The Terms: Part One (The Terms Duet)

by Ruby Rowe

  “You’re a dick.”

  “I can’t deny that I’m loving this.”

  Irene bustles in and sets down the salads we’ll eat before she serves one of her specialty pasta dishes.

  “Can I get you anything else, Mr. Burke?”

  “No, thank you, Irene. This looks great.”

  She leaves the room, and I examine my salad.

  “Just out of curiosity, how much percentage shows when siblings of the parent in question take a paternity test?”

  “I don’t understand what you mean.”

  “For example, say you had a kid but weren’t available to take the test, could Lawrence take it to prove you’re the father?”

  “Yes, if my brother took the test, the DNA would match, but the results wouldn’t show as high of a percentage.”

  “Hmm … what if you and Lawrence were only half-siblings?”

  Lifting up a fork full of salad, he eyes it.

  “The same, but I believe it’d be even less percentage.”

  He shoves the bite of food inside his mouth, so I start to take a bite myself, but then his fork drops against the table, creating a loud ding.

  “Holy shit. You’re not Liam’s father, are you? Tony is.”

  Damn, I didn’t think I was that obvious. I recall what I said to Christopher about deceiving me and how I’ve already lied to Greyson once. I can’t bring myself to do it again. Exhaling a weighted breath, I lay down my fork.

  “OK, I’m sorry I lied. He’s Tony’s child.”

  Clearing his throat, my cousin wipes his mouth with his napkin.

  “I–wow. I don’t know what to say to that.”

  “It’s complicated.”

  “You think?” He runs a hand over his blond hair. “Why did you tell me he was yours?”

  “I want my parents to believe he is. You know how badly my mother wants me to marry and give her grandchildren. If she finds out Liam is Tony’s, it will be yet another reminder that my brother wasn’t hers. She’ll be bitter at my father all over again for having a blood-related grandchild.”

  “As far as I remember, your mother always treated Tony like he was her flesh and blood. Are you sure this isn’t about you?”

  “What are you saying?”

  “Are you really dating Camilla?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then are you sure you’re not worried what people will think when they find out the woman you’re living with was once dating your brother? Or how the child you’re raising is his?”

  “That’s absurd. I don’t care what people think about me.”

  “Bullshit. We all care, whether we admit it or not.”

  I drag a hand over my mouth. “OK, fine. A part of me thinks this will stir up less gossip and drama if people believe he’s mine. They won’t have to know that Camilla ever met my brother. But it’s mainly about my mother. She’ll be ecstatic thinking Liam’s her grandchild.”

  Greyson shakes his head. “Man, this is a twisted situation. I’m the attorney to your brother’s estate, and now you just confessed that he has an heir. It’s a big fucking deal, and don’t you want him to have Tony’s money?”

  “Liam doesn’t need his money. He has mine for now, and once he’s an adult, I’ll give him Tony’s money through a trust. You can help me set that up.”

  “What about Camilla? Doesn’t she want Tony’s money to help raise her son? She has to wonder if you’ll kick her to the curb at some point.”

  I glare at him. “I wouldn’t do that. I’ll take care of them no matter what the future holds. The only thing up in the air is what we’ll tell Liam.”

  “Look, why don’t you take the DNA test first. The results should come back fast. I think we need to determine he’s definitely Tony’s before we move forward. If by some off-chance he’s not, you may not want to add him to your will.”

  “I know the test needs to happen, but this won’t go over well with Camilla. She’s going to think I don’t believe her.”

  “Surely, she can appreciate the kind of wealth on the line. Hell, she might want Liam to have Tony’s money, and maybe she can’t find the courage to tell you.”

  “Right … I hadn’t thought of that. We’ll get the test right away, and in the meantime, keep this news between us.”

  “My lips are sealed.”

  Camilla

  “Thank you, Beatrice, for rushing over. I hate leaving Liam this soon after the accident, but I have to check on my sister.”

  “It’s no trouble at all.” Her grey hair is pinned up in a bun, and I stifle a giggle when I see her black orthopedic tennis shoes below her long black skirt. I pray I don’t dress like that in my sixties.

  “This is more than I should ask of you, but could you discreetly check on Ellis a time or two, as well?”

  Giving a knowing smile, she nods.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Thank you again. I’ll try to hurry back.” Grabbing my purse off the table near the door, I slip out quietly.

  Greyson and Ellis have been talking a while, and I’ve worried Beatrice wouldn’t get here in time for me to escape without an interrogation.

  I didn’t call Fletcher to take me. He lives nearby and is somehow at Ellis’s beck and call. No, I have to do this alone, and my sir will be pissed later, but I’ll deal with him then. He will want to punish me, and I’ll happily oblige.

  In my old car, I drive past the security guys and wave. One gives an anxious, puzzled look before he nods. Yep, I’m probably getting them in trouble, too.

  I drive far across town from Ellis’s, and it’s like I’m in another world when I near my dilapidated, ugly brown apartment building.

  The realization creates a sting of guilt in my chest for living here with Liam, but I remind myself that I was doing the best I could under the circumstances.

  I park next to an old pickup that’s in my assigned spot. I wasn’t about to bring the new Mercedes here. It would be gone once I’m ready to leave.

  As usual, music is blaring as I approach the door, and I guess I’ll be lecturing Sasha. She’s going to get us kicked out of this place if she keeps it up.

  Once I unlock the door, I push it open, but it stops as the chain lock catches. In frustration and so she’ll hear me over the music, I pound on the door. Rusty’s face appears through the small opening where the chain is fastened.

  “Well, well, well, look who came by to slum it.”

  “Cut the shit, and let me inside my apartment.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Excuse me? I’m not playing, Rusty. Let me in.”

  “No. Go back to your mansion.” He rubs on his dark goatee that matches the color of his stringy, long hair.

  I grab my hip. “Where’s Sasha? Get her now.”

  “No.”

  “Then I’ll call the cops.”

  “You’re bluffing. Your sister already blabbed that there’s a reason you’d never get the cops involved, so you’re going to go back to that rich asshole and pay the bills on this place every month so we can live here.”

  “The quota of blackmails I’ll tolerate for the year has been met, so you can kiss my ass.” I pull out my phone from my purse. “I’m calling the property manager. He’ll kick every one of you out.”

  “See, I thought of that, too, but after he sees what’s going on in here, he’ll then call the cops, which puts us back to that whole issue again, and we already established how you don’t want the police showing up.”

  All his words are flowing out in an annoying singsong, and I want to reach through this opening and strangle his windpipe. Shoving on the door, I scream for Sasha. Rusty gives a smug grin that reaches his glassy eyes.

  “She’s not in any shape to chat.”

  “What did you do to her? What did you give her?”

  “Go home, Princess. Your kind isn’t welcome here.” He slams the door in my face, and I let out the loudest groan. That fucking asshole isn’t getting away with this.

 
; My sister must’ve failed to tell him the environment we were raised in. Liam’s being safely cared for at the moment, so I can handle this old-school.

  Once I’m in my car, I root through my purse and find the business card Bruce gave me my last night at Octavia. I punch the numbers into my phone.

  “Hello, it’s Bruce here.”

  “Bruce, it’s Camilla … from Octavia.”

  “Cannoli girl, how’s it hanging?”

  “Actually, not good. I need a favor.”

  “What’s the problem?”

  “Do you have a couple of friends who could help you clean out a house for me? As in, clean the lowlifes out of my old apartment for me? My sister’s inside, and she’s in trouble.”

  “I told you I got your back, girl, and I meant it. I don’t have to be at work for a couple of hours. Where are you?”

  I shake my head. “This is crazy. I can’t ask this of you. What if you get in trouble?”

  “That’s not gonna happen. I have special ways of making people stay quiet.”

  “OK, but only if you’re sure. Let me give you the address….”

  I hang up with Bruce, and my phone rings while still in my hand. Shit. Ellis. He already knows I disobeyed. Pushing the answer button, I hold it up to my ear and scrunch my nose.

  “Hello.”

  “Are you still at your apartment?” he asks, with anxiety as an undertone to his powerful voice.

  “Yes, and I’ll be home later.”

  “I’m on my way to get you.”

  “No, Ellis, please don’t show up here. I don’t want you to see my apartment.”

  He growls in my ear. “What’s going on over there?”

  “I have it under control.”

  “I swear on the goddamn playroom that you’re being punished for this, young lady.”

  “Punish me all you want to, but please don’t come here.” It’s quiet on the other end of the line. “Ellis? Are you there?” He hung up on me. That can’t be good.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Camilla

  My foot is tapping, and I’m tasting blood from my lip by the time a white SUV rolls up next to me. Burly Bruce gets out of the driver’s side.

  He’s in jeans and a tight black t-shirt that hugs his massive biceps. Two men, almost as tall and muscular, get out and stroll up beside him. One is African American, like Bruce, and the other Caucasian.

  “This is Rob and my brother, Bing. They love cleaning up messes. Lead the way.” The men nod hello to me and look toward the apartment building. I start to walk up the sidewalk, so they follow behind me.

  “Let us go inside first to get the situation under control, and then you can come in and find your sister.”

  “OK. I can’t thank you enough for this. Rusty has long, dark hair. Just don’t let my sister get hurt, and I really need this to happen without the cops showing up. I mean, I know you can’t be super quiet—”

  “I got this, Camilla,” Bruce says, grabbing my shoulders. I suck in a noticeable breath and pull free to shove the key in the door. I unlock it and back out of their way.

  Like the chain lock’s made of paper, Bruce busts right through it with his friends storming in behind him. I hear his deep voice over the music, and then I hear Rusty’s and another male’s.

  Next, there’s yelling and the sound of some thuds and rumbles, maybe someone’s back slamming against the wall. If the cops don’t show, it will be a miracle. The only saving grace is the fact that most of my neighbors don’t want them here any more than I do.

  Sasha. Where is she in all of this? Knowing my sister is safe is all I can think about, so I step through the doorway. Bruce is putting a beating on Rusty, and his friends have laid out a couple of other guys I don’t recognize.

  There’s a girl in only panties curled in a ball on the sofa, and she’s crying. The music, fighting and yelling combined with the scent of drugs and filth is all too much for me.

  My throat’s closing up, and my sight blurs as fear consumes me. No. I have to get it together for Sasha. My eyes dart around, looking for her, but she’s not in the family room, so I swing open my bedroom door.

  My sister is sprawled out on the bed in a tank top and panties. There’s a rubber band tied around her arm and a needle next to her. Running to her side, I rip off the rubber band. I clutch her shoulders and shake them.

  “Sasha, wake up. Sasha.” She opens her eyes, but they roll back in her head. Her mouth is hanging open with a film of drool at each corner. “Sis, can you hear me?”

  “Yes,” she mumbles.

  “I’m taking you to the hospital.”

  “No.” She tries to shake her head. “I’ll be OK. I’m OK,” she slurs.

  “Then you’re going home with me, and tomorrow I’m taking you to rehab.” Realizing I can’t pick her up, I stride toward the door to see if Bruce can carry her out. I come to an abrupt stop when I spot Greyson, Ellis, and one of his security guys.

  With a puffed out chest, Ellis rips off his sling. The Velcro makes a loud noise over the music as he pulls it apart, and lord, could this night get any worse?

  He’s yelling at Bruce, with a finger in his face, as anger drips from his words. The security man and Greyson are toe to toe with Bruce’s friends. Spotting me, Ellis exhales in relief. I run and slide between him and Bruce.

  “He’s my friend, Ellis. He came to help. I’ll explain later, but right now I have to get Sasha home. She’s in my bedroom.”

  The girl on the couch is still crying as she dresses. Bruce shuts off the stereo and begins talking to her. I follow Ellis and Greyson into my bedroom, and standing next to my bed, Ellis grumbles something under his breath.

  “Can you carry her out for me?” he asks his cousin. After Greyson wraps my sister’s exposed body in the blanket that’s beneath her, we head back to the living room.

  I approach Bruce and nod toward my sister’s three so-called friends who are lying lifeless on the floor. Their scrawny asses didn’t stand a chance against him and his friends, especially while high.

  “Will they be OK?”

  “They’ll live, but they won’t forget it. I told that Rusty he better never step foot near this place or your sister again. I think he was about to cry, but I didn’t give him the chance.” He brandishes a grin like this event was no big deal. “I’ll tend to this mess. You go.”

  “Thank you. I’ll call you tomorrow, and I owe you dessert.”

  “Camilla!” Ellis shouts at me from the door. Bruce scowls and points at him.

  “Are you safe to leave with that guy?”

  “Yes, I promise.” Landing a kiss on his cheek, I scurry toward the door. Ellis says something to the security guy before the man strides toward an SUV.

  Following Ellis and Greyson to an expensive car I don’t recognize, I then help Greyson put Sasha in the backseat. She falls over, her body limp on its side.

  Leaving her be, I walk around to the other door. With flared nostrils and a locked jaw, Ellis holds it open for me.

  “I’m sorry,” I utter.

  “Get in. Now.” Lowering my gaze, I do as he says, lifting Sasha up to make room for myself. The door slams shut, and I jump.

  Greyson starts up the car, and soon the silence is deafening, seeming far more chaotic in my mind than the various loud noises I heard inside the apartment. Greyson must feel it, too, since he turns on the radio.

  The ride across the city seems like an eternity. Sasha moans on occasion, rolling her head from one side to the other, and I keep saying a prayer she won’t puke in a car that I would guess costs a few hundred grand. Worrying she’s cold, I pull the blanket snugger around her.

  This is humiliating. Greyson and Ellis saw my drugged sister in her panties and were in my apartment at its worst. Hell, they’ve probably never seen the inside of a place like that before.

  I worry Ellis will struggle to forgive me for this. We can’t go a day without issues, and it’s quickly wearing on us. Even after what he sai
d to me in my study, I can’t help but feel like baggage he won’t be able to handle.

  It’s why I tried to leave him out of this ordeal tonight. I needed someone to get rid of Rusty, and that’s what Bruce and his friends did, but I betrayed Ellis. I really screwed things up.

  Ellis

  Greyson carries Sasha upstairs and to one of the spare bedrooms. For once it’s good I have so many. For years this house was empty and quiet, and now it’s like I’m running a damn hotel.

  I’m guessing by now Beatrice is in another bedroom, watching over Liam from the monitor. I installed them in almost every room.

  “Thank you, Greyson,” Camilla says without looking him in the eye as they both cover her sister up in the queen-size bed.

  “No problem.” He’s staring down at Sasha, scratching the back of his head. “I’m going to take off.” He passes by me at the door. “Don’t be too hard on them.”

  “Thanks for the help.” Once he’s left us alone, Camilla trudges over to me. Dropping to her knees, she takes hold of my hand with both of hers.

  “I’m sorry I disobeyed you.”

  “Sir.”

  “I’m sorry I disobeyed you, Sir.”

  “We’ll discuss it tomorrow.”

  “But I don’t want you to be mad at me.”

  “I’m not mad; I’m fucking furious. Take care of your sister, and I’ll check in on Liam.”

  Bowing her head, she nods and let’s my hand slip from hers. I leave her alone, once again feeling as if a hundred different emotions are crowding my head and worming under my skin.

  On one hand, I’m impressed as hell by what Camilla was brave enough to do to help her sister, but why didn’t she let me be involved? I thought I made it clear that I’ll be the one to protect her.

  Granted, I’m not in the best physical shape to fight tonight, but I don’t think that’s why she hid from me what she had orchestrated.

  Am I always going to feel this out of control caring about her and Liam? It’s brutal, and I have this eerie sense the stress has only just begun.

  ***

  A knock on my bedroom door wakes me, and it opens before I can respond.