Enchant Me

by J. Kenner

  “To me as well,” Damien says when I tell him as much. I pull my knees up and hug them. “I really thought you’d gotten through to him.”

  “I thought I had, too.” He frowns, clearly considering something.

  “What?”

  “He said Jeremiah hadn’t been in contact, but this has my father’s scent all over it.”

  “You think he lied?” The cat jumps back up onto the bed, and I stroke her fur, the sweetness of her purr counteracting the harsh reality that’s begun to fill the room.

  “I think Ashton doesn’t trust me. And if my father’s been around since day one….”

  He trails off, and I’m about to ask him to continue when his phone pings with another text.

  He glances down, and I watch as his eyes go wide, this time not with surprise at the message, but with anger.

  I start to ask what it is, but he passes me his phone, and I read it myself. It’s a text from the same number that has been sending the horrible videos. The number we now assume Ashton is using:

  Did you hear my good news?

  Of course, it’s not final yet. If you want to put up the financing—a non-equity position of course—I can publicly retract. Say I misunderstood my daddy. Do whatever I need to do to suggest you’re not the ass you are. Say the word and I’ll send you the wiring instructions.

  “This doesn’t make sense,” I say.

  “I know.” He doesn’t elaborate. Instead, he makes a call. He has the phone on speaker, and I know it’s for my benefit. I hear the ring, then Ryan’s voice.

  “I just got a blackmail text from Ashton Stone,” Damien says. “At least it’s supposedly from him.”

  “You think someone’s pretending to be him?” Ryan asks.

  “It’s a theory.”

  “Well, let me add some more information to the mix,” Ryan says. “I put a team on your father last night. Basic surveillance. Damien, I know Ashton told you he didn’t know the man. But apparently that’s not true. Hang on.”

  A second later, there’s another ping signaling an incoming text. Damien switches to that app, and I climb off the bed so that I can look over his shoulder.

  It’s a time-stamped photo from eleven last night, and it shows Jeremiah Stark and Ashton Stone deep in a conversation.

  “Shit,” Damien says.

  “I know.” Ryan clears his throat. “This is a still from the video. We don’t have any audio, but I can tell you that Stone looks agitated. About what, though, I couldn’t say.”

  “Maybe he looked Jeremiah up after I talked with him,” Damien suggests.

  “Sorry,” Ryan says. “You can’t give him the benefit of the doubt on this one. He lied to you. They’ve known each other for years.”

  “How the hell do you know that?” Damien asks as his hand reaches for mine.

  “Winston and Linda reported in this morning. They were able to get inside his childhood home yesterday evening. They talked to his mother. And they saw a picture of the two of them on her mantle. Jeremiah and Ashton looking pretty damn cozy.”

  As he speaks, another ping hits Damien’s phone. Damien swipes, and the existing picture is replaced by another one. It’s far away, and slightly blurry, but it’s obvious that the men in the picture are Jeremiah and Ashton Stone.

  “Linda was able to take a surreptitious picture. There’s no doubt about it. They know each other.”

  I look at Damien’s face, and I see the sadness there. He thought that he’d made progress with the son he didn’t know he had. But now it seems like we’ve taken a million steps backwards.

  This man’s heart has been poisoned against Damien. And I don’t know if there’s any way to fix that.

  Under the circumstances, I’m surprised that Ashton lets us in to his hotel room so easily. It’s my first time up close with this man, and the moment is surreal. This is Damien’s son, after all.

  As the door closes behind us, Damien walks past me. He passes Ashton the phone with the screen open to the blackmail demand.

  I watch as Ashton’s eyes move as he reads the text. He looks up at Damien. “I didn’t send this,” he says. “But you already know that.”

  “Do I?” Damien’s face is a mask, showing no emotion at all. Even I can’t read it. And I have no idea what Ashton’s talking about. Damien had been silent in the car, and I hadn’t wanted to press as he works through all the pieces of this family drama.

  Ashton scoffs. “If you really thought I’d sent this, you’d release it to the press. Reveal me as a hypocrite.”

  “Would I?”

  “Why wouldn’t you?”

  “Maybe I believe you had a shit childhood, and I’m sorry about that. Maybe I wish I’d known you existed, and I’m sorry about that, too. Maybe that’s something you and I will both have to live with for the rest of our lives.”

  He pauses, drawing a breath. “I know you’re hurt, and I get that. You’re pissed, and I get that, too. You want to know why someone kept you a secret from me, and so do I.”

  He reaches for me, and I take his hand. “But I don’t think you sent that note. On the drive over, I wasn’t completely sure. Now, I think I am.”

  “Think?”

  “When Nikki got pregnant for the first time, we had a talk about how we would raise our kids,” he says, in what seems to be a complete non sequitur. “Ashley didn’t survive to birth, but everything we talked about that day was reiterated when we adopted Lara, then again when Anne and Bradley were born. Your sisters and brother.”

  Ashton is slowly shaking his head, clearly confused by the direction of Damien’s thoughts. “What does that—”

  “We swore we would tell them the truth. Always. We might pull it back to a kid-friendly truth, but we weren’t going to lie to our children. I figure you fall within parameters.”

  “I see.” We’ve been talking in the small entryway. Now, Ashton turns and heads to the sitting area. Damien and I follow.

  “I still don’t understand why you think I didn’t send that text.”

  Damien shrugs, his mouth curving up at the corner. “Call it a father’s intuition. Or maybe I still owe you one more truth. For that matter, maybe you owe me one.”

  Ashton stares at him for a moment, then starts to chuckle. “I feel like I’m living in an alternate reality. And I can’t believe I’m about to say this, but yeah. I do know Jeremiah. He’s the one who told me you’d snubbed me.”

  Damien nods. “I know.” He opens the phone again, this time showing Ashton the picture of him talking with Jeremiah.

  Ashton groans, and rubs his hands over his mouth and nose. After a moment, he looks between the two of us. “I was telling him what happened. That you’d offered me the trust, so that maybe you weren’t the shit that he thought you were. Maybe you were okay.”

  “And what did say?”

  “He said you played games.”

  “I do,” Damien said. “But not about this.”

  Ashton got up and went to the window, looking out over Century City toward the Pacific Ocean. “Yeah,” Ashton said. “I’m starting to believe you.”

  18

  Damien forced himself not to let his emotions show on his face, but damned if that wasn’t hard. There was such joy in knowing that Ashton had this breakthrough, small as it might be. That the son he hadn’t known he had—the son who had been raised to hate him and distrust him—was no longer looking through the lens that Jeremiah Stark had handed him.

  God, how he hated that man. The father whose blood ran in both his and Ashton’s veins. Jeremiah had poisoned them; he’d poisoned their lives. But somehow, Damien had come out ahead. He’d survived, and he’d thrived. And from what he could see, Ashton was doing the same.

  Jeremiah might have been in Ashton’s life, but with the exception of the poison that Jeremiah had fed him about Damien, Ashton was doing well. And that made him proud. Possibly a ridiculous feeling, considering he’d had nothing to do with Ashton’s upbringing, but he liked to think that wh
atever strength and fortitude were in the man had come from him.

  He was trying to find a way to express all of that to Ashton without sounding too sentimental, when his phone pinged. It was on the coffee table, and he reached for it, then saw that it was a text from Matthew Holt.

  I have information about the Masque video. Give me a call.

  He started to dial, then hesitated, his attention returning to Ashton. “I told you about the other texts we’ve received. The ones I assumed were from you.”

  His son’s face tightened with anger. “Did someone just send another one?”

  “No. It’s from a friend who may have information about a particular video.” He glanced sideways at Nikki, who nodded almost imperceptibly, but he knew she understood and agreed. “I didn’t specifically tell you about one of them. A rather racy video of Nikki and me at a club called Masque. Are you familiar with it?”

  Ashton’s mouth curved into a grin. “Gee, Dad, should you be telling me this kind of thing?”

  Beside him, he heard Nikki laugh, and Damien bit back his own smile.

  “If you’re familiar with the club, you’re probably also familiar with the policies. No cameras, the client list is secret, and privacy is the name of the game.”

  “Of course,” Ashton said. “What happened?”

  “As I told you, we were sent a video. It said some not-so-nice things about me, about Nikki. About how I treated her and other members of my family.”

  “That was supposedly from me?”

  “It wasn’t signed, if that’s what you mean, but under the circumstances, I believe whoever sent it wanted us to think that.”

  “He saw Ashton’s hands tighten around the arms of his chair. “I swear, if I ever find the son of a bitch who’s pretending to be me, I’ll—”

  “Believe me, I understand. I’ll even help you. The fact is, we might have an answer now. I’m friends with Matthew Holt, who owns the club. I asked him to investigate, and he agreed. He’s just sent a text, asking me to call him. I’d like to take the call, and I’d like you to be on the line. Assuming Holt has no objections.”

  “Why?”

  “I told you a few minutes ago. Truth. Whoever took that video was pretending to be you. At least as far as we know. I think you deserve to know why as much as I do.”

  Ashton nodded. “Go ahead.”

  Damien glanced at Nikki, who nodded as well. Then he dialed Holt, who answered on the first ring. “Before you say anything, I want you to know you’re on speaker. And I have Ashton Stone sitting beside me.”

  “A little family bonding moment?” Holt asked, and Damien had to chuckle. “Something like that.”

  “Well, what I have is confidential information. Can you vouch for Ashton?”

  Damien looked his son in the eyes. “I can.”

  “All right, then. I’m bending the club’s rules almost to breaking. Or no, that’s a lie. I’ve bent the rules, turned them into knots, and sliced right through them with a chainsaw. I need your word this won’t get out.”

  “You have mine,” Damien said.

  “And mine, too,” Ashton added.

  “That’s good enough for me,” Holt said. “I started with clients, as I trust my staff. So I went back and looked at the list. As you know, I’m the only one who has access to the list. I thought I’d give it a quick once-over to see if anyone stood out who I knew had a grudge against you. Surprisingly I only found one.”

  “Surprisingly?” Damien asked.

  “What can I say? I thought you’d have more enemies.”

  Ashton laughed, then lifted his hand in a sorry gesture.

  “Who was it?”

  “Carl Rosenfeld. Wasn’t there bad blood about the time you commissioned Nikki’s portrait?”

  “There was.”

  “Well, I think the man may hold a grudge. I looked into his company a bit, and interestingly enough, it recently applied for a patent on a new type of lapel camera. As you know, we have systems that monitor for cameras in the club, but if I’m understanding right, this tiny little thing may just have gotten through.”

  “Looks like I need to pay a visit to Carl. See who he might have shared that video with. He may hate me, but I don’t think he’s the one sending these texts.”

  “Neither do I,” Holt said. “Do you need any more help? I’m not sure what I can do except talk to Rosenfeld myself. He violated my trust, and I will kick him out of the club, but not until you tell me that you’ve spoken with him. I don’t want him to bolt or have any advance notice.”

  “I appreciate that. I’ll keep you posted. And, Matthew,” he added, “I owe you one.”

  He ended the call, then looked at Ashton. His son’s face was a mask of fury. “You’re pissed,” he said.

  “Damn right,” Ashton responded.

  “This isn’t anger on my behalf, and it’s not just irritation that your new business partner is a sleaze. Tell me.”

  A muscle twitched in his cheek as Ashton looked between him and Nikki. Then he drew in a breath, clearly trying to control his anger. “Jeremiah Stark is the one who introduced me to Rosenfeld.”

  Damien leaned back against the sofa seat, then took Nikki’s hand. Her fingers curled around his, giving him comfort. “I can’t say that I’m surprised.”

  “Not surprised? You knew he was at the heart of this all along.”

  “Knew, no. Assumed, yes.”

  “Why? Why would your own father want to keep us apart?”

  “Because he’s a shit of a human being. I told you what he did when I was in Germany. He’s not a good man. Jeremiah Stark is after only one thing, and that’s what’s best for Jeremiah Stark.”

  He watched as Ashton stood and began to pace. “I feel like such an idiot. He’s been around my entire life. I trusted him, and because of that I turned against you. I embarrassed you publicly. Fuck.”

  The last word came out loud and harsh, and he slammed his fist against the wall at the same time.

  “I owe you a lifetime of apologies. That vile snake. I’m so sorry.”

  Damien stood as well, then went to stand behind his son. “You don’t owe me anything,” he said softly.

  Ashton shook his head, his back still to Damien. “I should have straight-out asked you. Instead, I played this goddamn game.”

  “I’ll grant you that. Maybe you should have. But you’d been raised with one version of reality. It’s hard not to see what’s true when you’ve been living in a nightmare.”

  Ashton turned, looking miserable. “You should hate me.”

  “No. I shouldn’t. And I don’t. But if you want to know the truth, I don’t really know you. But,” Damien added, hoping Ashton could hear the truth in his voice. “I very much want to.”

  For a moment Ashton was totally silent. Then he nodded. “Yes,” he said “I want that, too. Goddammit,” he continued as another curse exploded out of him. “So much wasted time. You’ve been here all along, and I never had the chance to get to know you, or Nikki,” he added looking at her. “To get to know your children. Fuck, they’re my sisters and brother. Jeremiah Stark stole all of that from me.”

  “He stole it from all of us,” Nikki said. “Lara, Anne, and Bradley, too.”

  “Fuck this,” Ashton said. “I’m going to go see the son of a bitch.”

  Damien could tell his temper was high. It was practically coming off him in waves. Another way Ashton reminded him of himself, and Damien had to acknowledge that this particular trait was not necessarily a good one.

  “Better to just let it lie,” he said. “At least for now.”

  “Hell, no. He arranged this, him or Carl, and my money is on Jeremiah.”

  Damien’s was, too. Carl wasn’t that clever, but he was willing to live off the spoils of other clever people.

  “He’s been playing me for years. Goddammit, why?”

  “I’ve already told you. He’s a manipulative prick. That cost him a relationship with me. He saw you as a second chanc
e. And a cash cow.”

  “Oh, fuck me,” Ashton said, this time not with anger, but with self-loathing. He let himself fall into the chair again. “Jeremiah’s part of this deal. He introduced me to Carl. Because of that he has an equity interest. Son of a bitch. It’s like he’s been running a lifetime long con on me.”

  “You said at the press conference that the deal hadn’t been finalized yet.”

  “True. And now we won’t be finishing it, and right now all I want to do is drive down to San Diego, find the prick, and throw the voided paperwork in his face.”

  “Better to let your attorney handle it.”

  For a minute, Ashton did nothing. Then he nodded. “Probably. Although it would feel damn good facing both of them at the signing table, then telling them to go fuck themselves.”

  He stood up and started pacing again. “Do you know that he told me that you killed my grandfather on that roof in Germany? And he said that you’d kill me, too. That you were ruthless, and you’d kill me if I ever spoke out against you. Because I was part of your shame.”

  Damien put his hand on Ashton’s shoulder. “What your grandfather did to me and Sofia was horrible. But none of that is on you. Believe me,” Damien said softly, “You were innocent in all of this. Your grandfather fucked me over. He fucked Sophia over. But in some ways, you got the worst of it. They forced you to live a lie. And now it’s time to find your own path.”

  Ashton nodded. “Yeah. It damn well is.”

  “I’m truly sorry about all of this, Ashton. And I’m sorry I didn’t have the chance to know you when you were growing up.”

  “I believe you. And would you do me a favor?”

  “Anything, Damien said.”

  Ashton swallowed, looking a bit nervous. “Would you just call me Ash?” That’s what my friends call me.”

  Damien smiled, feeling light as air. “I’d like that.”

  Ash nodded, then put his hands in his pockets. “What should I call you?”