Five Minutes Late: A Billionaire Romance

by Sonora Seldon

  “He didn’t say a word. The rank smell of whatever he’d been drinking for hours poured off him in waves, and his eyes struggled to focus on me – but still he stared down at me as best he could, and he said nothing.

  “I’d been in situations like this many times before, or so I thought. I forced back the panic building in my chest, and I evaluated the possibilities.

  “My father’s death and whatever had been in the will were the overall cause of his anger this time, clearly – so once I figured out exactly what aspect of all that had set him off, I’d be able to make a fair guess as to what to say to bleed off the worst of his anger and lessen the number of blows I’d receive.

  “If that strategy failed me? Then perhaps a shaky fallback position would be to wait until he was out of arm’s reach, bolt back out the door, and find somewhere to hide until he –

  “My heart stuttered as a wavering smile crept onto his face. He smiled like a dead thing, he pulled a jangling set of keys out of his pocket, and he reached past me to lock the door.”

  38. The Falling Boy

  Devon paused, running one finger around the rim of his plate. “The human instinct to survive is a strange little creature, Ashley, one that can’t be stamped out or reasoned with – even though I knew from the moment that lock clicked that I was doomed, my mind ran frantic with ideas for escape.

  “If the door was no longer an option, perhaps I could still talk my way out of what lay ahead. I could bargain, compromise, or maybe simply scream for help, if all rational alternatives failed me.

  “Or perhaps my nerves were getting the better of me, perhaps the situation wasn’t so bad as it looked, perhaps … well, no matter. I knew the truth, even if I couldn’t bear to look at it.

  “My uncle swayed around on one heel and stalked back to his desk, his path wavering a little across the hardwood floor. I’d seen him drunk before, I’d seen all my uncles and many of their wives in assorted stages of drunkenness at one time or another – but this time, Uncle Kennan seemed impaired enough that I could entertain a small, foolish hope that he might not connect too solidly with the blows that were surely coming my way.

  “I told myself he might even satisfy his rage by mere screaming and shouting and cursing this time – you see, that little creature inside of us that demands to survive above all else is not only single-minded and irrational, but also optimistic beyond all reason.

  “I should have known better than to hope.

  “He stood with his back to me, staring at the shelves of books behind his desk – books that I knew quite well he didn’t read, because he’d told me many times that books were for ‘gutless little fairies’ such as myself, and that a real man only needed to read the fear in the eyes of his enemies. He enjoyed provoking fear in those who dared enter his office, and he was quite good at it.

  “He stared at the dusty leather spines of those books, time slipped past, and just as I considered the mad hope that he might lose interest in this business and pass out at his desk without inflicting any damage on me at all, he turned around.

  “ ‘You knew, didn’t you? You knew, and you butchered my brother like a fucking hog to get his money.’

  “He threw the words at me like knives, and I pressed back against the door, helpless to defend myself. What was he talking about?

  “I had only the barest idea that it had something to do with the will, but that told me nothing. I did not know the contents of my father’s will, he had never discussed the document with me, and I had only the most general concept of what a will even was in the first place. My father had quite a lot of money, I knew that, but it seemed to me to be the least important thing to know about him – and why my uncle thought I wanted that money was a complete mystery.

  “I understood all too well, though, that he thought I’d killed my father – and that sent fear leaping up my spine and howling through my brain, because I knew he was right. How could I hope to protect myself from the truth?”

  “Devon, if I pointed out for the millionth time that you did not in fact kill your dad, would I be wasting my breath?”

  “Probably.”

  “Then tell me why Senior Asshole Uncle would throw a pissy rage fit over the death of somebody he couldn’t stand – I mean, every last one of the Killanes hated your dad with a passion, right? But from what I’m hearing so far, your uncle was almost as mad about his useless whiskey bottle of a brother supposedly being ‘butchered’ as he was about the imaginary reason for it – why?”

  Devon shrugged like someone asked why the sky was blue, or grass green. “Because of the simple fact that Kevin Killane, with all his many hateful failings, was still a Killane – and the Killanes despise outsiders even more than they hate each other. I was the ultimate outsider in their eyes, a stranger who had been thrust unwanted into their midst and then had killed one of their own.

  “I was an outsider who would pay for his crime, and as Uncle Kennan stood shaking behind his desk, seething with bile, he was determined to drive that fact into my soul until I broke beneath the truth of it.

  “He leaned forward, planting his hands on the edge of his desk, and he brayed his anger at me, spittle flying from his lips.

  “ ‘You KNEW! You knew, and you had to take everything from us, EVERYTHING!’ He slammed one fist onto the surface of his desk, and I watched paperweights and pens and a nameplate and his liquor glass jump at the impact.

  “He straightened up, turned about, and stalked past the shelves, toward the far left corner of the room. He bellowed and cursed, and he swiveled his head to glare at me with every hammering step.

  “ ‘Because being saved from that milk-brained bitch of a mother wasn’t good enough for you, was it? You traitorous, ungrateful bastard – my brother pulled you up out of shit-kicking poverty, gave you a real life among decent people, and THIS is how you fucking repay him?’

  “He reached the far corner and turned to face me. ‘Well? Do you have anything to say for yourself? Tell me, you sick little monster, do you even miss him? Do you give one single FUCK on this earth that you killed my BROTHER?’

  “Without looking, never taking his eyes from mine, he pistoned his right fist into the wall. He punched it so hard, the teak paneling splintered and a painting hanging nearby crashed to the floor. When his hand dropped back to his side, I saw blood drip from the knuckles.

  “He didn’t notice. He turned, wavering and unsteady, fueled by blind rage and the absolute conviction that he was right, and he reeled back to his desk.

  “He stopped next to his chair, but he didn’t sit down. He stayed on his uncertain feet and he stared at me. I saw sweat running down his red face, I tried to gauge how much longer it would be before his fists were slamming into me instead of the wall, and I tried so hard to think of something, anything, to say – but my mind ran blank, and I just gaped at him.

  “However, he did come up with something to say. In that single silent moment, I saw an idea filter into his brain, a new idea, and I flattened myself even further against the door at my back, convinced this fresh thought of his could be nothing good.

  “He thought it was a brilliant bit of insight, of course – indeed, he imagined he’d divined the entire truth of the matter.

  “He glared at me with those glinting, pig-like eyes, and triumph sneered in his voice. ‘It was Montvale, wasn’t it?’

  “He was so proud of himself for having figured it out. ‘That self-righteous prick Montvale put you up to this, didn’t he? Taking Aunt Alva from us wasn’t enough, inheriting her shares wasn’t enough – he wants it all, every last penny, and he figured Kevin’s idiot bastard son would be the perfect pawn. Tell me the truth, you useless damn abortion – you tell me how you both planned this, you tell me what he promised you to get you to sell out your own blood, and you tell me NOW!’

  “Being accused of my father’s death was one thing – but Uncle Sheridan being dragged into the matter was quite another, and I heard myself speak up, helpless and
hopeless and thinking like a fool that at least I could clear the name of the only family member who had ever treated me like a human being.

  “ ‘Uncle Sheridan didn’t do anything wrong, he didn’t even know that – ’

  “ ‘SHUT UP!’

  “The roar of his voice pounded in my ears, and I didn’t even see the whiskey tumbler he threw at me until it was inches away, light flashing off its facets as it shot through the air like a missile. I dodged to one side and it detonated against the wall next to my head, slivers of glass exploding in every direction like shrapnel. One fragment sliced into my cheek, but it was like reading about someone in a distant war torn country having their face cut by flying debris – the dripping blood and the pain seemed to have little to do with me. All I could focus on, all I dared think about, was the screaming monster behind the desk.

  “ ‘He’s not even your real uncle, you witless moron!’

  “Anger beyond anything I’d ever seen burned in his eyes. ‘He’s not blood to you, he’s not blood to any of us – he stole a Killane woman, now he’s trying to parlay that into taking our money too, and he’s nothing but a holier-than-thou snob who thinks he’s so much BETTER than the rest of us!’”

  “Yeah, but Uncle Sheridan was way better than any of those asshole clowns, on his worst day – with a broken arm and a hangover and wearing a pink tutu with bells on, he’d be better than that bunch.”

  “You will get no argument from me on that. But I fumbled on, trying to answer him while searching for the magical combination of words that would defuse his anger – a useless enterprise, but it was the only course I saw before me.

  “ ‘Please, I don’t know anything about any of this, Uncle Kennan, I swear – and I don’t care about my father’s money and his stuff, you can have it, I just want to –’

  “ ‘Dear God, you brat, do you think I’m stupid? Do you think I’m as righteously stupid as YOU are? Do I look that stupid to YOU?’

  “I didn’t dare say what he looked like to me, so I just watched as his piggy glare bore into me, and I didn’t say anything.

  “He stared at me, breathing in ragged gulps, clenching and unclenching his fists, and then his attention wandered for a few seconds. He spotted his nearly empty bottle of Kentucky bourbon, reached for it, and then slowly realized the only glass he could have poured it into now lay shattered on the floor.

  “He looked around like someone with only a vague memory of having once owned a glass, and then he turned back to the bottle, picked it up … and then set it back down with an echoing thump. He stared at it like it was some extraordinary alien visitor to his desk, and then he turned that stare on me.

  “ ‘I know you did it.’

  “His words fell into the silence. It was strange to hear that apish bellowing voice dialed down to a whisper, and quite terrifying to see him drift out from behind his desk like a wavering shadow.

  “He stopped by the corner of the desk.

  “ ‘I know you did it, and maybe it was that cocksucker Montvale’s idea and maybe it wasn’t – but it really doesn’t matter. Either way, Kevin got your gangling pale whore of a mother pregnant, and it came back to bite him in spades.

  “ ‘You dragged him out to that racetrack, you tricked him somehow into climbing onto one of those crazy animals he wasted his money on, you spooked the stupid flighty thing into running into a tree, and you did it on purpose. Didn’t you?’

  “The hell of it was that for all I knew, I had done it on purpose. I replayed that moment when I moved into the horse’s path over and over in my mind, on that night and on so many nights since, and I still don’t know why I took a single step in that one fatal direction. Like so many moments in life, it was something that just happened.”

  “But you didn’t tell him the part where you moved, did you? Even though it was so not your fault, that would have been all the proof his rage-brain needed to convict you, right there.”

  Devon turned his head, staring at me like a clockwork doll meeting a human for the first time. “Ashley, you are the only person I have ever told about that one deadly step I took that day. We are the only two people on earth who know I killed my father.”

  “Devon, I don’t know how I’m supposed to plug this knowledge into your general weirdness, but what I do know for a fact is that you did NOT kill your dad. You didn’t kill the horse. You didn’t kill anybody, Devon.”

  “Your gentle heart believes in my innocence, but I do not deserve your belief and your loyalty, sweet Ashley. I may or may not have moved on purpose, but I am as guilty of my father’s death as if I’d plunged a knife into his heart.”

  And he turned away from me like an automated man, cutting off my protest before I even knew I’d decided to shut up.

  Why the hell was he so set on taking the blame for something he didn’t do?

  “Uncle Kennan took a step of his own just then – a single step out from the desk, though he kept his left hand on it to steady himself.

  “He spoke again, and his voice dropped lower than ever.

  “ ‘You did it, you stupid witless thing, and now we’re ruined. Ruined, all of us, and all because of you.’

  “Another step closer, and then his voice fell so low, I strained to hear it.

  “ ‘You don’t even know what you’ve done to us, do you? You’re truly that stupid.’

  “He slid a step nearer.”

  Devon shifted in his chair, edgy and restless.

  “My uncle eased closer still, and when he spoke, his words came out in a spiteful hiss.

  “ ‘How did Kevin find your mother? How did my brother find such a stupid woman to bear his stupid son?’

  “My heart thundered in my chest. This was worse than the yelling – this shockingly quiet voice, and the way he was coming closer to me, step by inching step. Another stride or two, and he’d be within hitting range.

  “Then an idea leapt up for attention in my mind, and I grabbed at it like a drowning man.

  “ ‘Can I go back to Mama?’

  “My thoughts gibbered in frantic circles, seized by joy and celebration and the desperate, fevered conviction that this was the perfect solution. I gabbled on, adding word upon word to my plea, and barely noticed as my uncle took two more steps towards me.

  “ ‘My father’s dead and you don’t want me, so can I please go back to Mama? I know she’s in that hospital, but I can stay with her and help take care of her, and you’d never have to see me again. You and all my other uncles can have my father’s money; I’m not sure how all that works, but I’ll sign papers or whatever you need me to do – so can I go back to Mama?’

  “My uncle’s voice rose, just a little, and his words were like a razor-sharp knife dripping with honey. He stood less than an arm’s length away.

  “ ‘You want your mommy, little boy? Is that all you can think about, you worthless, murderous fuck?’

  “His next words ended the world.

  “ ‘Well, think again, because you killed her too.’ ”

  Silence.

  Devon’s eyes sank shut and he said nothing.

  I said nothing, because what can you say when the bottom drops out of somebody’s life?

  So I held him. Sometimes, that’s all you can do for someone you love.

  The big guy’s eyes opened, and they were blank. He recited the rest of what happened that long-ago night as if the events were milk, bread, and eggs on a grocery list.

  “Uncle Kennan’s trembling voice edged higher, and I didn’t move when he grabbed a fistful of my shirt and leaned into my face. The whiskey stink of his breath almost choked me.

  “ ‘You know she’s in that hospital? You don’t know jackshit – she killed herself three days ago. The incompetent doctors in that shitty hole told her Kevin was dead, she wandered around whining about it all day – never said a word about you, by the way – and that night she broke into the medication room, gulped down every pill she could get her hands on, and slashed her wrists with th
e broken glass from one of the cabinets for good measure. She was dead and stiff and cold by the time they found her, and good fucking riddance – one less one whore in the world, and one less bill we have to pay.’

  “He tightened his grip on my shirt and boosted me off the ground, sliding me up the door a few inches. I stared at him, I heard the truth in his voice, and then I heard him tell me about the note she left behind.

  “ ‘She left a suicide note like a good little girl, though, told them all about why she was going to do it: ‘Kevin’s gone, and nothing’s left. I should go now.’ That was it – short, sweet, to the point, and didn’t mention one word about her forgotten, useless little killer of a son.’

  “I heard my voice, and it was as if it belonged to some other boy, in some distant world that hadn’t collapsed into roaring chaos.

  “ ‘Mama’s dead?’

  “My uncle answered me by lifting me away from the door a few inches – I was still thin and small in those days, and he had the strength of an alcohol-soaked madman – and then he slammed my head back into the door with a sharp crack that echoed in the silence.

  “Pain exploded in my skull, and I screamed in a long, whooping howl. Here it was, what I’d known was coming, the beating, but with Mama dead, did it even matter what happened now? Some distant part of me heard running footsteps in some part of the house that might have nearby, or far away – but that hardly mattered either.

  “He grinned like a lord of devils, and he cracked my head against the door again. My eyes watered, I gasped, and something told me I should be crying, but I couldn’t find the breath.

  “He eased me back down until my feet touched the floor again, but his left fist remained clamped in my shirt, just below my throat.

  “Uncle Kennan bent down, leaned in close again, and spit and alcohol drooled from his mouth as he repeated the news of the world’s end.