#####
Cohen
I stand back, lost in the crowd of mourners, doing my best to blend in. Another chap in a dark suit here to pay his respects. Not sure what I hope to accomplish by coming here today other than maybe a chance to see the person responsible for ruining my life. Or should I say people?
One of those people I grew up blaming is now lying in the cold earth, and after hearing all the amazing things people had to say about what a wonderful woman she was, I can’t help but wonder if I’ve been given the entire story. I might never know the truth now.
When my London contact sent me the link to the obituary, my first thought was it couldn’t be right… James’ wife wasn’t old. But I guess cancer doesn’t discriminate, and there it was right there on my screen, a photo of Wendy Darling Black, a list of the wonderful things she did, the life she lived, including starting Everlend, a country estate that she transformed into a home for the lost children of London. I was so torn between what I was supposed to feel and what I was reading, until my eyes found the words my heart was looking for… survived by husband, James Black.
Seeing his name there, set off a trigger in me. I knew I needed answers. So I made up my mind to go to London.
It’s no secret I had planned my revenge on him for years, dreamed of his downfall, but I never wanted his demise to be at the expense of someone else’s life.
I adjust my position until I can see him from where I’m standing. James Black. He can’t see me, but now I can see him, as he glares at a group across the grave from him. One in particular, I’m assuming is the Piers Andrew Nichols, son of Peter Nichols—James’ most hated enemy. I know all about Piers.
I know about how he grew up living in what was practically a castle. How he fell in love there and was kicked out. About the career he’s built and the life he has. I know he recently took over James’ company, seeking his own revenge—just another thing he took from me that wasn’t his to take.
I move up in the crowd to get a closer look, noticing a striking blonde flanked by Piers and another gentlemen that I don’t recognize. The blonde lifts her head at that exact moment, and blue-violet eyes filled with tears meet mine. She’s looking at me, but not seeing me. The emptiness is something I recognize. Looking away, I shift back into the crowd. I don’t know why I stay, but I do.
I keep my head down and listen to the countless tales of the children that she saved from the streets of London, a surrogate mother to so many. And their version of the story is seems like she was the hero, not the villain. Even more than a hero, it sounds like she was a saint. But even saints have a past.
I’m not heartless enough not to feel sad for the loss of her life, but being here only brings confusion, and I decide it’s best to go as the crowd begins to thin out
The service concludes with a song and a verbal invitation is extended upon the crowd for a wake meal at the estate. I doubt that invitation is extended to the likes of me, though. It would be a great chance to see the infamous Everlend estate up close, but I need a few days to get settled and formulate a plan. I’ve waited years for my chance to confront James, I’m not about to rush it.
I need to spend time gathering information and finding out everything I can about him and those closest to him, starting with the attorney handling the estate. With Wendy gone, it’ll be time for James to name a new heir and put his own plan in place—a plan I vow to make myself a part of.
As the crowd parts, I see him. His head is down as he walks, and I notice his black hair is peppered with a distinguished dusting of gray. As if he can sense me watching, he looks up, and our eyes lock. I shouldn’t have stayed so long, but what’s done is done.
Lifting my chin, I smile and hold his gaze, challenging him as he squints in confusion, studying me.
Realization dawns, but is quickly replaced with shock. Then his eyes gloss over and roll back in his head. Panic and confusion ensue, and someone screams as James falls to the ground.
I should use the distraction to make my escape, but I’m frozen in place. Seeing James laying on the ground doesn’t bring satisfaction or even relief.
I feel something, but it’s an emotion I’m not entirely familiar with. Not quite sadness, maybe a little disappointment. I pray it’s nothing serious as I turn away to leave.
Because you can’t get revenge on a dead man.
Chapter Two
Scarlett
In the days and weeks that follow the service, a dark cloud hangs over us all. Apparently, right after we left, James collapsed. The doctors are calling it a stroke, but no one knows for sure. Piers isn’t saying anything, but I think he feels some guilt over the timing of the takeover, Wendy’s death, and just…everything combined.
Teddy and I tried to reassure him that he had nothing to do with James falling ill. But he’s not having it. He takes on the weight of the world and no amount of arguing will change that. He’s meeting with Wendy’s attorney today for the reading of the will he was summoned to attend. From what I understand, it will be him, his attorney, James’ attorney, and Wendy’s only living brother, John, who just arrived in town from Egypt, or somewhere like that, where he’s been on a dig the past few years. He’s some world-renowned archeologist or something.
I was curious whether she might show up, but why would she? She didn’t even come to the service. There must be something holding her back, or someone. I’m sure she’s moved on by now. The last time I heard from her was a few months after she took off, leaving Piers heartbroken. I was here to pick up the pieces when she ran away like the pampered princess she was.
But her breaking his heart saved me. I was in an abusive relationship, having learned I had other assets besides my mind—more desired assets. When my so-called boyfriend wanted me to share those assets with his friends, for money, I refused. He beat me up pretty bad. I hid it from the guys for a while. But they figured it out. The night Willow left, Teddy and Piers rescued me from a beating that could have killed me.
I would have gone back the next day, but Piers wound up in jail after a fight with James and we all ended up getting our own place. I realized then he needed me as much as I need him. Finally.
She called one night for Piers, and he was pissed out of his mind. I did what any good friend would do: I told her he moved on and she should do the same. And I guess she has. I hope she has.
It’s a fear I’ve lived with for many years now. One day, Willow would just walk back into our lives like nothing ever happened. I was the one by his side while we busted our asses in university, living on scraps. Wendy helped when she could, but Piers didn’t want her caught up in the middle between he and James. We had rough times, we fought, but we always had each other.
I went my own way for a while when Piers began to excel at business. I began to fill out and gain the attention of some prominent men, and it was clear he was still hung up on Willow. I fell back in with the wrong crowd and learned to perfect my manipulation skills. Turns out, the apple doesn’t fall too far from the tree.
After university, Teddy stayed back to pursue his doctorate in Anthropology, and Piers grew his business. When I couldn’t keep up with my lessons and the social demands of my situation, I dropped out. There were a lot of dark days. Then Piers dragged me from the gutters yet again and showed me there was another way. I was more—had more to offer.
After all this time, we finally have a good thing going, a successful business, and I’m hoping he can see how good we are together. Now that Wendy is gone and there’s no reason for Willow to come back, maybe he’ll finally let go of her ghost and we can admit what we feel for each other.
I sit at my desk tapping my pen, trying to expel some nervous energy as I attempt to focus on making some notes in my diary, but I’m unable to concentrate. Hopefully nothing upsetting happens at the meeting. I need Piers more focused than he’s ever been. We have a huge merger coming up and the timing couldn’t be more awful.
Wanting to keep all active deals in plac
e, we are putting together a package to take to an annual retreat hosted by the company next weekend. I have put countless hours pulling the numbers and preparing to woo old man Anderson, we’re not backing down from his opportunity.
I look forward to the chance to be outside of the city with him, a chance for us to talk away from the office—to close this deal and spend some time relaxing together. Maybe even escape for a quick holiday once it’s all done.
Paris would be nice this time of year, I think to myself as I power up my laptop and check out some hotels as another way to occupy my mind.
Click. Too old.
Click. Too new.
Click. Now, this one is nice! Modern amenities, but old-world charm. It’ll be the perfect place.
Champagne, moonlight walks, rose petals…white sheets.
My mobile rings, startling me from my romantic daydream. Seeing it’s Piers, I quickly swipe to answer.
“Hey! How’d it go?” I ask, breathless, closing my laptop as my cheeks heat in embarrassment.
“I found her!” he yells into the phone. It’s rather muffled, like he’s walking.
“Who? What are you…?” No. No, no, no! I grip my desk for support, thankful to be sitting down.
“Willow. I found her,” he sighs.
“She was there? Today?” I ask in confusion, hoping the panic in my voice isn’t too evident.
“No. She’s living in upstate New York, in the States,” he explains, and I’m momentarily relieved. She’s not here. My fingertips massage the tension in my neck as I force myself to say something. Anything.
Nothing. Silence.
“Scarlett? Are you there? Did you hear me? I found her!” He raises his voice over a loud noise. Car horns maybe?
“Yes, I’m here,” I mumble as he begins to ramble.
“You’re not going to believe this. Wendy made me executor of the will, but I’m to go to Willow and explain it all. We’ve jointly inherited the estate, but there are some ridiculous clauses I have the attorneys working on. She has to come to London and stay to receive her share.” My stomach sinks.
“What?” I ask in shock. “You and Willow? Everlend?”
“Yes! That’s what I’m trying to tell you. After all this time, all the searching,” he whispers.
“What do you mean searching? When did you start looking for her again?” I ask defensively.
“I never stopped,” he confesses, his words widening the cracks in my heart. Oh, Piers.
He keeps talking while I try to remind myself how to breathe.
“She’s in the summer home that belonged to Wendy’s family. It’s in the papers. It’s all there. The deed to the house is registered to Willow Darling, dated nearly six years ago. I can’t believe I never thought to look there before. It’s so close to art school, a family place.” He keeps talking, but I can barely hear him over the whooshing of my heart.
“Piers, slow down. Where are you? What about Anderson?” I selfishly fire off.
“I can barely hear you. Can you hear me?” he yells, and the sound in the background gets louder.
“Piers! Where are you?” I stand and begin pacing.
“I’m at the airport,” he informs me, and just like that, the rug is jerked from beneath me, shattering what’s left of my heart. The broken pieces scatter in jagged little shards.
“I know the timing sucks, I’m sorry, but I have to go, Scarlett. I have to do this. Can you understand? You can handle Anderson. I trust you.” But I don’t trust myself. I need him. “I’ll call soon. I’m boarding the jet now.” He starts to break up, so I hurry and say the only thing that’s right.
“Sure, Piers. I’ll take care of everything. Have a safe trip. Call me when you land.”
What I want to say is, please, Piers, don’t go. Don’t leave me. Don’t choose her!
Don’t chase her ghost when you have someone right here in front of you, someone who didn’t run away, who didn’t leave you.
But I don’t. So, he goes to find her, and I feel more lost than ever.
#####
Cohen
I made a few calls before I found out someone named Barrington was handling the reading of the will. One call to his office yesterday, the breathy receptionist, Miranda, let me know she couldn’t give out that info over the phone. I watched her though the window, and lucky for her, chesty brunettes had always been my type.
I followed her to a pub after work, where she had drinks with her mates. All the males were focused on more attractive women, not into the whole sexy librarian thing, I supposed. But it worked out better for me.
When she was about to leave, I ran into her, pulling my classic “bump and spill,” though careful not to spill too much on her. After she got over the initial shock of the cold lager splattered on her chest, and got cleaned up, we got a booth, became cozy, and ordered another round.
After a few more drinks, and my hands on her sides, she got chatty, and I found out the official reading was earlier that day.
I gave her a kiss, put her in a cab, and sent her home. Then I drove by Scarlett’s and saw she was in for the night. Too bad.
Now, I’m back outside of Barrington’s, counting on Miranda being here today.
Just as I move to step in, my mobile rings.
It’s her.
“Yes,” I answer, looking around, certain she must have eyes in the sky like she’s the mother of freaking dragons.
“Nothing to report?” she breathes into the phone.
“I said I would call when I had news, didn’t I?” I lie.
“James collapsing at the funeral wasn’t news?” She raises her voice.
“I haven’t had time—”
“It’s been over a week!” Her accusation hits the intended mark.
“Fine, but I’ve been busy.”
“Stalking the little blonde whore? Remember to think with the head not in your pants for a change,” she warns, pissing me off. She knows me too well.
“Jealous?” I laugh, just to irritate her. She remains silent.
“How did you hear about James?” I ask, avoiding any more talk of Scarlett or my dick.
“I have eyes and ears in the city still.” She’s the one laughing now. A raspy growl that turns into a hacking cough.
I know better than to ask if she’s okay. We both know she’s not.
“Well, then you know he collapsed. They think it was a mild stroke. He’s not responsive and supposedly being transferred to a facility near the estate. If you could help me nail down a name, that would be great. I’d love to pay him a visit.” I watch as a crowd from inside the attorney’s office leaves for lunch. Perfect timing. Please let Miranda be here.
“Don’t do anything stupid,” she warns.
“I won’t. I’m actually walking into the attorney’s office now.”
“Like they’re just going to hand that kind of information over.” I can hear her rolling her eyes.
“You underestimate me.” I end the call and silence my mobile.
The office appears to be nearly empty—this floor anyway. Then I see Miranda rounding the corner with a cup-o-soup in her hand, looking down as she walks.
“Hey, gorgeous.” I get her attention, and she nearly jumps out of her skin. “Sorry, love. Didn’t mean to give you a fright.” I reach out to steady her.
“What are you doing here? How did you…?” she questions, skeptical.
“You told me last night you worked here,” I offer. She accepts this answer, and I run my hand through my hair. Women love that shit.
“Last night. God, what happened? Did we—was I?” She blushes as she steps behind her desk. “We didn’t do that.” She looks relieved. “Yet,” I add, causing her cheeks to flame a deeper red.
“I actually stopped by thinking you may need these,” I tell her, setting a bottle of aspirin on the counter.
“Uh, thanks. That’s very sweet.” She takes the pills and drops them onto her desk.
“So, this is where you w
ork?” I act interested.
“Yeah. I’m in my final year at university, studying law.” I give her a sideways smile.
“Brains and beauty.” I wink, but she remains silent.
“Is there anything else?” she asks. She innocently sucks on her lip, the spark of interest there, but she’s not going to make the first move.
“Well, is there someplace somewhere more private we could…talk? Like maybe your boss’s office?”
“Ummm, I’m not sure we should. They’ll be back soon.” She twirls her hair around her finger, not entirely oblivious to the art of seduction.
“Look, I’m sure you’re very good at your job, and I can see how serious you take it. I can tell you’re very thorough, but I can be very thorough too.” She walks around the desk and grabs my hand.
“Follow me.” She leads me up a staircase to a heavy wooden door at the end of the hall. Once inside, I press her against the door and waste no time putting my hands in her hair and letting my tongue taste her tan skin under her ear as I click the lock into place.
She moans and falls against me.
Pulling back, I tuck a lock of hair behind her ear, and she nearly purrs into my hand
I don’t dare ask to see the file. I know she’s not some ditsy bimbo. She’s an intelligent woman, and there’s no way in hell she’s letting me see that file, purring or not.
Picking her up, I carry her over to the desk and set her on top.
I make busy work of caressing her thighs while she unbuttons my shirt and places sloppy kisses to my chest. I look around on the desk, and there it is, right on top. Bingo.
Speeding things along, I tease my fingers up the hem of her skirt. A few quick swipes lets me know she’s not been touched in a while.
She reaches for my trousers. “Here. Let me.”
“Shhh, love. Ladies first. This is all about you. Any man who tells you different is a douche.” I hope she remembers that.
I continue my heavy petting with one hand while feeling her up with the other, and she quickly finds release.
She muffles her gasp as she leans into my shirt and holds onto me.
Never Say Never (Written in the Stars Book 2) Page 2
