Somebody to Love

“Miss Welles, your father would like you to join him in the study,” said Thing Two somberly. The man held a long and meaningless title at Welles Financial, but so far as Parker could tell, his job was to echo her father and occasionally slap him on the back in admiration. He fell into step behind Harry, keeping six or seven paces behind.

“Parker. Always lovely to see you.”

And then there was Thing One.

It was his customary line, usually delivered with a raised eyebrow and a smirk, and she hated it. Yes, Thing One was attractive—Harry would never hire an ugly person. The whole cheekbones and perfect haircut and bored affect…okay, okay, he was hot. But he knew it, which detracted significantly, and that line—Parker, always lovely to see you—blick. Add to the fact that he was a Harry-in-the-making, and his appeal went down to nil.

Thing One didn’t work for Welles Financial; he was Harry’s personal attorney, having replaced the original Thing One a few years ago—why change a perfectly good nickname? He lived somewhere here in Rhode Island and did things like…well, Parker really didn’t know. Occasionally she’d have to sign a paper he brought by. Otherwise, he seemed fairly useless, glib, smug and so far up her father’s butt she wondered how he could see daylight.

“Thing One,” she murmured with a regal nod. Miss Porter’s hadn’t been for nothing.

“It’s James, since you can’t seem to remember. I also answer to Mr. Cahill.”

“Thing One suits you so much more.”

He gave her a sardonic look, then turned to her friend. “Hello, Lucy,” he said. He’d met her at a number of Nicky-related events—God forbid Harry come alone. “Congratulations on your wedding.”

“Oh, thank you,” Lucy said, looking a little surprised that he knew. Parker wasn’t. Harry was hardly a doting grandfather, but he did keep tabs on Nicky’s life. Or had his people keep tabs, as the case might be.

“After you, ladies,” he said. He looked somber. Parker was more accustomed to seeing him in full-blown slickster mode, kissing up to her dad, glad-handing whoever was around him. A small quiver of anxiety ran through her gut. Something was…off.

As they walked down the hall, Parker rubbed the tip of her ear. It was itchy. Stress eczema, probably, brought on by dear old dad.

Harry never did any real work in the study. So far as Parker could tell, he used it to impress and intimidate his colleagues. The room was beautiful, though, filled with first-edition books, Tiffany windows, a state-of-the-art humidor and a desk the size of a pool table. Harry sat in his leather chair now, his thick gray hair perfectly cut, his suit Armani, his eyes cool. Around his arm was twined Apollo, her father’s pet ball python.

Yeah. You are your pet, right? Apollo was maybe four feet in length—Parker didn’t spend a lot of time looking at him, as he gave her a hearty case of the heebie-jeebies. Nicky, though…in case living in a mansion wasn’t cool enough, he loved to impress his friends with Apollo, whose glass cage, it must be noted, was always locked. Didn’t want to have a python slithering around the house, no indeed. The gardener was charged with feeding him and cleaning his cage.

“It’s so Dr. Evil,” Lucy whispered, giving Parker’s hand a squeeze. She went to a window seat and curled up there, nearby, but at a distance.

“So, Harry,” Parker said, that nervousness flaring again. She sat in one of the three leather chairs in front of the desk. Things One and Two stood to one side, like soldiers at a funeral. “How are things? Are you here for the weekend?”

“No. And things have been better. Is my grandson almost finished with school?”

“Yes. Then he’s going to California with his dad and Lucy.”

Harry glanced at Lucy. “Glad to hear it.”

“Glad to hear it,” echoed Thing Two, scratching his stomach. Parker waited for Thing One to chime in, too, but he remained silent, his arms folded.

Harry gazed at his pet, then kissed the snake’s head. Parker tried not to flinch. That snake would make some very attractive shoes. Otherwise, he was her rival for Harry’s attention. Well, hardly her rival. Apollo was ahead by miles. Her father looked at his minions. “Gentlemen, have a seat.”

Thing One and Thing Two obeyed, taking the seats on either side of her. She glanced at Lucy, who gave her a nervous smile of solidarity. There was definitely something in the air, and for the life of her, Parker felt a little bit as if she was about to be sentenced.

She wasn’t far off.

“Well, there’s no easy way to say this,” her father said, stroking his snake.

“No easy way,” Thing Two murmured.

Harry didn’t look up from the snake. “We’re broke. You have to move.”

CHAPTER TWO

JAMES CAHILL, also known as Thing One, closed his eyes. Granted, Parker Welles was not his favorite person, but even so. Hearing it put so baldly…uncool. Her friend gave a little squeak. Otherwise, there was silence.

He glanced at the princess. She didn’t move for a second, then tucked her hair behind one ear, the tip of which was growing red. Otherwise, she just sat there, her profile to him. She crossed her legs. Said legs were flawless—long, smooth, perfect. Not that he was allowed to look at them—she’d put him in his place quite a while ago, and yes, she was being informed of her financial ruin, but man, those legs were incredible.

“Broke?” she said, then cleared her throat.

“That’s right,” Harry answered, petting the snake. “You’ve heard of broke, I assume?”

Now, James knew that Apollo was some kind of security blanket for Harry; easier to break the news to his only child if he had something else to look at. Their whole vibe was always wicked uncomfortable; James hated having to go to Welles family events, but if Harry invited him, he’d come along. It was the least he could do, given what Harry had done for him. Didn’t make things fun, though.

Parker took a deep breath, her br**sts rising under her silky shirt. Nice. Focus, idiot. The perils of being a straight guy in the room with a beautiful woman. Even one who loved putting him down.

“What happened, Dad?” she asked, her voice more gentle than James had ever heard it. And “Dad.” He couldn’t say he’d ever heard her call him anything but Harry in the six years he’d been working for the guy.

Harry shifted Apollo to his other arm. “Just a bump in the road. For now, there’s no more money.”

“No more—”

“James, fill her in.”

“James, why don’t you fill her in?” Vernon echoed, parrotlike.

Right. Time to earn that salary. “Okay, well, it’s a little complicated,” he began.

She gave him a razor blade of a look. “Try me. I’m a Harvard grad.”

So much for her soft edges. And God forbid he forget that her blood ran crimson. James himself had gone to Boston University; once, he’d flirted with a Harvard girl and told her he went to BU. “Where’s that?” she’d asked, because if you went to Harvard, other schools didn’t exist.

She had, however, gone home with him.

“Magna cum laude,” Parker added.

“Should I kneel?” he asked. Harry snorted, and Parker’s mouth tightened. Not cool. James hadn’t meant to make it seem as if it was boys vs. girl here. Even if it kind of was.

Parker’s friend cleared her throat. “Um, Parks, you want me to, uh, get started on dinner?”

“I’d rather you stayed,” Parker said. Her tone was locked into rich-girl drawl. “Please continue, Thing One.”

Yes, Majesty. “It seems that Harry got mixed up in an insider-trading deal.”

She looked back at her father, who was stroking his snake. “Oh, Harry.”

“Let him finish,” Harry said, not looking away from Apollo.

James shifted in his seat. “Harry made a sizable investment in a company on which he’d had inside information—”

“I know what insider trading is,” she said.

“—and that was obviously unethical, but more to the point, the results weren’t what the information promised.” Okay, here came the hard part. “To cover the losses to investors, your father needed to, ah, liquidate certain assets.”

She blinked, and James felt a pang of sympathy for her as realization dawned in her eyes. “Which assets, Harry?” she asked, her voice calm.

Harry looked at the python. “Your trust fund.”

She looked at her hands, her mouth tight. “Granddad set that up for me.”

“Well, I’ve been managing it most of your life,” Harry snapped. There was a pause, and the grandfather clock in the corner ticked ominously. “Nicky’s, too,” Harry added in a softer voice.

James couldn’t help but wince. It had to hurt, hearing your father had sold you down the river. Your kid, too.

“You stole your grandson’s trust fund, Harry?” Her voice was harsher now.

Harry’s lips pressed together. “I’m the administrator of the Welles family trust, Parker, as you’re well aware. I liquidated it temporarily.”

“Liquidated it temporarily,” Vernon echoed, smiling like an idiot. James had almost forgotten he was here.

“How temporarily?”

“Yo!” came a voice. A shaggy-haired guy wearing overalls stood in the doorway. “Hey there, gang, sorry. Is this the Welles place?”

“It is,” Harry said.

“It’s awesome, man! Really nice! So, like, we’re the movers? Gonna start in the game room, okay?”

“Billiard room,” Harry muttered.

The mover laughed. “Totally! Colonel Mustard in the billiard room with the candlestick! Dude, is that a snake? Nice! Okay, better get going. This place is frickin’ huge! See you later!”

Parker’s mouth was open. “They’re taking stuff already? I— Wow, Harry. You don’t mess around.”

Her face was pale now, and James wished he could, well, make this easier for her somehow. “Parker, anything that you bought for you or Nicky or the house is yours. Everything else, I’m afraid, falls under Harry’s assets, which the Feds have seized. The investigator is aware that you’re living here, and you have a little time to, ah, pack.”

“My God.” She squeezed her little finger and glanced at her pal, who was frozen.

“It’ll be okay,” Lucy murmured automatically.

Harry cleared his throat. “Obviously, Parker, having these vultures pick over our belongings is not my choice. I’ll get everything back.”

“Really,” she said faintly.

“Eventually. I’m a little…constrained for the immediate future.”

“A little constrained indeed,” Vernon said.

That was one word for it. James rubbed his forehead. Wicked headache coming on.

“So.” Parker shook her head. “About my trust fund, and Nicky’s. Don’t you need my signature to just…empty it? There must be something left.”

Nope. There was nothing, and Harry had only needed James himself to file the paperwork. Poor planning on her part, that was for sure. At any time since her eighteenth birthday, she could’ve taken full control of that money. When her son was born, same deal.

She never had.

“Your signature wasn’t required,” Harry said. “Nor was your consent.”

“Your consent was not required,” Vern said, nodding cheerfully. There was a crash and a curse from somewhere in the house.

Parker took a deep breath “Wow, Harry. So it’s gone? That was a lot of money.”

“Yes, Parker!” Harry barked. “I’m sorry to say you’ll have to make do for a while. Until I can recover some losses.”