The Terms Duet

by Rowe, Ruby

  Grabbing my hands, he squeezes them between his.

  “That’s bullshit.”

  “Are you saying your family would accept me?” His eyes avert to the floor. “That’s what I thought.” Pulling my hands free, I use my fingers to lift his mouth into a smile. “Now, stop frowning and help me get the snacks.”

  “You’re a class act, Sasha. Far better than the bitches I’ve been subjected to all my life.”

  Ellis

  “Ellis, what a pleasant surprise,” Uncle Rich says in his Texas accent after opening the door of his home. His ranch in Evergreen sits on a sprawling 450 acres.

  He met my aunt Mary Ann while in Texas on business, and once they married, he began working for her father’s oil company. He could never call Texas home, though, and it’s why he has the ranch here, where Lawrence and Greyson were raised.

  “Hi, Uncle Rich. Do you have time to discuss something with me?”

  “I do, but for you, I’d make time regardless. It’s a nice day out. What do you say we sit on the patio?”

  “Sounds good.” I follow him through the house and out the back door. For as far as you can see, it’s pasture and fencing. The day’s a little warm for jeans and a button-up shirt, so I roll up my sleeves after I take a seat at the table.

  “You never drop in on a weekday like this. Is something wrong?”

  “Maybe. It’s about Greyson.”

  As Rich sit’s up straighter, I eye his wide silver belt buckle. His forehead wrinkles, and he rubs his thumb and finger together nervously.

  “Please tell me he’s not back on drugs.”

  “No, he’s not.”

  “Oh, what a relief. He’s not been himself lately.”

  “I agree, and I believe it’s because of his relationship with Whitney Peterson, or lack thereof.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Uncle Rich, you must know he has no desire to marry her.”

  Looking out over the fields, he taps his fingers on the arm of his chair.

  “I’m aware, but sometimes we have to do things that benefit our family. This union is about something much greater than any of us individually.”

  “From the research I’ve done, Gant-Peterson is doing fine without Greyson’s help. You already have Lawrence on board.”

  “I need Greyson because his grandfather said so before his death. It was his dying wish that Greyson marry the Peterson girl.”

  “I mean no disrespect, Uncle Rich, but I believe your son’s happiness should come before Mr. Gant’s wishes.”

  “Ellis, there’s more to it than that.”

  “Then explain it to me. I’ve been watching Greyson change for some time now. He’s headed backward, and the last thing anyone wants is for him to turn to drugs again.”

  Pulling a lighter and cigar from his shirt pocket, he cuts off the end and lights it. The smoke from it floats up to the umbrella that’s shading us from the hot sun.

  “I’ll tell you, but it stays between us. Maybe you can help me get my son hitched.” Inhaling the cigar, he blows out the smoke again.

  “Greyson believes all his grandfather’s wealth was passed on to his mother and me, but there are two trusts from his estate that were not contained in the will. Greyson doesn’t know about them. One is for him, and the other is for me, and they are each worth seventy-five million.”

  “Each?” I ask.

  “Yep, and the only way we get them is if he’s married to Whitney at the age of thirty-five. At that time, the money will be disbursed to us.”

  “So, you don’t get your share, either, if he doesn’t marry her?”

  “Bingo.”

  “Damn. Why would Mr. Gant do that?”

  “He was old-fashioned, and he lived and breathed oil. I’m not his flesh and blood, but the boys are. He wanted to ensure they carry on the business after we’re both gone.”

  “I don’t understand why you’ve kept this from Greyson.”

  “Lawrence received his trust with no stipulations at the time of Orson’s death since he was already working with us. We’ve been keeping that information from Greyson.

  “I mean, how would you feel if you found out your grandfather left you and Tony money, but the only way you received yours was if you married the woman he chose? Not too fair if you ask me, but that was Orson Gant.”

  While processing the unbelievable news, I stare out at the pasture again and the specks of color from the cattle in the distance.

  “With that much money at stake for the both of you, I’m surprised you haven’t told Greyson.”

  “Mary Ann won’t let me. She’s all about feelings, so she thinks it would devastate Greyson to know Lawrence got an inheritance free and clear. I think Orson did it to get back at Greyson for not coming to work for us like his brother did.”

  “He might think his freedom is worth seventy-five million.”

  “That’s what I’m afraid of. Whitney’s been pressing him hard, but it’s not working.”

  “She knows about the money?”

  “Her father told her. We knew the dollar signs would pressure her to seal the deal. Our hope has always been that if they marry, Greyson may decide to join the company, too.”

  “That’s definitely not going to happen. He’s built a successful business on his own.”

  “Are you seeing the pickle I’m in?”

  “Yeah, and I’m seeing the one I’m in now. You have to tell him. I can’t keep a secret like this from him.”

  “Whitney said he’s putting a ring on her finger this week. We’ll rush the wedding along, and then when he’s thirty-five, he’ll get the trust. We’ll make him think Lawrence got his inheritance then, too, and the secret will be dead and buried.”

  “No, you have to tell him or I will.”

  “I thought you’d understand, considering the amount of money on the table. I was hoping you would nudge him to hurry this wedding up.”

  Standing from my chair, I shove it under the table.

  “Then I guess you don’t know me as well as you thought you did, and I see you’re not the man I thought you were, either. Goodbye, Ron.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  Greyson

  “I can’t believe you wanted to do this in a damn grocery store parking lot,” Whitney snaps as she sits down in my vehicle.

  In one second of hearing her annoying, pissy voice, my ears feel hot, and my vision clouds. I also imagine myself doing forty to life behind bars.

  Shifting to face me better, she tosses her hair back. I notice she’s keeping it longer and blonder these days. I hold out the small bag from the jewelry store.

  “Here’s my leash. I’ll marry you under three conditions.” Rolling her eyes, she swipes the bag from me and looks inside for the ring box.

  “Let’s hear them,” she says rudely.

  “One, I’m not proposing. You can put that ring on your own damn finger. Two, you better never have a man in my bed. Do that shit elsewhere. Three, we’re not having children.”

  “Greyson, you know I’ve always wanted babies.”

  “Not happenin’. I’m not raising kids in a loveless, dysfunctional marriage.”

  Pressing her palms to her face, Whitney bursts into tears. Fucking hell.

  “Do you think I want to be in a loveless marriage any more than you do?” she asks, jerking her hands down to scowl at me.

  “Uh, yeah, seeing how you snatched that bag from me.”

  “I have the same pressure from my family as you do from yours. Probably more so since my father didn’t have a son. He’s counting on me marrying you so that Gant-Peterson Oil stays half Peterson once he’s gone. That requires us having children, Greyson.”

  “How did we get to this place?”

  “We got here from you not accepting the inevitable like I did.”

  Leaning my head back against the seat, I turn it toward her.

  “You love him, don’t you?”

  “Who?”

  “Sebasti
an. I hear the rumors.”

  Shaking her head, she digs for a tissue in her purse.

  “It doesn’t matter how I feel about him.”

  “It should. We could take a stand together. We’ll sit down our parents and tell them we’re not getting married. End of story. Leave us the hell alone.”

  “Daddy has given me everything. I’m not breaking my promise to him.” Wiping the last of her tears, she sits up straight. “OK, so to speed this along, we’re going to have an engagement party at your parents’ ranch in one month. There’s no way I could get a venue that fast.

  “However, I did get us a cancellation for the wedding venue. It’s in October, and I’ll keep you up to date with emails.” Pulling the ring box out, she opens it. “This isn’t my fairytale engagement, but I’m sure the wedding will be spectacular.”

  “Get out of my car, and please get some professional help before the ceremony.”

  “You’re such an asshole. I can’t believe I have to put up with you for the next fifty years.”

  “Oh, please. I’m sure you’ll smother me in my sleep long before then. I can dream, anyway!” I yell as she slams my door. “My fucking life!” I scream before I pound my fist on the steering wheel.

  Sasha

  After Greyson touched me on the couch, we spent several days enjoying each other’s company, but then he began to withdraw again.

  He’s been distant for over a week now. A conversation every couple of days is all we share. There have been no laughs and absolutely no touching.

  I do catch him watching me from the living room or at work. His eyes give away his feelings, but it doesn’t matter if he isn’t acting on them. I guess he wised up and saw the truth, too; we’re from two different planets.

  I’m heating up some dinner when the doorbell startles me. Who could that be? I wipe my hands on a towel and stroll to it. Through the peephole, I see her. Shit, it’s Whitney. I debate on not answering since Greyson’s not home, but the curiosity over what she’s doing here gets the best of me.

  “Hi,” I say once I open the door.

  “Hi, I’m Whitney.”

  “Yes, I remember. How did you get up here?” I peek around her.

  She hugs her hip. “Do you honestly think I wouldn’t have the passcode to my fiancé’s place?”

  My eyes flit to the hand on her curvy hip. The largest, shiniest rock my eyes have ever seen is on her finger. It’s even bigger than the one Ellis gave Camilla.

  “That’s right. We’re engaged, so you need to get the fuck out of his house since it’s pretty much mine, too.”

  Tears come, so I blink several times to hide them.

  “Aww, were you really so naïve to think Greyson would settle for someone like you?”

  Lifting my gaze from the rock on her hand, I glare at her.

  “No, I didn’t think that, but I see he did indeed settle. I’m at peace with Greyson’s decision since unlike you, I want to marry a man who can’t see himself with anyone else.

  “A man who will love me from the moment we say I do until we take our last breaths. I’m holding out for that kind of love. It doesn’t have a price tag on it like that rock on your finger. I hope you love being surrounded by material things since you’re going to be alone in every other way.”

  The elevator doors open, and Greyson charges toward us.

  “Leave now,” he yells at Whitney. “I told you not to come here.” He looks at me with pleading eyes. “Sasha, I’m sorry. I should’ve told you about the engagement. I tried to beat her here when she told me what she was doing.”

  “It’s fine. We had an enlightening discussion. I’ll be in my room packing.” I slam the door in their faces and run to my room. I will not cry–I will not cry. I knew this was the likelier outcome, but I guess I believed he’d have the decency to tell me himself.

  I’m a little surprised when he doesn’t come to my room, but then again, we both know it’s time for me to move on. I stuff my suitcases, but having purchased more clothing, I can’t fit them all inside. Maybe Camilla will get the rest for me.

  I was so happy for her when she showed me her engagement ring, and I couldn’t help but imagine being that in love one day myself.

  Ellis cherishes her and Liam, but I’m not her. She’s special, and like always, I’m the girl who can be used and then tossed aside. It’s nothing new.

  Once I’m packed up, I call an Uber driver for a ride. I drag my suitcases out to the foyer, and Greyson appears.

  “Can we talk?”

  “There’s nothing to say.”

  “There’s so much to say.”

  “The dazzling diamond on your fiancée’s hand pretty much summed it up. I’m giving my two-week notice effective immediately. I would appreciate it if you didn’t speak to me at work.”

  “You have a good job. Don’t quit.”

  “I have a boring job, so I’ll find another. All my belongings wouldn’t fit in my suitcases, so I’ll have Camilla get them later. The keys to the BMW are on the nightstand.”

  “Take the car.”

  “It’s not mine.” He sticks an envelope out in front of me. Spotting the cash in it, I push it away. “That’s not mine, either.”

  “Yes, it is. Ellis gave it to you with the other money. I, uh, I didn’t tell you about it.” His fingers bend and fold the envelope as he stares at it.

  “Why?”

  “Because I worried you’d use it to rent your own place, and I didn’t want you to go. I still don’t want you to go.” He lifts his eyes, and from the tears washing over them, they truly look like the glistening ocean.

  “Says the man who proposed to another woman.”

  “I didn’t ask her.”

  “This is ridiculous. I can’t stay here.” I start toward the door, but Greyson grabs my arm. “Stop!” I snap. “We both know what you’re wishing for … what you hope will gradually happen, but I refuse to let it.

  “If you believe all the affirmations you’ve given me about how special I am and how I’m worthy of greatness, then you’ll tell me to go instead of hoping I’ll stay to become your dirty little secret.”

  Clearing his throat, he lowers his chin to his chest.

  “I’d never ask that of you, and I’m sorry … for everything.”

  “I’m not. I’m grateful for having met you, for the help you’ve given me, and for all that you’ve taught me about myself.” I blink fast to see through my tears. “I only wish you saw your worth, too. I love you, Greyson. Your name will forever be inscribed on my heart.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  Ellis

  “This better be good. I don’t do nightclubs,” I say to Lawson as I sit next to him at a noisy bar.

  “Humor me. I’m keeping an eye on someone here.”

  “I also don’t like explaining to my fiancée why I need to go out at eleven o’clock at night.”

  “Well, congratulations on the engagement,” he says as he slides a glass tumbler across the table. “Drinks are on me.”

  I eye the amber liquid, tempted to numb myself amid a room full of gyrating asshats, but I don’t plan on sticking around.

  Reaching in the inside pocket of his tan blazer, he removes a flash drive and hands it to me.

  “There’s some interesting information on there about your girl’s family.”

  “All right. What about the other stuff we discussed?”

  “Mr. Day is going to be brought in for more questioning over Tony’s death. If you think of a possible motive, let me know.”

  “He wanted this painting my brother owned. Suspicious as to why, I opened the frame, and it was loaded with cash and a key to a beach house in the Caribbean.”

  “Intriguing. Send me the details. As far as the documents you wanted, they’re arriving at your home tomorrow by courier.” He grins. “I didn’t want to bend the pretties. Nice looking ladies you got in your life now.”

  “Please tell me you cleared Camilla’s name.”

 
“Actually, I took it a step further. I hope Clarissa and Sasha Rosenthal don’t mind being dead on paper. No one is ever going to look for them again, and there will be no charges on record if somehow Clarissa is found.”

  I bring my fist to my mouth as the mountainous weight lifts from me.

  “I could fucking kiss you right now.”

  He holds a hand up. “Please don’t. It’d be nice to kill two birds with one stone and pick up a chick while I’m here.”

  “I can’t thank you enough, and if there’s anything you need, you let me know.”

  Camilla

  “Good morning,” I say to Ellis as he trudges into the dining room. He’s still in pajama pants and a t-shirt, and I was beginning to wonder if he was joining us, but I know he was out late dealing with something he claimed was top-secret.

  “Good morning.”

  “Hi, Daddy.” Liam waves, and I giggle once I notice the jelly all over his face.

  “Hi, kiddo. I think it’s time you use your napkin.” Ellis kisses my temple before he takes his seat at the head of the table. “Good morning, Sasha,” he adds.

  “Morning,” she says. At least she spoke. That’s progress from yesterday. Irene brings Ellis his coffee and breakfast.

  “Mr. Burke, a package arrived for you this morning. I placed it on the desk in the library.”

  “Thank you, Irene.” The doorbell rings, and I wonder who it could be.

  “Stay seated. I’ll get it,” she says before she hurries from the room.

  “Is that Dean?” I ask Ellis.

  “No, I cancelled today,” he replies without looking up from his plate. I wrap my hand around his wrist.

  “Is everything OK?”

  “We’ll talk about it after breakfast.” Emma strolls inside the room, and Liam goes into a frenzy trying to get out of his chair.

  “Em!”

  “Hi, buddy, what’s up?”