"Cheers," Anna said. "Now help me figure out this chicken recipe."
It almost felt like old times as we all worked to decode the new recipe and then argued over seasonings. Owen was different, and I had to admit the change was great to see. He and Anna stumbled around and laughed in the small kitchen while I helped with prep from the other side of the counter. We ate standing up at the kitchen island and declared it was one of our best meals yet.
After we finished, I left Anna and Owen to start the dishes so I could check my phone messages. There was another voicemail from Landon, but I couldn't bear to hear his voice. No matter what he said, it felt like nothing could work out between us, and I wasn't ready to hear the final call yet.
I stared at my phone for almost a full minute before deciding if anything was said, it was going to need to be face to face. And god knew I wasn't sure I could ever face him again. I deleted the message and turned back to our tiny kitchen.
"All right, it's your turn to relax, master chef," I told Anna. I shooed her toward our saggy sofa. "Go put your feet up and let me finish the dishes. It's the least I can do to make up for all my moping."
I scrubbed the greasy frying pan with a vengeance while Owen went to put Anna's favorite album on. He poured another large glass of the Malbec and took it to her. She swatted him away as he propped a pillow under her feet and pretended to fan her with a sprig of rosemary.
"Where has this Owen been?" I asked when he returned to the kitchen to help me dry the dishes.
"I don't know, but I think I like him," Owen said.
"Me too," Anna called from the living room. "Though I might be a little tipsy."
Owen grinned at her and then asked me, "Would it have made a difference? If you knew this Owen back in New York, would you have still come out here and moved on with your life?"
I would never have broken down on Highway 1 and accidentally discovered The Sand Dollar. I wouldn't have gone to the most opulent gala in a gold dress. I would have never met Landon Michel.
"I don't think so," I told Owen. "I didn't make you this happy, and I think things have worked out for the better."
"For both of us?" Owen asked. "No matter what happened between us, I can't stand seeing you this way."
I sighed. "My situation can't really be described as 'better' anymore, can it?"
"You were really happy for a while and we all noticed.” He leaned back against the counter and cleared his throat. “Now it’s time for real talk. To me, it doesn't seem like something that fantastic can just dry up overnight. Can it?"
"I don't know what you want me to say." I tossed down the damp dishtowel and picked up my wine.
He topped off my glass. "He's miserable, you know."
I retreated to the living room and joined Anna on the sofa.
Owen followed me and wouldn't give up. "Landon's at the office all the time, and I'm not sure if he actually goes home. He's been working like a dog and apparently making some great changes around the office, but everyone hates to see him there. He's kind of a mess, Riley."
I squirmed and almost spilled my wine. "What about Lyla? Isn't she overjoyed that Landon is finally settling down and focusing on work?"
"Lyla. Man, that is one unhappy woman. You know the only time I think I've seen her smile in months is when Landon's old friend stopped by."
"Andrew?" I asked. It was hard not to jump right to happy memories of The Sand Dollar and Landon's best friend.
Owen nodded. "He came by and dragged Landon out of the office. I was there picking up some keys and it looked like some sort of intervention."
My heart hammered as I wondered what advice Andrew was giving Landon. A wild flame of hope flickered in my mind as I imagined Andrew setting Landon straight. Would he tell him I was worth waiting for?
Owen sat down on the arm of the sofa by Anna. "Riley, you have to talk to him. You can't go on like this and neither can he. Plus, you owe it to yourself to clear the air, get a clean break, or get over this misunderstanding."
"Those are three very different things," Anna pointed out.
Owen shrugged. "I'm new at being Riley's girlfriend. Give me a break."
Anna giggled and elbowed him. "For what it's worth, Riley, I agree with Owen. If you really think Landon was using you, then you need to call him out on it. Otherwise, you should hear what he has to say. You never know, maybe he'll surprise you."
Owen held out a hand and hauled me to my feet. "At least sleep on it." He led me to my bedroom, flicked on my favorite lamp, and turned down the covers on my bed. "Maybe things will look better in the morning."
He kissed my cheek and headed back to sleep on our saggy sofa.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Landon
I pried one sticky eye open and groaned. Sunlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows. I buried my head in my pillow again. Egyptian cotton, soft as a cloud —I definitely had not crashed on my office couch again.
The night came back in firework flashes of memory. Andrew had lined up shots along the bar. He stopped slamming them back after the first two, and I tackled the whole line myself. That would explain the sour tang in my mouth and the pounding in my head.
I opened both eyes and saw the vaulted ceilings of my own bedroom. "Goddammit, Andrew, you tricked me."
He'd gotten me drunk enough to get me home to Golden Bluff.
I hauled myself from bed and staggered across the polished floor. Hot coffee had appeared, probably seconds before I woke up, and I thanked the universe for my wonderful estate staff. My housekeeper had even included a small, sample-sized bottle of whiskey. She knew I preferred coffee and hair of the dog to cure a hangover.
A few sips and my vision straightened enough to take in the breathtaking view. I turned my back on it. The view used to inspire and energize me, but now it reminded me of Riley.
I needed to shake off my soreness and the last thought-scrambling effects of the alcohol, so I yanked on a pair of pants and a t-shirt. The vast, cathedral-ceilinged hallway was empty, and I shuffled through the gallery on the way to my office. It was impossible not to pause at the railing and admire the grand hall below.
I leaned on the railing and imagined opening the hall to guests, renting it out for other upper echelon events besides our charity galas. Golden Bluff could ring with voices. I wanted so badly for other people to find the same inspiration I did in all the splendor of the American palace. It was a shame to be here alone.
Riley would approve. Riley, who had left me on the beach all alone. She’d been right to leave me there, too. I’d screwed everything up.
The gilded framed photographs and portraits on the wall seemed to mock me. "I know what you think," I snarled at a candid photo of my parents. "At least you had each other. Every decision you made was for each other and now your final dictate is going to make sure I'm alone forever."
A wash of nausea forced me to lean against the wall next to the photograph. There in the background, behind my grinning parents, I saw something that laid a red haze over my mind.
"Lyla?" I yelled. I ripped the frame off the wall and ran down the grand staircase.
I marched through the foyer and into the wing where Lyla had her chrome and white office. She wasn't there. The clock didn't lie —she should have been working for hours. I was too surprised to move for a moment and then I ran through her office and yanked open her private apartment door.
Lyla screamed at my intrusion. "Landon! You scared the hell out of me."
I was still blazing angry, but the sight of her in her long-sleeved silk pajama top and pants shocked me. "Are you sick?"
She shook her head. "Andrew. He lit into me after he dropped you off. I didn't get much sleep."
The anger came back. "Just one more thing for you to blame on me."
"There's no need to apologize—"
I cut Lyla off. "Oh, no, I need to apologize. I apologize for being born into the family branch that had the money. I apologize for ruining your l
ife with the opportunity to run a billion dollar company. I apologize for looking out for you and giving you everything you asked for because look how it ended up."
"I know, Landon, please," she said.
I slashed a hand between us. "No, I'm not done. I'm sorry that I brought you in as a family member, thinking that you would steward the Michel legacy with the same care as me. I didn't notice that you were only out to avenge your father. I didn't know that all you wanted was to take the money for yourself."
Lyla cringed, then pointed with an unsteady finger. "Why are you brandishing that photo like a weapon?"
"This? Do you remember this? I do." I slapped the heavy-framed photograph on her delicate glass table.
"Your parents were having a photoshoot for a magazine cover before Easter dinner. My father kept yelling at us for getting in the way, but your parents didn't even notice. Look at their smiles."
"I forgot to say sorry for looking out for you when all your father did was yell at you." Another wave of nausea hit me.
Lyla poured a cup of coffee and gently set it next to the photograph. "Please stop apologizing, Landon. We have to talk."
I shook my head. "You know the one thing I won't apologize for? I'm won't say I'm sorry for being different than my parents. I won't kill myself working. We're more alike than you think, Lyla. You got a chance to run a billion dollar company, but you still wanted more. I had a billion dollar inheritance, but I want more than that."
"Had? Please, Landon, you need to listen to me—"
"Look at the photo, Lyla."
She picked it up and peered past my mother and father's smiling faces. Tears welled up in her eyes and she brushed her fingers across the glass cover of the frame. "Why did they choose this one to frame?"
"They didn't. I did. It's the only photograph that had any life to it. Real smiles, real family. This is what's real, Lyla. Not the long hours of work and endless business trips." I stood up and grabbed the frame from her.
Her eyes stayed riveted to the photograph. Behind my parents were three laughing blurs: me, Lyla, and Andrew. Wide smiles on our faces and grass stains on our Easter outfits.
"Do you see it now, Lyla?" I asked.
She shook her head, but her eyes didn't leave the happy trio in the photo. "How can you let all the money go, Landon? How can you just turn your back on it like it doesn't even matter?"
I tossed the frame back on the table with a clatter. The coffee Lyla poured from me spilled but neither of us moved to clean it up. "Why do you think it's always one or the other? Just like my parents. Just like your father."
Her mouth trembled. "One or the other? What's the other thing?"
"You know what it is. The one thing that actually matters —a real relationship. Someone to share my life and love me. Someone to accept all the good and bad that’s inside of me. Someone to appreciate the simple things like children playing on a bright spring day. Someone to grow old with. That's what I want and, to me, that's worth more than all the money in the world."
Lyla stiffened. She moved like a robot to her white marble kitchen and found a crisp white dishtowel. With mechanical movements, she sopped up the spilled coffee and took the empty mug to her kitchen sink.
She turned to me, leaning hard against the white marble counter between us. "I could have told you about the conditions of your inheritance thousands of times. At first, you were young and hell-bent on seeing the world, so I figured it didn't matter. Then you were targeted by gold-diggers, and I had to watch you get hurt. And then I told myself I didn't want to add to the pressure you were already feeling."
"An omission's the same as a lie. Just like you are now omitting all the times you bribed women to keep their distance. You didn't want me to find the right one. You didn't think I could."
Lyla's tears spilled over. "Just like you don't think I can change. You don't think I want to change. I remember that day, just as well as you do. We were happy."
She reached for the photograph but I snatched it up and held it over my head. I cocked my arm back, ready to smash the gilded frame on the floor. Lyla cried out and dodged in front of me to save it. I was so shocked that I let her yank the photograph from my hands. She clutched it to her chest and retreated to the kitchen.
A crashing surf of emotions surged inside of me, but I stayed on course. "I know you think you've won, Lyla, but you've failed, too. My inheritance is contingent on me settling down and being married by age thirty-five. Well, I've come a lot closer than you ever will to meeting that condition. You might end up with a billion-dollar conglomerate, but you'll still be all alone."
She looked down at the photograph and I saw something break inside her. Sobs shook her and I was overwhelmed with the urge to flee.
"Good luck with the Board of Trustees," I said. "I'm sure they'll give you everything you want."
* * * * *
I didn't see another soul when I re-emerged from my bedroom. It was barely nine a.m. Normally at this hour, the mansion had a faint buzz of hidden activity, but they must have heard me arguing with Lyla earlier. I paused at the top of the stairs and listened to a deep silence.
Is this what Golden Bluff would be like when I lost everything?
My footsteps sounded loudly as I marched down the grand staircase and out the front door. James, just out front, surprised me. He had my silver Maserati parked at the foot of the steps, and he whistled while he polished the hood.
"Good morning, sir. You look impeccable." He gave me a polite nod.
I smoothed down my suit. It was the first time in days I had bothered to shower, trim my beard, and put on a tie. I needed the pristine outfit to act as my armor, and James seemed to sense that.
"I won't be needing you this morning, James. Thank you," I said.
A faint smile lifted his professional expression. "Yes, sir. I prepared this car for you to drive yourself. Is there anything else you need?"
I narrowed my eyes as he opened the driver's side door for me. "Why do I feel like you're up to something?"
"Good luck this morning, sir." James shut the door behind me and headed back to the garage.
Without a word, he knew where I was going and what I intended to do. I hesitated for a moment, wanting his calm, wise advice, but then I started the car. This was something I had to do for myself.
I sped down the winding drive to Highway 1. I didn't let off the speed until I tore through Santa Cruz and arrived in the parking lot of Riley's apartment building. The dashboard clock showed it was still fairly early, and I wondered if Riley would be awake. I paused and took a deep breath.
Then I saw Owen's car. The rusty pile of crap was two spaces over. I knew for a fact he wasn't a morning person, and my stomach was a lead ball as I looked to see if he was sleeping in it. Owen's car was empty. Was he with Riley?
I threw my car door open, jumped out, and slammed it behind me. Urgency drove me up the steps and I pounded on Riley and Anna's front door before I could get myself under control. My breath was heaving when I heard the lock shift. The door cracked open.
"Landon? What? Why?" Riley was rumpled, her hair tossed from sleep, and her face was scrunched up with confusion.
I pushed into the small apartment and strode into her bedroom. It was empty. I grabbed my head with both hands to stop my whirling thoughts and slowly walked back through the tiny living room. The sofa was covered with a crumpled blanket, but Owen was nowhere to be seen.
"I'm sorry to barge in here so early," I said.
Riley was now wide-awake and her brown eyes glinted with sharp gold flecks. "What do you want?"
"You've been avoiding me and I couldn't wait any longer. We need to talk, Riley. I need to explain where everything went so wrong. Please."
She tossed her tangled hair and then smoothed it self-consciously. "Now's not a good time."
I strode up and tried to take her hands, but she stepped back from me. "It has to be. Riley, please. We can't let this go any longer. There isn't time."
My hands dropped to my sides. "Time isn't important at all. I only notice the time because of how long it's been since I saw you last. I miss you, Riley. I need to talk to you. Nothing makes sense, the days are just a blur. All I want is to be with you."
She covered her mouth with both hands and whispered, "Why? Why are you doing this to me?"
I looked around the messy and cramped apartment. Every errant stack of books and forgotten water glass reminded me of Riley. The vibrant, overgrown houseplants, the wine journal full of notes, and the open laptop framed by sticky notes, it was all so perfectly her.
"This isn't how I wanted to do this, but I can't wait any longer." I stepped back and reached into my coat pocket. I was almost on one knee when Riley grabbed my arm and hauled me back on my feet.
"I know exactly why you can't wait, and I'm not going to let you use me," she said.
As soon as I was back on my feet she let go of my arm and backed away as if repelled.
"Use you?" My world plummeted into a dark pit.
"Owen told me all about your argument with Lyla and thank god he decided to tell me." Riley wrapped her arms around her stomach. "I know you need to marry someone before you turn thirty-five or you lose everything. How could you try to use me like that? What kind of world-class liar are you?"
My head spun. "Owen told you? Where is he? Are you two back together?"
"What?" she yelped. "No. Not that it’s any of your business."
I caught her hands and struggled to hold them as she pulled away from me. "Riley, please listen. All I want is to be with you. That's why tomorrow I'm addressing the Board of Trustees and telling them to prepare for my departure."
Riley stopped struggling and blinked slowly. "Your departure?"
"I'm forfeiting my claim to the Michel inheritance. I'm giving it all up. I only want to do one thing."
"What's that?" Her voice was a thin whisper.
"All I want to do is wait for you."
Torn_An Alpha Billionaire Romance Page 50
