Thirty - Six - Serena
“Aaron Bentley is my father.”
Living away from the noise of the city is amazing. But in times like these, the distance is a giant pain in the ass. Uber doesn’t break all the rules like Beau does, so it takes me longer than usual to get home.
Seeing the Ford Mustang parked inside our residence, security presence strong strums a different emotion in me this time around. Not concern and bewilderment as before, but rage. Blood roiling rage.
Angus isn’t sitting on the steps this time. I find them inside. At our dining table. Eating with our silverware, from our monogrammed plates.
A long fur coat is draped over the back of Virginia’s chair, and she’s wearing my pink polka-dot apron.
My father, whose misery is unhidden, glances up when I enter and visibly sags with relief.
“You let her cook in my kitchen?” I ask through clenched teeth.
He shrugs as if to say, what else was I supposed to do to stall them?
“Now, now,” Virginia starts, “that kitchen was mine before it was ever yours. Granted, quite a few things have changed architecture wise, but it still feels like old times. Doesn’t it, Ang?”
“You mean how you used to sneak me in so I could have my way with you? Cooked and fed me first before he got home from work and had the leftovers?” Angus’s gaze darts around and his mouth dips down at the corners. “Nay. Too much has changed. Blinking red lights everywhere, watching our every move.”
Virginia laughs. “We never would have gotten away with it if things were like this back then, huh? I never would have gotten knocked up and messed up the plan.” She turns her smile to my father. “All of this is because of me, isn’t it, Aaron, baby? You will never love again, never trust again. Because of me.”
Although she started off in a jeering tone, she ended on an apologetic note, as though she’s actually sorry she made him an overly paranoid shell of himself.
But I’m not having it. She can take her regret and shoot herself in the head with it.
“Hey, Jezebel,” I snap, jerking her attention back to me. “Don’t look at him. Don’t speak to him. Don’t even breathe in his direction. From now on, you deal with me. You’ve done enough, slut.”
“Hey now,” Angus scolds, “that’s your mother and my wife. You better watch how you talk to her.”
I glance over my shoulder to Max, who’s standing guard at the door and tell him, “Throw this shit stain outside. And by outside, I mean outside the gates. Let him wait out there.”
Max doesn’t hesitate. He grabs the bearded man—who looks every bit like me—up from the chair by his shirt. “Let’s go.”
Angus tries to fight out of his grip. “What on earth do you think you’re doing? Let go of me!”
Max slides me a side glance, asking for permission.
I nod my head and he smirks.
“Get your hands off me! I’m not going anywher—”
Angus falls instantly silent when Max rears back and knocks him out with one punch. His body goes limp.
Virginia shrieks. “Oh my God! Why would you do that?”
Max drags Angus’s unconscious body out of the room, his boots squeaking across the marble tiles.
“I did that,” I say, turning to her. “I’m an entirely different challenge, Virginia. I fight back. You might think you’ve ‘broken’ him, but I’ll never give you the chance to break me.” I pause to give her a fake smile, reveling in her shocked expression. “Now sit there until I get back. You move and you’ll be given the same treatment as that little pus-filled maggot you chose over a really, really good man.”
Her mouth opens and close like a gaping fish. But I don’t wait. My father and I both walk out of the room.
“Was that necessary?” he asks as we climb the stairs with brisk steps.
“Yes,” I reply. “I’m your weakness, Daddy. I make you weak and voiceless and they know that. You’ll tip-toe, walk on eggs shells, let them disrespect you in your own home because you’re so afraid they’ll take me away from you.”
We start up the second flight of stairs. “But in this, I’m going to be your strength. I’m here to be your voice. So they’ll understand that they have no power over us. That our going along with this blackmail is a choice on our part, not because we have to. And most certainly not because we fear them.”
He’s quiet. It must be an ego bruiser for a man to hear his child tell him he’s weak, in any way whatsoever. Fathers strive to be their children’s heroes. Their protectors. And he is. He always has been.
But he’s also afraid of these people. A fear that’s all about me. He doesn’t want to lose me, so he allows them to bust in and do as they please, throwing threats and taunts around.
Well, I want him to see that he doesn’t have to do this on his own anymore. Suffer in fear and silence and paranoia. I’m here. And for once, I have to be the hero.
We stop outside the door of the museum and I punch in the code. It beeps us in and I go straight to the grand piano. I locate the secret box from inside the tufted bench. Unlock it and peer inside.
I guess I just wanted to see for myself that it’s gone. It just…it just doesn’t make sense. No one knows about this box. And no one has access to this room except Max and my father.
Max, because he’s the only security allowed to oversee the camera footage of the museum. We didn’t trust that the other securities wouldn’t be tempted to set up an outside job to rob our valuables, so none of them are even allowed on this floor. Only Max.
Max…
I stop my thoughts in their misguided tracks, refusing to let my mind go there. Max would never do something like this. I know that man. I could sit on a stand and vouch for him without a smidge of doubt. Loyalty is everything to him.
Setting the empty box down, I turn to my father and place my hands on his shoulders. “Daddy, I want you to step back from this, alright? Let me take it from here.”
He’s already shaking his head. “’Rena, these people—”
“Are tricky and dangerous,” I finish for him. “I know. But I’m not afraid of them. I’m going to take care of it. I’ll buy us some more time, try to find out what happened to the brooch. And if it’s gone for good, I’ll just pay them from my own money, alright?”
He looks dubious.
“Let go and trust me, Daddy,” I beg. “Please.”
I need him to. He’s not himself since these people showed up and I know it’s because he’s worrying 24/7. If the brooch is gone for good, it doesn’t matter, we can still afford to pay off these vultures a hundred times over. There’s nothing to panic about. We only need to do it right this time, legally, and make damn sure they never set foot near us again.
The real problem here is that, even with all the cameras and manned security, someone was able to break in and steal a secret family heirloom. Which is another reason I want him to step back, get some rest and not think about the fact that we were breached regardless of all his protective efforts.
“Okay,” he reluctantly agrees.
“I’ll have my assistant book you a suite at the Regency Hotel for a few days,” I tell him. “Max and I will stay here and sort this out.”
He shakes his head. “Call the other one.”
I’m confused. “Huh?”
“Kholton,” he clarifies. “I think he might be of better help.”
Kholton? How could he help with something he doesn’t even know about? “Since when do you trust Khol enough to involve him in something so private?”
Although his forehead is crinkled with worry, his eyes smile. “Since I watched him fall hopelessly in love with you.” His lips smile now, but it’s a sad smile. “The same way I fell for your mother. Fast, hard, and blind.”
What the what? “Khol’s not in love with me, Daddy. All we ever really do is fight.” And have hot sex. “There’s no…love involved.”
He just folds his lips and makes a “mngh” sound as he turns and walk out of the room. “I’ll go pack.”
What the heck?
I hang back in the museum for a couple of minutes, spun dizzy by this unfounded conjecture that Kholton freaking Sharpe is in love with me. Impossible.
I shake it off, mostly because this supposition came from my father. The same man who had his heart broken twice over by a woman he was “madly in love with” and is now so emotionally messed up that he’s given up on love altogether.
Deep down, he’s a hopeless romantic. Maybe that’s why he sees things that aren’t there. I’m not.
I head back downstairs and find Virginia exactly where I left her. She’s the epitome of drop-dead-gorgeous. I can understand why my father fell so hard.
She wears her blond hair in thick, deep, voluminous waves, like a vintage Hollywood actress. There’s even a beauty mark above her lip, although real or fake, I can’t tell. I can’t even imagine how much more devastating she was when she was younger. Ruthlessly ripping men’s hearts out. Believing she’s owed wealth and affection because she’s beautiful.
I hate her. I hate all women like her. Women who prey on vulnerable men. Men who are simple and just want love and a family. No, she’s not a Jezebel. She’s a Delilah. But she’ll certainly receive the fate of Jezebel.
“I’m going to need a few more days,” I say.
She’s startled, her attention snapping up from of her phone screen.
“What?” she asks. “No. We had an agreement.” Her eyes dart around, searching. “Where’s Aaron?”
“Mr. Bentley has excluded himself from the narrative.” I give her a plastic smile. “You’ll be dealing with me now. And what I’m telling you, is that I need a few more days.”
“For what?” She shoots up from the chair. “All you have to do is give us the brooch and we’ll sign whatever you want.”
“Unfortunately, I just looked over the agreement and it’s not to my liking,” I say. “It needs a little tweaking and that’s going to take a couple of days.”
Disbelieving, she shakes her head. “I read the contract. It’s airtight. It’s…” she trails off and her blue eyes narrow. “I swear to God, if you try to screw me over I’ll ruin you both. I’ll take you from him. I’ll go to the press—”
“Are you listening to yourself? Can you hear how dumb your threats are?” I cackle, because this is absolutely ridiculous. “For one, I’m a twenty-five-year old woman. An adult. You can’t take me from him. Or do you mean illegally? Because you failed miserably the last time you tried. Want to try again? Do it. I dare you. Best believe we’re more than prepared this time around.”
“What?” She looks stricken. “I didn’t—It wasn’t me…I—”
“As for the press,” I cut her off, uninterested in her denial. “Say you go to them with this ‘Aaron isn’t my real father’ tale, and you get what—ten grand? Twenty grand tops? What are you going to do then? Because you sure as hell won’t be getting a dime from us after that. The truth will be out and you’ll have no cards left to play. What other threats do you have, Mommy Dearest?”
A range of emotions flicker across her face, from defeat, to rage, to remorse, to fear, to rage again. Through gritted teeth, she spits, “That brooch belongs to my mother. You don’t deserve it. It belongs to me!”
“Your mother, my grandmother. Same blood.” I laugh. “And yeah, the brooch would’ve been yours if you hadn’t abandoned your whole family for that cockroach you call a husband.”
Her voice is quiet when she says, “He’s your father.”
As her mouth hangs open, grappling for some other card to play, I step up in her space and pin her with my glare. “I’m not giving you what you want because I have to. This is a choice I am making. Not Aaron, not you, but me. That means, if I get up tomorrow and don’t feel like giving you shit, then you don’t get shit.”
She shifts on her feet, seemingly on the verge of panic. “Okay. Okay. A few days. We can wait a few days.”
“Good.” I offer a thin smile. “Now, see your way out. I’ll call when the agreement is ready. And don’t ever set foot near this residence again. Intruders will be shot and survivors will be shot twice.”
She studies me for a long moment before she ducks her head and smiles. I don’t know what that’s about and I don’t care.
Slowly, she picks up her fur coat from the back of the chair, her handbag from the side table, and turns to leave. But not before dropping a prideful smile as she tells me, “You’re just like your father. Savage. Protective. Fearless. Determined. Your real father, Angus Gallagher.” And with a wink, she adds, “He’ll be proud.”