Beach Reads Box Set

by Madden-Mills, Ilsa

  “Well, we suspect it’s her. We all just call it Regan’s column. It’s a sort of …”

  “Poison pen,” her husband provides the word she was searching for.

  “Nasty, if you ask me,” Sweet says.

  “No one asked you. It’s great,” Lo says enthusiastically. “Our very own town crier. Anyway, we’re all rooting for Ms. Confidence to forgive you, Mr. Rivers. Let us know,” he says and hands me my drink.

  I walk out of there and cross the small footbridge that leads to the office park of Rivers Wilde.

  I thought moving to a big city would rid me of the curse of nosy Italian mamas that plagued the small village I had lived in with Gigi. But instead, I’d moved into what was essentially a small town and everyone is invested in what’s happening with Confidence and me. I’m just glad my office is downtown, twenty minutes away, tucked safely in the old Chevron Tower. And far away from the constant questions that only remind me that my girl isn’t talking to me and that I have no way of making her. Well, until yesterday.

  “You’re late,” Remington Wilde says as soon as I step through the sliding glass doors of his office.

  “This is all very man in the high castle, Wilde. Most executives work from home these days,” I tease.

  “Good for those motherfuckers. The can-be executives. I’ll be a leader and show up to the office every fucking day.”

  “You take everything as a challenge,” I scoff.

  “Yes. Because I’m addicted to winning. And you’re late,” he says.

  “No, I’m just not early.” I stick my hand out to shake his and we share a good-natured grin.

  “So, you’re finally back and in charge?” he asks, his dark eyes narrowed in naked skepticism.

  “I’m back,” I say before I unbutton my suit jacket and sit down across from him.

  “I know you’re not living in that old castle up there, are you?”

  “No, I bought a place in Rivers Wilde. It’s almost ready. Until then, I’m living in the Ivy,” I tell him.

  “How do you like it?” he asks.

  “I like it fine,” I say noncommittally.

  “If by ’fine’ you mean you like the good people, excellent food, world-class amenities, and being in the most convenient part of Houston, then I’m glad to hear it. Rivers Wilde is a tastemaker and so many have tried to replicate what we did. But there’s not another community like it in Houston,” he says.

  “Cut the sales talk. I’ve already been brought down by one of your sales ninjas. And, I’m here to sell you something,” I tell him.

  He chuckles and quirks his lips proudly. “Our sales team is the best in the country. We still use my dad’s training manual for our sales force. Almost thirty years later it’s still turning out fucking soldiers on our sales team,” he says and nods.

  “You hungry?” he asks and nods at the menu.

  “Nope, and I’ve got a chimichurri steak frites being delivered from Moxie’s at 12:30. I’m saving myself for that baby,” I joke.

  “From what I heard, that’s the only thing you’re calling baby these days,” he says and takes a sip of his drink. He grins at me mischievously from behind the lip of his cup. Confidence’s hasty departure from my house and her decampment to Rivers Wilde for the remainder of her stay was clearly the subject of rampant gossip.

  “I can’t believe you have time to listen to gossip.”

  “Oh, I don’t. But my twin, Regan, she lives for it and you two were the talk of the town after she was seen fleeing your house in the middle of a fucking hurricane. That sounded like some drama. And your stepmother sounds like a nut job,” he says.

  “Fuck off,” I gripe.

  He bursts out laughing. I watch him with a bored expression.

  He wipes his eyes. “I’m done,” he says.

  “Good. Because it’s actually a perfect segue about why I’m here. Your lawsuit, the flood victims? You need to hire them the best lawyer you can. Kingdom is pulling out all the stops because they don’t want their other tenants to get any ideas.” I get straight to the point.

  “What? Are you turning traitor on your own company?” he asks and laughs.

  “It’s not my company. But the foundation has exposure. I’m trying to limit it,” I say shortly.

  “You live here. So, you know what my uncle has done. And I’m trying to find a way to work around his stooges on the executive committee. I think they’d be willing to settle. I want to make sure that my first act as chairman is to settle this case,” I level with him.

  He assesses me for a few seconds. “So, you’re telling me you’re not going to be Mr. Same Shit Different Day?”

  “I’m telling you that there is shit I’m not willing to attach my name to,” I say honestly.

  “I’m listening,” he says and leans back, confident that whatever I’m about to tell him, he’s already got a stronger hand than I.

  But he can’t. Not when he doesn’t know all of the cards in play.

  “You need a fucking good lawyer. I saw that Jimenez asshole listed as the attorney of record. He’s going to fuck it up for your clients,” I say.

  “He’s one of the best litigators in the country.” He swats away my comments with the shrug of one shoulder.

  “Are you personally overseeing this matter?”

  “No, but I am watching closely. I’m the one they came to. I just can’t take it on right now,” he says.

  “Well, let me tell you that Jimenez doesn’t give a shit about them. That’s going to matter because he’ll give them terrible advice and tell them to take whatever Kingdom’s offering.”

  “Okay, I don’t have time to launch a search right now, Rivers. But thanks for the advice.” He rolls his eyes.

  “I’m not here to give you advice. I said I have a favor,” I reiterate slowly. “I know a lawyer. The one who won that huge insurance settlement for those people in the delta.”

  “Ohh yeah, I’ve heard of her. Some weird-as-fuck first name, like Contracts or something, right?” he says.

  “Her name is Confidence Ryan, asshole,” I say.

  “You know her?” he asks with an impressed, suggestive smile.

  “Yeah, I know her. She’s my girlfriend. The one you were teasing me about.” I say it and ignore the flashback of her telling me she’d never forgive me.

  “Oh, shit. Regan never said her name. I had no idea. You want me to hire your girlfriend to be the lawyer for a class action lawsuit against your company?”

  “It’s not my company. And I’m trying to save the small piece of it that is mine. So, yeah. I want you to hire her. She’s the best,” I say honestly.

  “You know she’s not just well known because of that case. Her old firm put the word out about her, man. I heard she tried to fucking gank her last boss,” he says with a laugh.

  “You’re wasting my time,” I say dismissively.

  “You’re wasting your own time. I don’t want a PR nightmare on my hands by hiring some chick with a short fuse just cause you’re pussy whipped,” he says.

  I ignore the jab and cut to the chase.

  “Why did you take this case, Remi?” I ask him.

  “Because this is my city. That flood, some of the images I saw, will haunt me for the rest of my life. It’s been a month and we’re seeing stories of families getting back in the homes. But those are the people with good fucking insurance and savings. And Wilde Law is no different from any other Wilde World enterprise. We serve the Houstonians that a lot of people have forgotten about. Not because we’re bleeding hearts, but because we’re them. The underdogs. My grandfather was the son of Irish immigrants, my mother the daughter of Jamaicans who sailed on the Windrush to the UK. They’ve had to overcome more than you can imagine to get to where they are. And Houston made all of that possible. The people who shop in our stores, the people who eat at our restaurants and buy gas from our stations. So, I took the case because I want to do something good for my people.” His voice brims with passion and
I know I made the right decision coming here today.

  “Then hire Confidence. She’s the best. That gossip about her is bullshit. You don’t know me well, but if you think I’d let a woman who was less than fucking incredible near my family or me, you’re crazy,” I tell him.

  He eyes me with an enigmatic expression and then says, “Where is she?”

  “Arkansas. “

  “Your girl is in Arkansas? Why?” he asks with an annoying chuckle.

  “She lives there,” I say defensively. He raises an I smell BS eyebrow.

  “And I fucked up when she was here and she’s not talking to me,” I say and take a big gulp of coffee.

  His chuckle turns into a guffaw.

  I glower at him.

  “Sorry, man,” he says and doesn’t sound sorry at all.

  “Interview her. With hurricane season in Houston being an annual event, you’ll never be short of work, and she’ll draw clients for you,” I say.

  “And I could get her here for you, so you could try to win her back without going to Arkansas?”

  “Yes. And I went to Arkansas. Two weeks ago. She pulled her shotgun out and trained it on me. I didn’t get close enough to talk to her.”

  He bursts into raucous laughter and claps his hands together.

  “Oh, shit. Does she have a sister?” he asks.

  “No,” I say, unamused.

  “So, do you want me to tell her you asked me to interview her?”

  “No. She won’t take the job if you tell her that. And I don’t want you to hire her unless you think she’s the best person for the job.”

  “I’m too addicted to winning to hire losers. If I hire her, it’s because I know she’s going to deliver the best thing possible for the clients. And Barry is a shit. It would be nice to have someone more invested leading the case. So, yeah. I’ll call her. Get her down here. But we’ll have to disclose your relationship to the clients because they should know. “

  “She’s not talking to me. Nothing to disclose,” I say.

  “If she wants this job, she’ll have to get over that and also talk to and about you in a professional manner. No domestic drama at the office,” he says.

  “Let me just tell you. When you meet her, you’ll think she’s the prettiest thing you’ve ever seen. And that’s just the tip of the iceberg.” I say.

  He scoffs.

  “You’ll see when you meet her. Just remember that you will have to end my life to get anywhere near her.”

  He does that annoying whistle of his. “Damn. It’s like that?” he grimaces in sympathy. “Look, if that’s your girl … you better get in there quick. Nothing more dangerous than a good woman experiencing the world without the aftertaste of whatever bullshit you made her put up with … if she gets too much of that … she’ll never take you back,” he taunts, but I detect the whiff of experience in his advice.

  The idea of her getting over me makes me feel like I’m having an out-of-body experience. I can’t let that happen. And yet, what does it say about how I’ve treated her if she prefers her world without me in it? I mean, she’s not exactly a constant bundle of fun, but I can’t imagine life without her. The thought of it makes me howl crazy at the moon.

  “If she takes the interview, I’ll let you know. But if you asked me not to say anything, then don’t go telling her yourself. I’m not trying to have her hating me because she thinks I was trying to pull your chain and used her to do it.”

  “She’s too smart for that. She knows I would never do anything like that.”

  “If you say so, but if that shit hits the fan …”

  “It won’t. I won’t let it. I promise.”

  He eyes me.

  “So, since I have no clue what the feud is about—and my grandfather’s health has failed so badly that he can’t even tell me—I think it’s time we ended it,” he says.

  “Just like that?” I ask, but my respect for him doubles. I like how direct he is. And I like that he’s not interested in a grudge for the sake of it.

  “Agreed,” I say.

  “I’m glad you’re back. That family of yours needs new blood. Your uncle’s a cold motherfucker. I was a kid when you were, so I don’t remember much about your dad’s time, but from what I understand, it was nothing like this.” He shakes his head, and I’m embarrassed that I can’t say more than a noncommittal, “I know. I’ve got a lot to dig out of and no power; at least, not from the company. I’m just a figurehead. But I have money and discretion on how it’s spent,” I say.

  “That’s all the power you need. Where are your brothers?” His pivot is unexpected, but I don’t mind. I’ve said everything I came to. Accomplished everything I needed to. So, I give him the rundown.

  “Dare is raising hell in LA. Stone is saving lives in Medellin and Beau is probably high, sitting naked in a Mexican dessert playing his guitar to the moon,” I say.

  He laughs.

  “What about your siblings?” I ask.

  “They’re in Houston. Working for Wilde World. Except for Regan. Tyson manages operations for the grocery stores. We’re all grinding. My mother is between here and her place in Montego Bay. We’re good. My grandfather’s still holding on,” he replies. “So, Italy? With your aunt? How was that?”

  “It was good. I learned Italian. No pasta eating on a beach, but Positano is beautiful and she was devoted to me and making sure I would be ready to come back. Even though, it turns out, there wasn’t much to come back to.

  “Well, make it count, kid. And I’ll call your girl.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Twist

  Confidence

  “This is incredible,” I say giddily to the very handsome, very charming man walking beside me. “What you described has me salivating. It’s the case of a lifetime. There are so many questions with conflicting federal rulings. This could go to the Supreme Court,” I say and then bite my tongue.

  “Yeah, if it doesn’t settle, it has that potential,” Remington agrees.

  “I shouldn’t sound so happy at the sound of prolonged litigation, should I?” I ask him sheepishly.

  “You wouldn’t be worth the paper that Doctor of Jurisprudence is scrawled on if you weren’t, counselor.” He winks one of his twinkly, wide, lushly-lashed, Milky Way dark eyes at me and I nearly trip over my feet. He smiles as if to say, yeah, I get that all the time. I bet he does. He told me his mother is Jamaican and his father is a second-generation Irish American. Well, Jamaica and Ireland should find a way to merge because their citizens clearly were born to procreate with each other. He is the definition of a heartthrob. He even smells good.

  We step out onto the main street of Rivers Wilde, and I can’t believe all of this is happening. “I didn’t expect to be leaving here with a signed contract. I thought we’d have several interviews,” I say.

  “Well, I didn’t want to let you leave here without a guarantee that you’d come back. You’re everything these plaintiffs need, and I’m just glad you’re in a position to start so quickly,” he says, like I’m doing him a favor.

  “Being unemployed for nine months finally pays off,” I joke but make sure he hears the genuine gratitude in my voice.

  The day he called had been a bad day. I’d gotten another letter of rejection from a firm in Nashville, and I was down to no more than a couple of months’ living expenses. I needed a shoulder to cry on, and the only one I wanted was attached to the biggest asshole in the world.

  I was on the verge of calling him to yell at him—again—when I got Remington’s email. It was my first interview in months. The first application that had even garnered an email exchange. When they asked me to come to Houston for an in-face interview, I had fallen on my knees in my room and cried grateful tears.

  And as mad as I was at Hayes, I couldn’t pretend that all of my relief was due to the chance at this amazing great job. Some of it was that fate intervened to save me from my stubborn pride.

  My heart had been blown to smithere
ens since I left his house that night.

  I grieved in silence. I pretended I was okay. I hadn’t been able to tell my mother what happened because I knew that she’d never forgive Hayes.

  The thought of that knotted my stomach almost as much as what he did.

  I want to forgive him. So badly.

  I end every night with a prayer for the grace to let go of my anger. But it eludes me. And as much as I miss him, I can’t forget what he’d said about me.

  I’ve spent the last month licking my wounds and clutching my pillow.

  Every night it smelled less and less like Hayes.

  And the chasm between us grew wider and wider.

  Except for in one way, the way we always manage to find each other. And some nights, sleep has come only after I’ve called him, used his voice and my hands to make myself come and told him to fuck off before I hang up in his face. I’m still so hurt by him. Still so angry.

  But, I do miss him.

  Fiercely.

  I just don’t know how to get over “fine to fuck, not enough breeding to bring home.” Every time I think about it, it burns.

  “So, what do you think of our cosmopolitan suburban version of small-town America?” Remington asks. I stare back at him and smile, grateful my staring off into the distance looked like me admiring the scene instead of me daydreaming about my boyfriend.

  I let my eyes sweep the street and smile.

  “It’s incredible,” I say simply and honestly. The enclave of Rivers Wilde, carved out of three square miles in southwest Houston is the kind of place I used to dream about living when I was a kid.

  We’re walking across one of a dozen foot bridges that straddle the man-made shallow fountain that cuts a straight line through the community. The left northwest corner is a commercial district. It’s a miniature of downtown Houston. Skyscrapers and shorter commercial buildings make up the ten blocks dedicated to the Wilde World Office Park.

  On the other side of the bridge from where we are now, is the town square. It is the very center of the enclave. It’s flanked by two residential communities. On the left is The Ivy. It’s a golf course, country club, and a cluster of luxury condominiums in a cluster of sky-scraping high rises.