Rewind & Go: A Blue-Collar Billionaire Romance (Sander's Valley Book 1)

by Nancy Corrigan

  He’d had his whole life planned out. Ronnie had wiped it out with her disappearing act, and he’d had to reevaluate everything. The construction business had been a gamble, one that hadn’t panned out the way he’d hoped.

  He glanced at the paper next to him, an offer from his part-time employee to buy out the company Kyle had started. His friend was convinced he could make it work where Kyle had failed. He was too nice, his buddy had said.

  Maybe Kyle had given too many discounts, but he knew the families who’d hired him. Many could barely feed their kids. If they needed basic repairs, he made sure they got them, sometimes in exchange for favors instead of hard cash.

  Earlier in the week, he’d been dead set against signing, despite his financial troubles. The families in and around Sander’s Valley relied on him to provide quality work at an affordable price. Besides, his plan to convert the garage and build custom cabinets would offset the discounts he sometimes gave. He was sure of it.

  He’d already gotten calls from a couple of custom home builders, inquiring about his work. If he accepted their offers, he’d be busy for at least a year. The best part of those jobs was knowing the people ordering his cabinets could afford to pay him.

  His friend had said to take a couple of weeks to think about the offer before outright refusing, no rush. As the days dragged on, it was looking more and more inviting. Persistence would get Kyle nowhere if Ronnie kept building walls between them. He’d be in the same boat he’d been in before she’d walked back into his life. Bitter, miserable, and lonely. Actually, he was well on his way. He missed Ronnie’s smile, her touch…her voice.

  They’d talked for hours the first two days. The third she’d gotten off after fifteen minutes, complaining of a headache. Yesterday their phone call had lasted five. Today he’d gotten her voice mail.

  She was busy. He got that. He just couldn’t help but read into it. She was avoiding him and the mystery surrounding her birth father. She still hadn’t opened the paternity test. She couldn’t deal with it, she’d said.

  None of his attempts to convince her to get it over with had worked to change her mind. She’d had excuses for everything, including any of his ideas about their future. One day at a time, she’d said. Sure, and every damn day made it easier for her to forget about them. Out of sight, out of mind, as his mama would say.

  He slid the small ring partially on his pinkie finger and dialed Ronnie’s number. He was done waiting. He’d lose her if he did. Not happening.

  The phone rang several times before she picked up. “Hello?”

  He heard the question in her voice—who was it? Guess he wasn’t special enough to get his own ringtone or his name added to her contact list. He bit back the annoyance. It wouldn’t do any good.

  “It’s me, doll. I just wanted to let you know that I’m getting ready to leave.”

  “Where are you going?”

  He clenched his fist. The diamond dug into his palm. “I’m coming down to see you. Remember?”

  She groaned. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize it was Friday already. Look, I don’t think it’s a good idea if you come down this weekend.”

  He tensed. “Why not?”

  “I finally opened that letter. I’m still trying to deal with the fallout.”

  And she hadn’t called him? Anger flared. He pushed it back. “What did it say?”

  “That my life has been one big fat lie. My mom cheated on my dad…I mean her husband.” She laughed. The bitter sound cut at him. “You see? I can’t stop calling him my dad.”

  “Oh, doll, I’m sorry. Whether his seed created you or not, you know Frank loved you like his daughter.”

  “He thought I was his. Mom lied about the timing of her affair. After she got pregnant, he wanted them to move to Sander’s Valley permanently and demanded I be given his last name, saying it would break the curse.” The annoyance in her voice at the mention of the Axel curse was easy to hear. “They fought, separated, and the rest is history.”

  Son of a bitch. He had his answer to why Ronnie’s mom hated the valley. He also couldn’t help but agree with Frank. The curse was tied to the Axel name or, more specifically, to the heir to the Axel fortune. None of Vivien’s aunts and great-uncles died violently. Only Vivien had met a tragic end.

  And Ronnie was the only Axel left.

  His throat tightened. He closed his eyes. No. Ronnie would marry him. Take his name. It would break the curse. Like Frank, Kyle knew it, deep in his soul, but he wouldn’t repeat the same mistake Frank made—allowing stubbornness to keep him from the woman he loved. If it meant Kyle would have to make some sacrifices, so be it.

  He’d give up everything for Ronnie, even Sander’s Valley.

  The decision eased the anxiety gripping him. He blew out a slow, controlled breath and asked, “Who’s your dad, then?”

  “Gerald.”

  The quaking in her voice cut at him. He wanted to gather her close and hold her. Dammit. He hated the distance between them. “Did you talk to his…other daughter?”

  “Yes. Iona is flying in tonight to meet with me and go over some stuff. That’s why I think it’s better if you don’t come down.”

  She’d probably meant her words to calm him so he didn’t think she was ditching him. They only made him angrier. Meeting her sister would be an emotional encounter. She should want his support. The thought faded as the rest of her statement clicked. “What does she need to discuss with you?”

  “Gerald knew I was his too, but it would’ve caused a rift with his wife.” Her sigh sounded overly loud on the line. “I told Iona I didn’t care if anyone else found out about me. I only want to get to know her.”

  “She doesn’t want that?”

  “No, she does. She’s thrilled to have a sister. She’s also an only child.”

  “And?” Because there had to be more.

  “I’m older. By two months.” She cleared her throat. “And that means I’m entitled to his fortune.”

  The pain in his chest stole his breath. He squeezed his eyes shut on the surge of a premonition he didn’t understand.

  “I told her I didn’t want any of it,” Ronnie went on. “I have enough of my own, but Iona insisted, saying it wouldn’t be right. That someday my kids might want to claim their place in the family line. I finally agreed to half of it. Our lawyers are working on the legalities. She’s coming here to discuss his portfolio and see how we want to split things.”

  “Iona seems very accepting of you.”

  “Oh, she’s very nice. We really hit it off.” Ronnie chuckled. “You’d be surprised how many similarities we have. I think you’d like her.”

  “Then I’ll come down and—”

  “Kyle?”

  “Yes?”

  “I need to do this on my own. I’m trying to work through some things. Get my life in order and stuff.”

  “I understand.” And he did. He just couldn’t shake the feeling that after she was done reevaluating her life, he wouldn’t have a place in it. That wasn’t going to work, but he had to plan his next move, exactly as he’d done with his construction business. The answer would show itself. He just had to figure out the details.

  “How about I come up there next weekend? I still didn’t get the chance to hang those paintings.”

  He spun the ring and rubbed the small stone with his thumb. “Sure. I’d like that.”

  “Great. I’ll see you then.”

  She ended the call before he got the chance to say good-bye. Or I love you.

  Chapter Twelve

  A man must’ve designed heels as a modern-day torture device.

  Ronnie tried to wiggle her toes, but the narrow shoe design didn’t allow her much room. The ache in her arch needed to be rubbed too. Unfortunately, taking off her shoes in front of her lawyer would be frowned on. A shame. She’d gotten used to the flip-flops and shorts she’d worn at Kyle’s place. She missed both—the simplicity of life in Sander’s Valley and the man.

 
“They’re offering a considerable sum of money, Ms. Axel.”

  “And demanding months of my time.” She met her lawyer’s gaze, letting him see her displeasure. “Time I no longer have without my mother.”

  Mr. Randall, a man in his late-fifties, bristled, sitting taller in his chair and looking down his bird-like nose at her. He wasn’t known for his patience or his personality. Neither had mattered to Ronnie’s mother. Mr. Randall had been the Axel family’s lawyer and advisor for as long as Ronnie could remember.

  Actually, his firm had guided the Axels for close to one hundred and fifty years, leading them from one accomplishment to another and making the Axels one of the greatest success stories in the art world.

  Ronnie could admit the man knew his job. The Axel fortune had tripled in the years since he’d taken over. Beyond that, she couldn’t stand him. He was too cold.

  “You will just have to make time.” He hardened his tone. “You are required to attend not only the first night of every show, but to partake in the Axel-Volkov documentary being filmed in Saint Petersburg.”

  Russia, the land of her birth father. Five thousand miles away from home…from Kyle.

  “By who?” She narrowed her eyes. “I never signed any such agreement.”

  “You are an Axel. The last Axel. You must act like one.” Mr. Randall crossed his arms over his thin chest. “Your mother would be turning over in her grave if she heard you say such a thing.”

  He was likely right. Her mother would’ve been ecstatic over the opportunity. Actually, so would’ve Ronnie been, a couple of weeks ago. Her life had changed, however, in more ways than one.

  “My mother is no longer here. I am, and I will make the decisions concerning the Axel fortune.” The words hurt, but she couldn’t live under Vivien Axel’s influence forever. Ronnie had to become her own woman. The Axel legacy and her conscious demanded it. She’d betray both if she didn’t live up to her ideals. More than that, she’d dishonor the two men who’d always loved her unconditionally—Kyle and Frank.

  “And what about the Volkovs?” Mr. Randall raised a brow. “Or the Russian Royal Family?”

  “I never asked to be a part of either family. I was quite content with Iona inheriting everything and keeping my father’s identity a secret.”

  “You do not have a say in the matter. Gerald claimed you. His fortune is yours.”

  “Half of it is mine. The rest is Iona’s.”

  Mr. Randall leaned forward. “Against my better judgement. You gave away a large sum of money.”

  “Noted.” She nodded. “But again, it wasn’t your call.”

  “I know you are suffering the loss of Vivien and the shock of learning about your father, but you have the opportunity to secure not just the Axel’s future, but your family’s reputation.”

  “I have more money than I know what to do with, and last I heard, the Axel name was still respected.”

  “It won’t be if you shirk this opportunity. All earnings from the first night of each show will go to charity, and the Royal Family just announced they’d match each dollar donated.”

  She hadn’t known that detail. She slumped in her seat. “How about if we match it too? Surely that will make up for me not being there.”

  “It’s not about the money. It’s about the Axel legacy. Your family is known for its socially responsible acts and for its programs directed at eliminating poverty. Not only will this tour support some groups in Russia that are desperately in need of funds, but the exhibits will feature local artists. You and I both know how the right publicity can jumpstart a career.” He narrowed his eyes. “Or kill it.”

  Yes, she knew that. The fate of the artists who debuted at the Axel Gallery often kept her up at night. In an odd way, she viewed them as her children. Seeing them succeed filled her with pride.

  “By your silence, I assume you agree.” Displeasure tightened Mr. Randall’s features. “So is six months out of your life worth the cost of ruining your family’s reputation? Or possibly discovering the next up-and-coming artist?”

  Ronnie pinched the bridge of her nose. When he put it that way, her refusal was selfish, but upholding the Axel legacy wouldn’t do her any good if she didn’t have anyone to share it with.

  Mr. Randall patted her shoulder. “Take the night and think about it, Ms. Axel. Believe it or not, your mother had struggled with her obligation too and almost gave everything up. Luckily, she came to her senses. You will too.”

  Ronnie had sworn she had already come to her senses, but maybe Axels were never meant to be happy.

  Chapter Thirteen

  The inside of the secure parking garage didn’t offer much to look at, but Ronnie wasn’t interested in the scenery. The quiet appealed to her and gave her a chance to get her feelings and thoughts in order.

  Mr. Randall’s words had left her uneasy. While she might not care about her reputation, she wasn’t the only one who’d suffer if she didn’t participate in the publicity tour the Royal Family had concocted. Her lawyer had driven that truth home. Despite knowing the consequences, she couldn’t bring herself to agree to something that would force her to walk away from Kyle again.

  She already missed him, and she wouldn’t even get to see Kyle this weekend. Iona was arriving. Ronnie was supposed to meet her at the airport.

  She unlocked her phone and glanced at the time. Iona’s flight wasn’t scheduled to land for another three hours, but almost forty-five minutes had passed since Ronnie had left Mr. Randall. The guilt over her choice hadn’t lessened, no matter how many times she recalled her reasons for staying in the States.

  Maybe she was being selfish by refusing to go to Russia. It was only six months. Meeting the distant relatives who seemed so adamant about claiming her as part of their family would be nice too. Not everyone could say they were related to royalty, but then again, a title meant little without a decent personality. Some of the best people she’d ever met were blue-collar workers without any title or famous relative, and there was one in particular she was desperately missing.

  Ronnie scrolled through her missed calls and selected Kyle’s number. She picked a photo of him from her album for his profile picture, selected a ringtone—one she’d never used before—then added his contact information. Seeing his image at the top of her favorites list, brought a smile to her face.

  She tapped his picture and dialed.

  He answered on the second ring. “Hey, doll. What’s up?”

  Ronnie’s smile widened with the happiness in his voice. It chased away the gloom that had hung over her since leaving her lawyer’s office. “I just wanted to call and talk to you about some stuff. Are you busy?”

  “Even if I was, I’d make time for you. You know that.”

  She did. Warmth spread through her, easing the tension in her muscles. She rested her head against the back of her seat. “I do, and I’m grateful for you.”

  “Well?” Kyle finally asked, breaking the silence. “What’s bothering you? Is it about us?”

  “In a roundabout way. Mostly, it’s about me.” She took a deep breath, then told Kyle about her visit with the lawyer, but left out what she planned to do. She wanted his opinion. No amount of rationalizing eased her guilt.

  “You don’t care what Gerald’s family or the art community thinks about you, do you?”

  “No. I don’t care what they say about me. I care about…” She could bring herself to finish her statement. Her dedication to growing the Axel’s influence in the art world had been one of the reasons she’d left Kyle a decade ago. No matter how much she loved him, her commitment to the family business hadn’t changed. She wasn’t sure what to do about the conflicting demands either.

  “You care about the Axel legacy.”

  “Yes.” She worried her lower lip between her teeth and hoped she could come up with the right words to explain her feelings. “The Axel name is renowned and respected in the art world. People know the works we display and sell are the best of the best. Tha
t’s the reputation I worry about being tarnished. The artists who rely on us to get their creations in front of those who will enjoy and hopefully buy them need the boost we can give them. We have the power to make or break careers, Kyle. That’s a huge responsibility.”

  “Who are you referring to you when you say ‘we’? You’re the only Axel left.”

  “Yes, but I don’t handle everything. I have Mr. Randall to deal with the legal stuff and give me advice on our finances, buyers who bring in clients and artists to the galleries, photographers who catalog our work for the website, writers who handle the newsletters and promotional displays, and the workers who make sure the gallery looks perfect every day.”

  The weight of responsibly settled on her shoulders again. “All those people rely on me, Kyle. I don’t want to snub the Russian Royal Family if doing so will hurt the Axel name, but…”

  “But you don’t want to leave home.”

  More like she didn’t want to leave Kyle.

  “No, I don’t want to leave. I have too much going on in my life.” The vague response bothered her. Until she could figure out how she was going to balance her obligations to the gallery and her heart, it’d be best to keep the truth to herself, though. She didn’t want to make any promises she couldn’t keep.

  “You have a lot going on, and you might be the last Axel, but you’re not alone.”

  “Yes, I am. There—”

  “There are a whole bunch of people who can handle the day-to-day stuff. Let them do it. You can oversee everything remotely. That’s the beauty of technology, Ronnie. Email, video conferences, shared networks. Those are things the Axels before you didn’t have. They had to physically be at the gallery to oversee things. You don’t. All those people you mentioned are probably the best of the best. They want the gallery and auction business and whatever else you handle to succeed as much as you do. It’s their livelihood on the line.”