CHAPTER TWELVE
ELLE
Henry and I spend the next few hours making love, eating, and hydrating. He’s insatiable in the sack and I can’t help thinking that it’s because he’s got all of this pent-up emotion inside him. Either way, these were the best three hours of my life. I can’t remember feeling so happy or satisfied or euphoric.
No, I’m not so worried about getting pregnant because the probability is low at this particular point in my cycle, but I do note that I need to get on the pill quickly. I don’t ever want to go back to just screwing Henry. I want every time with him to be like this. Close. Intimate. And deliciously raw.
Speaking of raw…
“Wow. You really rode me hard.” I chuckle, lying next to him with my head on his bare chest. He’s well-endowed, so it’s probably going to take a day or two for me to recover.
“I was making up for lost time,” he says with a tinge of seriousness in his voice.
I lift my head and look at him. “What’s the matter?” He has to know there’s a way to fix this deal he’s made with his father. I’ve already come up with several solutions, but the first and most obvious step is to go and see the man. I’m not afraid of him. And despite what Henry’s said, I have to believe the guy loves his son. This leverage move—using my mother to get Henry to give up his dream of the NFL—was merely an opportunity to get what he wanted. But I find it difficult to believe that Henry’s father really would’ve let my mother just die like that. No, it was a game of chicken and Henry flinched. At least, that’s what I want to believe.
“I’m worried for you,” he says.
“Why me?” I run my hand over the side of my Henry’s head, dragging my fingernails through the soft strands. I love his messy, unkempt hair. It’s just too sexy.
“If you marry me, they’ll try to control you, Elle. They’ve done it with my sisters and my new brother-in-law.”
“How?” I ask.
“Chewy, my older sister’s new husband, is from Nigeria. His parents are schoolteachers, so my father offered to build two new wells and a school in their village so there’s room for more children.”
“That actually sounds kind of generous of your dad,” I point out.
“My brother-in-law thought so, too, but running the school and hiring more teachers requires money. Guarding the village requires money. So my father told my sister Michelle that the funding would be there as long as they needed it if she took over Claire’s role in the company next year.”
“I’m not following?”
“Claire’s my older sister. She’s been running the charities and public relations side for four years, but he wants her to take over some of the expansions outside of the oil business. He needs someone to take Claire’s spot.”
I give Henry’s words some thought. “Honestly, it sounds to me like your father trusts you guys and just wants you running things. I’m not sure it’s entirely evil of him.”
“Oh, that part isn’t evil, but it’s the hard ultimatums he gives us. ‘Do as I ask, or you’ll be cut off. From all of us.’”
“Oh.” I see now. He uses their love against them. “That’s not very nice.”
“No,” Henry agrees. “It’s not. And my mother is just like my dad, which is why you need to stay far, far away from them. They always start out seeming charitable, but they’re really ruthless, bloodthirsty sharks. They use money to control everyone.”
Walking away and telling them to shove their money is an option for Henry and his siblings, of course, but if they’re threatened with losing their family, too? That’s a bit harsh. Add to that, making the money about something that’s bigger than only one person—like clean water and schools for a poor village in Nigeria—it would take a very heartless person to walk away from that.
“It’s kind of sad, Henry.”
“What?”
“I think that if your parents didn’t force all of you to be their little minions, you’d probably want to work for them. You, for example. Were you planning to play football forever?”
“No. I really just want to play as long as my body will let me, but that isn’t very long.”
“See. The blackmail is completely unnecessary. And you know, I’ve reviewed over three hundred case studies on companies and their psychological underpinnings. Ultimately, their longevity and success is tied to the culture. And culture, of course, is really just another way of saying that a group of people have collectively agreed on how they feel about something—whether it’s good or bad, a positive force in their lives or a negative one. From there, the behavioral norms and rules are established, including systems of reward and hierarchy. It’s all very fascinating. But at the end of the day, running a company is astoundingly simple. You hire capable people and then you work to raise them up as high as they can go. But the moment you use threats and blackmail to control people, you’ve created a prison.”
Henry gives me a strange look. “I thought you were a physics major.”
“I am a woman of many interests, Henry. I’ve read over three thousand textbooks, lectures, and case studies in the areas of business, psychology, art, history, computer science, agriculture, and biology. Oh, and I know just about everything there is to know about making Twinkies—it was a phase when I was eight. But I’ve taken over eighty online classes and have completed the work of about thirty degrees.”
“So why don’t you have any?”
I shrug. “I find the pace of a classroom much too slow since the rate I can process information is fairly robust.”
“Jesus, I didn’t know dating a human computer could be so hot. You got a laptop handy, ’cause I think I’d like to have a three-way.”
“Ha!” I slap his arm. “Funny.”
“Oh, no. I’m not joking.” He rolls me onto my back and pins me down. “Talk nerdy to me, baby. Do some math out loud.” He kisses me.
“Stop it,” I giggle. “You’re making fun of me.”
“Nope. I’m just your fan. Especially now that I know I’ll never have to Google again, I think I will definitely agree to be your husband. But on one condition.”
“Are you discarding the football wedding?” I ask.
“No. That stands. So make it two conditions.”
“What?”
“When the time comes, we only invite our closest friends—okay. And your family, too, I suppose.”
Ah. Meaning, he doesn’t want his parents there.
“I am not afraid of your parents, Henry.” I’m sure there’s a reason for how he feels, but his father sounds like your stereotypical power monger. They are driven by fear—fear of losing, fear of being unimportant, fear of being powerless. I know exactly how to crack that kind of coconut. You appeal to their need for control. And if that doesn’t work, maybe I can win him over with some juggling.
“You should be afraid, Elle,” Henry says. “Which is why I’m going to do everything in my power to keep them away from you.”
Oh, boy. Then you’re really going to be pissed after I go visit your dad Monday morning. But there is no way in hell I’m letting Henry give up his dream without a fight. Besides, I think I owe this man, Henry’s father, a thank-you for everything he’s done for my mother, and it’s the perfect excuse to pay him a visit.
Still pinned beneath Henry, I lift my head and peck his lips. “Two plus two is four. Four plus four is eight. Eight plus—”
“Oh, Elle…” He starts nuzzling my neck. “Don’t stop, baby. Don’t stop.”
After a quick dinner—Chinese takeout since we were both tired—Henry dropped me off at the hospital so I could check on my mother once more and get my car before heading home to feed Mr. Nucleus, II. Henry gave me the longest, most passionate kiss in the car I’d ever had. And if it weren’t for two very important people I needed to worry about—him and my mother—I could’ve stayed there all night, enjoying the fullness of his lips, the roughness of his jawline, and the feel of his enormous arms wrapped around me.
I wished him luck at his game in Indiana tomorrow and told him I’d be there cheering in spirit. I then went up to my mother’s room to find that my father had gone home to shower and change. My sister, Lana, was there reading Cat in the Hat aloud. It was a tip I’d read in a study that reading something that one can associate with positive memories helps boost happy brain waves.
Anyway, the nurse said her vitals were strong and her blood work came back looking good, which means her body is responding to the medicine and getting ready to fight a war. I read the studies on the drug, so I concur, but even I don’t know what will happen. This is the part of life that all of the smarts in the world cannot help. It’s human will and a million different external variables all rolled together. Fate, chaos, luck—people call it many things, but I simply see it as the reason that sometimes things happen when they’re not supposed to. And sometimes things don’t happen when all of the right ingredients are present. Not everything in the universe has a rhyme or reason, though many scientists would argue against that. Sometimes you just gotta have faith.
Saturday, I spend most of the day with my mother and we watch Henry play on my smartphone. “See, Mom, there he is right here,” I point to the dot among many dots on my screen, “ripping off that guy’s head. He’s awesome, right?” I admit, the man knows how to use the force of his mass to create a desired outcome. The delicious soreness between my legs is proof of that.
“So are you two official now?” she asks.
“Yeah. Very,” I say, but I’m hesitant to tell her about my crazy proposal. I know she’ll worry and say I’m too young and the last thing she needs is to worry.
“I’m happy you’ve found someone,” she mutters and dozes off with a smile on her face.
“I am, too, Mom,” I whisper. Because for the first time in my life, I feel like everything’s going to be okay. Just don’t screw it up, Elle.
Sunday, Mr. Nucleus and I meet Tassie at the dorms and I clean out my closet. She’s completely sad that I’m leaving school until I tell her that Henry and I have decided to be together and that I asked him to marry me.
“I told you!” She squeals, jumps, and claps. “You two are perfect together! Ha! When’s the wedding? Can I be maid of honor? Or maybe your minister? I’ll get my license online! I’ve always wanted to marry someone.”
I pick up my sweet little kitten, who’s burring his face in my purse on the bed, and stroke him between the ears. He’s the most laid-back kitten I’ve ever seen. You can cuddle him all day long and he won’t complain.
“I know we’re already parents,” I say jokingly, “but we are a long way from getting married. I just wanted him to know that I’m dead serious about him being the one.”
“Still,” Tassie sucks in a breath and whooshes it out, a dreamy look in her eyes, “it’s so sweet.”
“I thought you were against marriage.”
“I am for me, but there’s no doubt in my mind that Henry and you are good for each other,” she says.
“Which is why I have to figure out how to get him back in the game.”
“I thought you hated the fact he plays football,” she says.
“I didn’t hate it. I simply didn’t see him as relationship material—he seemed way too committed to beer and sports. But then he left the frat and gave everything up to save my mother. I just don’t think you get better ingredients for love than that.”
“But you do love him. Right, Elle?”
“Yeah. I mean, it sort of snuck up on me, but I’ve never seen a sexier guy or met anyone quite like him.” Honestly, I can’t seem to contain how much love I feel inside for this man. “That’s why I’m going to talk to his father and try to work something out.” In my mind, this has an easy solution. Let Henry play football for four or five years, and then Henry will likely want to work in the family business.
“I don’t know, Elle. I’ve heard some of the things Henry’s said in casual conversations when I’ve stayed with Hunter at the man-pad. Henry’s dad sounds like a complete bastard.”
“I’m sure he is, but Henry’s delusional if he thinks I’m going to just sit back and do nothing.” After all, Henry gave up everything for me. Why wouldn’t I try to help him?
There’s genuine worry in Tassie’s blue eyes. “I guess you have to do what you think is right, but be careful, Elle. I’ve heard rumors about Henry’s family.”
“Like what?” I ask.
“That people who’ve tried to challenge them end up missing—stuff like that.”
“Really? No way.”
She shrugs. “They’re the richest family in the state. I doubt that they got that way by playing nice.”
“Of course, but murder? Sounds like bullshit to me.” I hope.
“Still, be careful. And call me afterwards. Tell me how it went.”
“You’ll be the first to know.”
Monday morning, I pull my hair into a neat bun and put on black slacks, a white blouse with red pinstripes, and a matching red tie. Mr. Nucleus II and I are staying at my parents’ house again, so I’m back in my old bedroom. I text my father and let him know I’ll stop by the hospital later and bring him some nonhospital food; then I hit the road. It’s an hour drive into Houston, and I want to get there early because I don’t have an appointment.
But I have a plan.
I park on the street and enter the enormous skyscraper’s lobby, quickly noting the sterile atmosphere and lack of smiles. People are shuffling by the turnstiles with card readers, past a security desk, not one happy face to be had on any of them.
“Hi, I’m here to see Chester Walton,” I say to the burly security guard with a giant silver mustache.
“Your name?”
This is going to be a risk, but there’s no other way for me to get in to see such a busy man. “Just tell him that Henry’s fiancée is here.”
The man gives me a look. “You’re…Henry Walton’s fiancée,” he says with extreme skepticism.
“Yep.”
The man takes a breath, picks up the phone, and dials. “Hi. I have a young woman here to see Mr. Walton. Says she’s Henry’s fiancée.” He bobs his head. “Thank you.” He hangs up the phone and then reaches for a visitor’s badge. “Take the last elevator on the left. It will go straight to the top floor.”
I hadn’t expected it to be this easy. “Thanks.” I go through the badge scanner and take the turbo elevator all the way to the forty-fifth floor. The moment the doors open, I notice the lifeless ambiance extends here, too. It’s like they hired Scrooge as their interior decorator.
“May I help you?” says an older woman with glasses and brown hair. She smiles, but I can tell she doesn’t mean it. She’s got a sad, defeated look in her eyes.
“I’m here to see Mr. Walton.”
“And you are?” she asks.
“Megan, tell the pilot we’ll be leaving at two—” A large man emerges from his office, and I know right away he is Henry’s dad. The broad shoulders, the nose, and height are unmistakable Walton traits.
“Who’s this?” Henry’s father looks me over like he’d sooner spit on me than speak to me directly.
“Uhhh…” The assistant swallows hard like she knows something bad is about to happen.
“Elle.” I stick out my hand. “I’m Elle Williams.”
He stares blankly for a moment. “Ah. You’re Henry’s little charity case—the one with the dying mother.”
Thanks for the sensitive touch, buddy. “Yes. That’s me, but we’re hopeful she’s going to come through this. Actually, that’s why I’m here. I know you’re busy, but do you have a moment? It’s extremely important. It’s about Henry.”
“What did he do now?”
“I promise if you’ll just give me a few minutes, I’ll be out of your hair.”
With a snarl on his lips, he steps aside and holds out his arm, gesturing for me to go inside his office.
Why do I feel like I’ve just been invited into a kraken cave?
I smile politely. “Thanks.”
He follows me in, shuts the door, and goes over to his desk, taking a seat. “You have sixty seconds. What can I do for you?”
Ah, yes. The control freak. I try to keep in mind that men like this think of themselves as gods. I am not here to challenge that or change him. I’m here to get what I need for Henry.
“Thank you. That’s very generous,” I say. “Everyone knows how busy you are, so first, I’ll start out by saying how grateful I am for what you’ve done for my mother. It’s not every day a stranger takes their time and money to help someone like that.”
“We help people all the time. Haven’t you ever heard of the Walton Charitable Trust?”
“I have. Out of the five point two billion dollars of net income you brought in last year, you donated five million.”
He makes a circle with his hand, urging me to wrap it up.
“Yes, so, I’m asking you to reach into that generous heart of yours and give one more time to someone who isn’t a stranger. Please, let Henry off the hook. His dream is to go pro, and I think not having that chance is the kind of thing that could ruin him. And I find it difficult to believe that you’ve worked so hard to give him everything just so he’ll be miserable his entire life.”
“So that dipshit son of mine really thinks this will work? Sending some…” he makes a sour face and his green eyes wash up and down my body, “some poor little nerdy girl to beg on his behalf?”
Wow. What a jerk. But fine. I can take it. “Henry has no idea I’m here, sir. But if you could see what this ultimatum of yours has done to him, I think you’d—”
“I think you can turn right around and remove your skinny little ass from my office. No one here gives a shit about what you think.”
This guy is so offensive. I might need to challenge him to a game of chess and put him in his place. “Well, Henry cares.”
“Henry’s a child.”
What? “He’s a man. A good man. And I’m sure despite your caustic language, you must’ve had something to do with that.”
“He’s a retarded pussy who likes to play with balls.”
Whoa. Okay. That’s about enough. “You don’t talk about my fiancé that way. And calling anyone a retard is just plain insensitive. No wonder he doesn’t want you at the wedding.”
Henry’s dad laughs. “Wedding? Whose?”
“Mine and Henry’s. We’re engaged.”
He shakes his head with disgust. “What did my bonehead son of mine tell you, huh? That he loves you? And you believed him? You’re a lot dumber than you look, sweetie, if you dropped your panties for that old line.”
I literally want to throw up in this man’s face. He’s just that disgusting.
“Henry loves me. I love him. I don’t need you to approve or—”
He stands from his exec chair and plants his hands on his desk. “Henry is already engaged. You’ve been suckered, Elle. He’s marrying Candice right after he graduates.”
I’m a bit stunned because, obviously, he’s lying. Only, he doesn’t sound like he’s lying.
He continues, “Now, I’ll give you ten seconds to leave my office, or I’ll have you arrested for trespassing. Oh, and if you interfere with Henry marrying Candice, not only will I make sure your mother’s treatment stops, I’ll make sure your family is thrown out on the streets.”
I gasp in horror. “You can’t do that.”
“Sweetheart,” he begins loosening his tie and unbuttoning his shirt, “I can do anything I like.”
Ohmygod. Is he taking off his clothes? Why’s he taking off his clothes? What the fuck?
I start backing toward the door, wondering how this situation turned all rapey on me. “You’re a monster,” I whisper.
“Yeah. So I’ve heard,” he says. “Now unless you want to see where Henry gets his impressive size from, I suggest you leave.” He begins unzipping his slacks, and I bolt from the room, slamming the door behind me.
I’m in tears. “What the hell?”
“It’s eleven o’clock,” says his assistant, who’s at her desk, looking at me with pity. “Naked yoga,” she explains. “Eleven o’clock sharp every morning. He waits for no man. Or woman. Or assistant.”
I cringe. “Oh, God. Really? That’s just wrong.” But I’m relieved that Henry’s dad isn’t Chester the Molester.
He’s just a really big asshole.
She nods. “It gives new meaning to the word dictation. That’s for certain.”
Off the top of my head, he’s breaking at least twenty laws. “As your boss, he can’t do that. You should talk to a lawyer.”
“Honey, he owns all the lawyers in this town. Best not make that man angry.”
I let out a breath and run my hand over my hair. This guy isn’t simply cruel, he’s insane.
Wait. It hits me like a ton of bricks. Filled with jealousy. Henry’s already engaged? No. I don’t believe it. I won’t believe it.
I look at Megan. “Does Henry have a fiancée?”
She hesitates for a moment and then gives me a nod. “Candice.”
My heart fills with heavy, toxic tar. “For how long?”
“I don’t know, miss. I think since they were in high school.”
I nod slowly, trying to let that poison sink in. I wouldn’t trust one word coming from Chester the Molester’s mouth, but this woman? She has nothing to gain from lying to me.
“Is there really a wedding planned for next spring?” I rasp out.
With sympathy in her eyes, she slides an envelope across her desk. “June. This is the proof from the printer.”
Seeing the eggshell-colored paper with the gold calligraphy literally makes me want to retch. How could Henry lie to me like this?
“Thanks,” I say and stagger toward the elevators. My mind has officially been blown, but not in a good way.
What am I going to do next?