by M. S. Parker
Glancing up at her, I asked, “How would one go about getting started with that kind of thing?”
I’d caught her off-guard. Puzzled, she asked, “With what? Hosting a dinner?” She smiled at Aleena. “Tell your lovely assistant here how many people and where you want it if you have a specific place in mind. As organized as she is, I'm sure she could take it from there. That’s what Tom does for me.”
“No. Your…um…” I stopped, the words seizing in my throat as awkwardness took root. What if she thought I couldn’t handle it? What if I couldn’t? Son of a bitch. I'd never been this unsure about anything before.
Ignoring the whisper in my head telling me that I couldn't do it, I forced myself to look back at my mother.
“I’ve decided I want to do something about what happened to me. To us,” I amended. “I discussed the idea with Aleena, but neither of us know where to start.” I took a slow breath. “I want to start a charity, a foundation, whatever you call it, but something that will help fight against what was done. What is being done.”
My mother’s eyes widened as she glanced between Aleena and me. Then, a slow smile spread across her face. “So you want to know how you’d get started on establishing a charitable foundation, then.”
“Yeah.”
Again, that strange feeling of nerves washed over me. I didn’t like it. It'd been a long time since I’d had to deal with being uncertain or anxious about much of anything, and I didn’t get it. It didn’t make sense. It was just a different kind of business. Right?
I could at least fake confidence as I smiled at Cecily. “That’s exactly what I want to do. Something that will fight against human trafficking, maybe offer resources to those who don’t have money for rewards. I’m not sure yet how to do this or what all I’d need to focus on.”
“Having somebody from law enforcement on hand wouldn’t be a bad idea,” Jefferson said quietly, his expression serious. “Somebody who's worked human trafficking cases before, kidnapping, that sort of thing. There are…well, certain signs to look for.” He hesitated, and then added, “If I may make a suggestion. One thing that needs to be done and just isn’t get done is public education and awareness.”
Eying him, I nodded slowly. “Yes. That’s exactly the kind of thing I’d like to do. That, and more.”
“I think it’s a wonderful idea.”
The smile on Cecily’s face filled me with a weird sense of pride. I was familiar enough with that emotion—pride. I'd felt pride when a project I’d taken on did well. I'd felt pride when my employees did well.
But this was something different, more personal. More embarrassing too. I realized I was squirming when Aleena leaned over and pressed her lips to my cheek.
“She’s proud of you,” she whispered so softly that nobody but me could hear.
Proud of me.
I wanted to shrug it off, wanted to say something flippant. It didn’t matter if Cecily was proud of me, did it? I was an adult, wanting to do something good for society. It wasn't like I was doing this for her.
Except it did matter. And she was the reason I wanted to do it.
Suddenly, I realized why I’d been so uncomfortable all evening. I’d been worried that Cecily wouldn’t care, worried she’d think it wasn’t a good idea...worried that she think I couldn't do it.
And now I was dealing with the knowledge that she liked the idea and she was proud of me for it.
I was twenty-nine years-old and I’d never experienced a mother’s pride before.
“Sir.”
At the stiff sound of Pierson’s voice, I looked up, although the last thing I wanted to do was break this moment.
The look on my butler’s face was tense. He glanced at my guests and then back at me. “Sir, I apologize but your—”
“Oh, stop apologizing.” The voice was gruff and condescending. “You don’t need to apologize because his father came to see him.”
The sound of the voice coming from behind my butler made my stomach roil.
I didn’t want to see him. I wanted to jump up and get him out of here before Cecily, before Aleena, had to deal with him.
But it was too late.
Solomon Snow, my adopted father, walked into the dining room.
Hands in the pockets of his slacks, he looked around, a black eyebrow arched imperiously, his blue eyes taking in everything and everyone. His gaze lingered on Cecily, and then on Aleena, before moving on to me. I wasn't sure which made me angrier. I stood.
“Dominic, son. It’s good to see you.”
“Yeah?” Curling my lip at him, I said, “That’s not what you said the last time you saw me. When was that, by the way? Five years? Ten?”
I knew exactly how many years it had been. To the day. And now, staring at him, it was pretty clear that enough years hadn’t passed. The man in front of me wasn’t my father. Even if the adoption records said otherwise. At least Jacqueline had tried, had loved me even after...and she still loved me.
This bastard had just walked away.
A muscle in his jaw throbbed, but the easy smile didn’t fall away. “I heard you were up this way and I thought I’d stop by and visit. It really has been too long. It looks like you're wrapping up dinner. Could I maybe join you for drinks?”
“No.” I didn’t bother softening the response.
“Son—”
“Don’t call me that,” I warned him. I was practically vibrating with tension and anger. It was taking a phenomenal effort to keep calm. “You lost that right when you walked away. I want you to leave.”
His gaze flicked back to Cecily. “Let me guess,” he said. One hand left his pocket and he reached up, stroking a finger across one of his neatly groomed eyebrows. “I read about how you reconnected with your birth mother. You’re having a little family reunion. You, Cecily and…”
His gaze moved to Aleena and the predatory intent there had my hand curling into a fist. “Your friend?”
Aleena rested a hand on my arm as she stood. I could almost hear her mental warning to keep my temper.
Slowly, I covered her hand with mine and glared at my...at Solomon, I lifted her hand to my lips and kissed it. Without bothering to answer his question, I said, “I believe I asked you to leave.”
“And I believe I made it clear that we have things we should discuss.” Solomon had a polite, dismissive sneer as he looked at where Aleena and my hands were still joined. “Five minutes. Then you can get back to tugging on your mommy’s apron strings and your…friend’s…”
I took a step towards him. “Watch it,” I warned. Although, I had to be honest. I preferred him being an ass to him pretending like we had any sort of a relationship. “If you insult any of my guests, you’ll end up on your back.”
The threat seemed to amuse him. “How am I insulting anybody?”
It was only Aleena's hand tightening on mine that kept me from hitting him. I looked down at her and she gave me a nod. I didn't need her to say anything. I looked back at Solomon.
“Hall. Now.”
We stepped out into the hallway and he turned to me. I crossed my arms over my chest and waited. There was no way I was going to make the first move here.
“Could we take this into the study?” he asked, gesturing to the room across the hall. The house here in the Hamptons had been my mother’s before she’d sold it to me. We’d come up here often during the summer, though I didn't remember Solomon being here much.
“No.” I planted my hands on my hips, letting my impatience show. “That’s Aleena’s library now.”
I’d started the renovation on the study a few weeks ago. It wasn’t done by any means, but I’d wanted her to have someplace here that she felt was her own. I knew how important a haven was, even though I wanted her to feel at home here with me. We all needed a haven.
Aleena was mine.
“For fuck’s sake, boy!” Solomon snapped.
“I’m not a boy.” Taking one step toward him, I lowered my voice as I leaned in
and growled the words into his face. He was a few inches shorter than me, but to his credit, the old man stood his ground. Not that it mattered. I didn't care what he did. This was going to be said. “Do you hear me? I’m not a boy and after the way you deserted me, you don’t even have the right to call me your son. I don’t owe you shit.”
Something flickered in his eyes. He started to nod, but his gaze strayed past my shoulder. “Cecily, do you mind if I have a few private moments with Dominic?”
I looked back, saw my mother standing in the doorway, her head regally inclined. At least, having grown up with people like him, she knew how to handle this kind of self-important ass.
“My apologies, Solomon,” she said disdainfully. “I wanted to find the restroom. If that meets your approval, of course.”
He flicked a hand at her and I was—again—tempted to hit him.
Just a little.
“Cecily, a moment please,” I said. I looked at Solomon. “You will not be rude to guests while you’re under my roof. I’d suggest you apologize or our five minutes will consist of me throwing you out on your ass.”
He sucked in a breath, his eyes narrowing. “I don’t have shit to apologize for. Hell, Dominic, she’s already using all of this as fodder for her bleeding heart causes. Don’t act like you can’t see her twisting this, milking more money out of people for a bunch of worthless inner-city street brats. It’s pathetic. They whine about how hard life is and they won’t work a day in their lives. All they want is handouts.”
“You son of a bitch,” Cecily said, her face going red. She came striding toward us, pointing her finger at him, her dark eyes flashing. “Those 'inner-city street brats' are worth ten of you.”
I stared at her. This was a side of her I'd never seen before. I'd definitely gotten my temper from her.
Curiosity kept me silent and I slid my hands into my pockets as she moved in a little closer, her voice cutting as she said, “You’re an odd duck to be calling people out over money, Solomon. You were a trust-fund baby yourself, up until your father lost most of the family fortune.”
My eyes widened. Okay, I'd known he wasn't as rich as my mother—Jacqueline, I meant—was, but he'd never acted like he didn't have money.
Solomon tensed, raising a hand and jabbing a finger toward my birth mother. “Watch it,” he said, his voice flat.
“What?” All innocence, Cecily stared at him. “I’m sure everybody understands why you married Jacqueline. It was a good match. You got her money and your family kept quiet about how her father had been stupid enough to trust your father with a cool million...and he lost it all.”
Solomon lunged.
I caught him by the arm without even thinking about it. He came around swinging and I dunked under the blow before landing two of my own. He doubled over, clutching at his gut as he slowly sank to the floor.
I grabbed him by the shirt collar and dragged him back up. He swayed, gasped, his eyes wide and unfocused.
He was going to have a black eye.
Shaking him, I said his name. “Look at me.” His eyes finally focused on my face. “Get out,” I said quietly. “Get the fuck out and don’t ever come back here. If you do, I’ll have you arrested for trespassing.”
I sent him away from me with a shove and if Pierson hadn’t been there to catch him, Solomon Snow would have gone right back down on the floor. The sight wouldn’t have bothered me much, except that I wanted him gone.
I turned to see Cecily staring at me. Then my gaze slid to the doorway behind her where Jefferson and Aleena were standing. I tried to say something, anything. But in the end, I just turned and headed down the hallway.
Behind me, I could hear Aleena talking to them.
That was fine. Just fine.
She could make my excuses and herd them along. I had to be alone.
I didn’t regret hitting Solomon. He wasn’t my father, hadn’t been for a long time, if ever.
But as I’d stood there, listening to him, watching as he sneered at the woman who’d given birth to me, at the woman who’d lost me before she’d even had the chance to hold me, I realized just how much I hated him.
If anything, I regretted not hitting him more than twice.
A few minutes later, I stood at my bedroom window looking down at the driveway. Jefferson stood by Cecily’s car and opened the door. I watched as she slid inside.
Part of me wanted to call her back inside and apologize for what I'd done.
Part of me wanted to ask her something, though. No. Demand. I wanted her to tell me that my birth father was a better man than Solomon Snow.
Based on the little I knew, I wasn’t sure if I was ready for the answer.
4
Aleena
I was going to go blind on this particular project, I knew it.
Or maybe my head was going to explode.
The legal jargon was making my brain hurt, and I looked at the notes I’d made. As the headache pounding at the base of my skull got worse, I grabbed a pen. There was only one way to proceed, really.
We needed to get a lawyer who specialized in this sort of thing to walk me through it. I made a note of that at the top of my list, and then after a moment added, call Tom.
He’d been with Cecily for so long, I imagined he had a good feel for all of this and if nothing else, he’d have a good idea of where to start. It'd be a lot easier if I wasn't trying to make it up as I went along.
The phone rang and I heaved out a sigh of relief when I saw the caller’s name.
“Hi, Fawna.”
“Why do you sound like a drowning woman?”
I’d taken over her position when I came to work for Dominic and while I was mostly doing okay, there were still times when I needed to call her with questions or just advice. Now that I thought about it, it probably wouldn’t hurt to bounce a few ideas about the charity concept off her while I had her on the line.
“Well…” I heaved out a breath. “Let me tell you what I’ve been doing.”
I gave her the short rundown. In the background, I heard the cute little burbles and coos coming from her grandson and the sound of it made me smile. I wanted to see the little guy. I hadn’t been able to get out there in a couple of weeks and I found myself itching to hold him again, to feel the warm, cuddly weight of him and smell that sweet baby smell. He'd been born premature and it had been touch and go for a while, but he was doing much better now.
When I finished explaining the idea Dominic had for the foundation and what I’d been doing, I held my breath and waited.
Fawna’s response was simple. “You need to get with a lawyer before you do anything else. The Winter Corporation does have a philanthropy arm. Just about every large business does. One of the attorneys there can help you get started.”
“Ah…well, yeah. I knew that.” I stuck my tongue out at the phone, rolling my eyes at myself, and I made another note on my list. Track down somebody at WC.
“Uh—huh.” She sounded amused now and I found myself smiling. “So how are you and Dominic?”
I knew without asking that she wasn’t asking about business things now, but personal matters. She'd been there for us when we'd first started figuring things out. In some ways, she was more Dominic's family than anyone else had ever been. I didn't know all of the details, but I did know she'd been his teacher once and she'd been one of the only ones who'd supported him through all of the shit he'd been through.
“We’re good,” I said, smiling. “It’s…a learning process. I guess that's the best way to put it. It’s not like relationships are his number one skill-set.”
“No. They aren’t. He’s got a big heart, but he hides it.” She sighed, sadness coming through. “I’m glad I brought you to him, Aleena. I’ll be honest, I was worried about this when he first told me about the two of you, but it seems to be working out well.”
“It is.”
I wasn’t so sure Dominic would like to know he’d just been described as being a big-hearted
guy, but he was, whether he knew it or not. Somebody who didn’t care wouldn’t have searched so hard for his mother, or decided to invest his money in a foundation to help children. I thought maybe I’d tease him about it later. He didn’t always like it when I teased him. Sometimes it ended up with me over his lap. And I liked that. Either way, it would be a good thing.
“How are things going with Cecily?” Fawna asked.
That was harder to answer.
“Good, I think.”
Rising from the desk, I moved over to the window and stared outside. I was working from home today. I only went into the office with Dominic two days a week now unless there was something going on or he had meetings I needed to attend. I had his personal and business schedules synced down to the nth degree and as long as I kept him organized, things moved along fine.
The match-making agency was already a success from what I could tell, and the new branch he’d opened in Philadelphia just a few weeks ago was beginning to settle down under the new management.
Business-wise, everything was perfect in the land of Dominic Snow.
“And with Jacqueline?”
I had to grit my teeth to keep from saying any of the dozen uncomplimentary things that leaped to my tongue. Jacqueline St. James-Snow was a racist, elitist bitch, but she did love her son. So did I. That was one thing we had in common and because of him, I tried to behave myself. Even when I wanted nothing more than to give her a piece of my mind. Again.
“He isn’t talking to her a lot,” I confessed to Fawna. “He talks to Cecily several times a week, emails her. I think Jacqueline has called him two or three times, but he never talks to her long. This has driven a wedge between them.”
“She probably feels guilty,” Fawna said. “Jacqueline's not a woman who handles guilt well. I imagine she’s tried a hundred ways to shift that guilt to somebody else, but in the end…well, she’s not a fool. She knows Cecily, knows what the woman has done, and all because of the child she thought she lost. It must be a terrible burden.”
