swear. This is actually legit. Like a real job—no criminal activity involved.”
Now that piques my interest. If I want Rose to take me seriously—and holy shit, I’m pretty sure I do—I need to go straight.
I need to leave my past behind.