by Nia Arthurs
“Promise?”
“Yeah.” My heart thuds.
I never break a promise.
Ever.
No matter what, I’ll make sure Mom and I are both there when Ariya falls asleep tonight.
Eleven
Brendon
The call to Dad’s phone goes straight to voicemail.
I thump my hand against the steering wheel when I hear the familiar message ringing in my ear, delivered in that gruff, yet commanding tone that only a man as cold as my father can pull off.
“Sorry, I can’t answer right now…”
The lampposts blur together in one big, hazy ball of light outside my window. Up ahead, the Humes Corp building sticks a middle finger up at the sky.
“… I’m busy. Leave a message and I might get back to you.”
There’s a long beep.
I grit my teeth.
Hang up instead of leaving a voicemail that he might answer.
Focus on getting to HQ in one piece.
By the time I throw the car into a parking spot and hike through the lobby, I’m beyond the point of fury.
Freaking nobody touches Ariya or my mother.
Not even the man who gave me life.
Dad’s security team—or the ‘suits’ as Ariya calls them—are waiting for me when I get off the elevator on the top floor.
That’s a good sign.
I drove to the office on a gut feeling, but the suits’ presence means I’m on the right track.
Dad’s nearby.
I stride ahead, my muscles coiled. Shoes thump. A moment later, the double-doors leading to the office are blocked by a line of guards who stare me down like extras from The Matrix.
One sticks out a hand. I can’t make out his eyes behind the dark glasses, but I can imagine all the things he’s seen, all the secrets he’s keeping locked up behind those lenses.
Dad’s paranoid, which is why he employs an army of goons. When you live life being shady, you spend the rest of it looking over your shoulder, always waiting for someone to dethrone you.
Or stab you in the back the way you stabbed them.
I can’t pretend that the company Dad built is honorable, but I’ve done my best to turn things around. Force the train on the right track. These walls are steeped in shadows, but I brought the light.
Now guards—all dressed in black—line the entire length of the hallway.
Overkill.
But Dad’s never been one for subtlety.
“Get out of my way,” I spit.
“I can’t do that, sir.” Steel glimmers just beneath the politeness of his tone.
I lean back. Skim my gaze over the suit. We’re about the same height, but he’s bulkier. The clean cut of his jacket can’t hide the lawless muscles or the broad shoulders.
It’d be like trying to take down Ollie.
Like ramming my head into a wall.
I know my limits.
Time for a strategy adjustment.
I straighten my shoulders. Crack a smile.
The shades block his eyes, but I catch the downward flick of his lips. He’s trying to figure me out, but I don’t give him the time to.
I rub my chin. Ease closer. “There must be some misunderstanding.” I slap his shoulder. “This is my office.” Another slap. “You have no right to be here.” This one harder than the rest. “Acting like you own the place when you’re just a muscled goon pisses me off.”
His jaw works.
He says nothing.
There’s nothing he can say. I’ve got Humes blood running through my veins. The stench of privilege and power seeps through every pore. I’m not some random guy he can take down in a fight.
I’m the guy.
Hitting me would be like starting a war.
I grab his shoulder and hold on. “When I’m pissed off, I start looking for secrets. The kind nobody should know. The kind that’ll get you in trouble with a lot of people.” I rake my gaze over him. “I’m going to assume you have some things you want to keep quiet.”
He swallows.
“I have a friend who’s very good with computers. One call. That’s all it’ll take to turn your entire world upside down.”
He moves his weight from one side to the next.
Dad chose a buffoon.
“We can’t let you pass,” he says again. With less conviction.
“I understand that. I do.” I draw back. “But let’s not spend the rest of this beautiful night crammed into a jail cell. Hm?” I arch an eyebrow. Stare pointedly at the door. Back to him.
Wait him out.
The suit lasts for all of two seconds. A moment later, he jerks his head to the left. The goons fall back, clearing the hallway and marking a clear path to the door.
I storm past them, my strides lengthening. Both hands press against the gold-overlay panels in the door. Push. Hear the lock release. Feel the rush of wind as it swings in.
My chin lifts a notch. I take a second to prepare myself and then head inside.
The lights are all off. Floor-to-ceiling windows pull the burning stars hidden in the cityscape into the room. They shed their light all over the white mosaic floor. Wooden bookcases stand elegantly beside faux plants that do little to lend warmth to an office built for decadence.
The outline of shoes on the large mahogany desk catches my eye. I follow the trace of the shoes. Long legs. Trim torso beneath a rumpled white dress shirt, open at the collar. Two buttons undone. Sharp chin. Blue eyes shrouded in darkness.
Dad.
He holds a cup in long, blunt fingers. The light from outside slices through the amber liquid.
Bourbon if I’d have to guess.
A celebratory drink.
“You found me,” he says, his voice low and taunting.
“Where’s Mom?”
He moves his legs off the desk. Slides a second cup toward me. The amber liquid sloshes in the glass. The ice cubes have dissolved to tiny little seeds. “Have a drink, son. It’s been a while since I’ve seen you.”
“Cut the bull.”
He rises. Light filters through his silver and black hair. I got my height from my father. He’s an imposing man without opening his mouth. When I was a kid, I used to be in awe of him. Wanted to be just like him.
What an idiot.
I didn’t know what I was asking for.
“Don’t look at me like that.” Dad’s voice is gravelly. He takes another sip of his drink. “You’ll make me feel bad.”
I snort. As if he’s capable of guilt. “You kidnapped your wife… in front of your daughter. It’s been an eventful night.”
“Ariya’s a tough kid. She’ll get over it.”
“And Mom?”
“Is having some much needed R&R. Any other questions?”
“Where?”
“Let’s talk first.” He gestures to the couch.
I don’t move. “If this is about Ariya…”
He laughs. “If you think you can handle that little troublemaker, you’re welcome to. Lord knows, I’ve done my best to make her worthy of the Humes name, but…” Broad shoulders shrug. Big hands lift the drink to his lips. “I should have gotten an African baby like I’d wanted.” He shakes his head. Glances to the left. “Your mother insisted we adopt an American, but a little African kid would have been more grateful, don’t you think?”
My eyes twitch. “What. Do. You. Want?”
“Let’s start with a conversation.” He jerks his chin to the wingback chair settled in front of the desk.
I drag my foot over to the sofa and sit.
Dad takes the opposite chair. Holds his hand over the arm. Smiles as he glances around. Probably thinking about all the money he made and all the women he pounded in here over the years.
He leans back. “I see you haven’t done much to make the place your own.”
“I have an office like everyone else. Only use this for official meetings.”
Dad shakes his head. “See? That right
there is why you’re having a problem keeping a handle on your underlings. The boss should be in the big chair.” He points to the throne-on-wheels behind the desk. “You’ve got to command respect.”
“If I need advice, I’ll ask.”
“You won’t.” He eyes me. “You’re stubborn. Got that from my side of the family.”
“I got impatience from Mom’s side. Get to the point.”
He sets his cup down, grabs a folder from the desk and hands it over. “You’ll get a call tomorrow. Agree to all their terms.”
Holding the contract up to the light, I skim the contents. “Dad, this is a monopoly merger. It’s illegal.”
“Not unless you’re caught.”
My face darkens. “Your days of running this company are over.”
“My tactics work. Don’t fight me on this.”
“I’m doing things my way. No black hats. No under the table deals.”
“So idealistic. Just like your mother.” He grins. “Doing things by the books?” Laughter rings through the quiet room. “Fool. You’ll drive my company into the ground.”
“You don’t know that. We doubled the stock prices even after you ruined our company image.”
“People nowadays just need something to complain about.” He waves away my words with a casual flick of his fingers. “This Me-Too movement will be over just like all the other fads.”
I stiffen, but I’m not here to fight with my father over his past indiscretions. “Where’s Mom?”
“We’re not finished talking yet.”
“If you harm her—”
“Yeah. Yeah. I’ll pretend I heard all your threats. See?” He claps twice. “I acknowledge your bravado. I’m shaking in my boots. Now, let’s skip to the point. This problem is very simple to solve.” He leans forward. The chair creaks with the movement. “Sign the contract, Brendon. Let’s both get what we want.”
I scoff. “So this is how you built an empire. Rigging the odds in your favor.”
“Even cheating requires skill.” He tilts his head. “Things wouldn’t have gone so far if you hadn’t made it your mission to cut off treasured business acquaintances.”
“You mean criminals.”
“Esteemed men with checkered pasts. We’ve all got our flaws. Now, let’s get on with it. Your mother was very… distraught earlier. The sooner you can see her to calm her down, the better.”
The threat rings loud and clear.
I suck in a deep breath. Stare at the piece of paper that’ll undo every change I’ve struggled to implement this year.
It stings my pride to give in.
Damn. It’s like swallowing a bitter pill.
But I think of Mom and my promise to Ariya. I really don’t have a choice.
Dad hands over a pen with a victorious smirk. I snap it out of his hands and scribble my signature on the line. Every slant of ink on the crisp white paper burns.
Not because of the danger this deal will bring to the company or to my reputation.
Because he won.
And we both know it.
Dad grabs the contract and rises. He stares at me while I glare in the opposite direction. “This crusade to right my wrongs and live with a conscience will only lead to disaster. Stop fighting your instincts, Brendon. You’re a Humes. Don’t degrade yourself when you’re capable of so much more.”
“I already told you”—I rise slowly. Stare him down with all the hate storming through my eyes—“I don’t need your advice. Now, where’s Mom?”
He laughs. Cups my cheek. Pinches tightly. “You’re so cute.”
I thrust my chin aside to get his hand off.
Dad moves languidly to the door. Raps his knuckles against it three times.
A suit opens the door for him.
Mounting anger and panic thread through my veins. “Where the hell is she?”
Dad glances over his shoulder and winks.
A heated realization slithers around my neck.
“Dad!” I yell.
He slips outside without a word.
I’ve been played.
A shout works its way from my throat. I launch forward. Throw myself at him. Feet thump. Shiny black shoes against white tiles. Dad’s suits bar my way, cutting off the path between us.
“We had a deal!” I yell over their shoulders. My voice echoes against the wall like a hollow war cry. “Dad!”
He throws a wave over his shoulder. Enters the elevator.
When he turns around, a grin plays with the corners of his mouth. He salutes me with the rolled up contract. “This is why you won’t succeed on your own, Brendon. You’re too damn trusting.”
I go wild.
An elbow to the suit at my left.
A punch thrown into a pair of sunglasses.
I buck like an animal.
There are too many of them.
They’re not fighting back—can’t bruise the face of the company—but they’re not moving either. Thick arms wind around my torso, my wrists. Human restraints.
The elevator door closes.
It dings.
Disappears.
The numbers blink red, weaving a story of Dad’s escape. Of his victory. Of my failure.
The elevator hits the parking garage level.
I imagine Dad stepping out, smiling as he saunters to his black SUV. As he drives away, somewhere I won’t be able to find him.
A minute passes.
One by one, the suits draw aside and wordlessly file out of the hallway.
I stand there, my shoulders hunched. My head screaming bloody murder. My chest throbbing with bitterness.
And the one freaking thing that burns the most?
I can’t keep my promise to Ariya.
Neither Mom or I will be there to tuck her in tonight.
Twelve
Kayla
It’s been a long night.
I spent hours appeasing one of my clients after a ‘disastrous’ first date. Then I came home to a flooded apartment. My entire living room—my couch, my television, and my paintings—everything got soaked.
After hours of backbreaking work, the building manager showed up and advised me to evacuate for the day while they fix the pipes.
I’m temporarily homeless and insanely exhausted.
All I need is a couch to crash in for a while, but even that seems like an impossible task while I’m running on fumes. I use the last of my energy to dial up Venus’s number.
It rings and rings.
She’s not picking up.
I don’t know who to call next.
My parents live too far away.
Zania’s out of the country.
I’m not exactly Miss Sunshine, so my friend pool is laughably small.
If I wasn’t so cheap, I’d buy a room at a hotel, but I don’t see the need to waste all that cash.
Maybe I’ll just curl up on a bus bench for a few hours.
Or maybe not.
This is just pathetic.
In a last ditch effort, I call Chandra. I was maid-of-honor in her place. Might as well cash in that favor in exchange for a pillow and a spot on her couch.
“Of course you can come over,” Chandra says when I explain my crappy situation. “This seems to be the day for it.”
I’m too tired to try and puzzle through what she means, but I find out soon enough when I lug my overnight duffel bag through Chandra and Ollie’s front door.
A pretty little girl is sitting in front of the TV, her eyes glued to the screen. She’s got long black hair that’s slightly frizzing. Silky, pink pajamas cover her coffee-colored skin.
“Um…” I whisper to Chandra, “who’s that?”
“Your couch-mate.”
I arch an eyebrow.
“Ariya,” Chandra calls the girl, “pause that show and come introduce yourself.”
“Ariya?” My eyes widen.
That name sounds familiar.
Ariya primly raises the remote and glides over to us. She
strides with her head held high and her shoulders straight back. I feel like dropping into a curtsy, but I hold steady before giving into the impulse.
“This is Kayla.” Chandra wraps an arm around my shoulder. “She’s a friend of mine.”
“It’s nice to meet you,” Ariya says crisply.
I share a quick look with Chandra.
She arches an eyebrow. Girl, I know.
I ask the question burning on my tongue. “Is she Brendon’s sister?”
The names match up, but I was expecting someone… paler. A lot paler.
“You know my big brother?” Ariya tilts her head. Thick eyelashes fan up and down. Her lips purse.
Guess that confirms it.
Questions pop rapid-fire in my brain.
Despite his dark hair, Brendon’s white as snow. Ariya’s skin is a rich brown. I don’t know what race his parents are, but somebody’s adopted.
Not that it’s any of my business.
“Of course she knows Brendon. She was his date at the wedding,” Chandra says proudly.
“I wasn’t his date. We just happened to walk down the aisle together.” I realize how that sounds and clear my throat. “I mean, I had to step in at the last minute and he was the best man and… never mind.” I look Ariya up and down. This time, I speak directly to her. “What are you doing here?”
“I can ask you the same thing.” Ariya folds her arms over her chest. The head-roll is a perfect blend of black-attitude and white-girl snobbery.
She’s a walking nature-versus-nurture dissertation.
Chandra chuckles. “Brendon asked me to watch her while he’s tending to a family emergency.”
“Is something wrong?”
“Yes, but we’re not discussing it.” Ariya sighs. Turns to Chandra. “Has Brendon called yet?”
“Um… no.”
She shakes her head. “Can I finish my show now?”
“Of course.”
Ariya flounces away, her hair bouncing against her back as she moves.
My exhaustion a forgotten memory, I hit Chandra with a questioning look.
She points down the hallway. Let’s talk in the back.
I slide the strap of my bag off my shoulder and shove it out of the way.
Chandra clears her throat. “Ariya, Kayla and I will be in my room for a bit. If you need anything, just holler.”
