All We Ever Needed

by D. A. Young

  “Yes, it will be,” Holt whispered sensually.

  “Well go on ahead and talk that talk, boo! You better come all the way through with it when I see you,” Kat purred then switched up. “How are you feeling about seeing your family?”

  Holt stared up at the ceiling. “Angry and confused, but I’m reservin’ judgment until I speak to them in person. The eyes are windows to the soul and never lie. I need to read their faces when I express my concerns.”

  The eyes don’t lie. It was Rudii’s mantra that he’d passed it on to his son.

  “And what they do or don’t say. Silence, unfortunately, my love, is also an answer,” Kat added regretfully.

  Holt rose to his feet and pulled his holster from his suitcase, along with a few other necessities and slipped them on. He paused when his hand brushed something hard that hadn’t been there when he packed yesterday. Holt shifted some clothes aside and found the four-by-six photo Kat had slipped in. It was taken a couple of days ago when they went skiing. He’d piggybacked her back up the hill and paused so she could take their selfie. Her face was pressed to his, and their love was evident in their smiling faces. Holt set the sterling-silver frame on the nightstand.

  She’d already posted it to her personal Instagram feed. Holt wasn’t sure how he felt about being called “Ski-Bae”, but it was a popular pic. At least among her female followers. The male followers were respectful by being quiet. When they first came out publicly as a couple, Kat already had more than half a million followers. They went wild at their first pic together last New Year’s Eve at the Take A Stand Foundation charity ball. Her followers loved them, but every now and then, the trolls and racist assholes popped up with ignorant comments to prove Holt and Kat were living life right.

  “I need to go now. I love you and thank you for the picture you packed, baby. Keep my side of the bed warm for me.”

  Kat refrained from telling him that she might as well be sleeping outside in the snow. That’s how cold their bed felt without him. Or that her heart beat differently in his absence. She missed him so much, it was a physical ache.

  “I love you, too. Var försiktig,” she carefully added. “Man, I hope I didn’t butcher that too much! Your mother taught me that today and asked me to relay it to you. She also said to tell you that you not only have good taste in women but jewelry too.”

  Var försiktig.

  Be careful.

  He put his black wool trench coat on and swiftly buttoned it, back in business mode.

  “She’s not tellin’ me anythin’ I don’t already know. And I always am, love.”

  “Get shit squared away so you can show that beautiful country off to me.”

  Her words made him realize exactly how much he wanted Kat to see Sweden through his eyes. Holt envisioned renting one of the traditional red cabins in the Archipelago and traveling by boat wherever they needed to go. Long, sunshine-filled summer days and nights soaked with love and laughter and getting lost in one another.

  “That’s the plan, darlin’.”

  Holt hung up and headed out the door on his way to Falk Estate to see Matty. His phone rang again, and it was a livid Thea.

  “You’re never going to believe this!” she started the conversation when he answered. There was so much anger and desperation in her tone that her voice shook with her tumultuous emotions. “I want to kill him! Guess what that son-of-a-bitch did now?!”

  Chapter Eighteen

  His grief was crushing, weighing Holt down like a four-ton anchor as he stood at the foot of Matty’s hospital bed, in his sterile all-white hospital room, listening to the incessant beeping of his machines. Despite being hooked up to a catheter, ventilator, and EKG lead wires, Matty looked peaceful, almost angelic. His blonde curls were on the longer side, and Holt wished he would open his eyes, so like Thea’s, and sit up and yell, “Gotcha!” He’d give anything to hear his cousin’s high-pitched laugh as he told a corny-ass joke. Matty’s head was in an elevated position to reduce the amount of intracranial pressure and to allow the blood and the cerebrospinal fluid drain out from the brain, his doctor had patiently explained to him. Swelling of the brain tissue caused by lack of oxygen.

  The damn bag over his head and the fucking handcuffs that prevented him from ripping it off.

  Holt studied the monitor screen reflecting Matty’s heart rate, breathing, and blood pressure level. Not being here when this happened would always haunt him. Fury steeled Holt’s spine, and a red haze of vengeance settled over his vision. The door opened and he glanced over his shoulder to see Cleo holding Jules. Holt’s heart thundered at the infant’s uncanny resemblance to Matty.

  “Holton!” Cleo rushed forward, and Holt bent down so she could throw her free arm around him and kiss his cheek. “It’s so good to see you! I’m sorry I wasn’t here when you arrived, but as you know, it was the middle of the night. I thought I’d pick him up to come to sit with Matty for a while. It’s kind of our thing.”

  Her voice cracked, but she forged on, looking at her ex-fiancé hopelessly. “Even though he’s too young to understand what’s going on with his daddy…” Cleo trembled and hid her face in Jules’ body, seeking comfort from him. “Forgive me. I haven’t been in the strongest frame of mind. I know I should have reached out to you.”

  As if sensing her distress, Jules whimpered, and Cleo gently jostled him. “Everything has been a fog, and I’m simply trying to navigate through it.”

  Holt’s finger traced the baby’s soft cheek, and he smiled when the baby’s eyes opened, revealing cornflower blue eyes. He didn’t tell Cleo it was fine that she hadn’t contacted him because it wasn’t. Fatherhood was a good look on Matty. Holt liked to tease him that if he could get away with breastfeeding Jules, he’d do that, too. The baby deserved a life full of Matty’s love. So did Cleo.

  Holt critically eyed her, noting that even under stress, she was still as lovely as ever. From the way she protectively held Jules and smoothed his hair back and kissed him, he could tell that motherhood suited her. Instantly, Holt’s thoughts shifted to Kat and what she would look like pregnant with their babe. Of his seed taking root and her belly swelling with his child. Holt decided to talk to her about not postponing having a baby. He wanted the complete dream ASAP.

  “The doctor says there’s been no change.”

  “I’m afraid Matty’s stuck in limbo.” Cleo walked over to the bed and pressed her cheek to his then kissed his lips tenderly.

  She settled into the armchair next to the bed and held onto Matty’s hand with her free one. “I’m reading and talking to him. Jules wants to be held by him, and it’s not happening. I’m torn between leaving him at home and wanting him to be here when his dada wakes up.”

  “Matty would appreciate that. He’d also appreciate bein’ at home,” Holt said pointedly. “Cleo, I don’t mean to upset you, but we need to talk about the location he was found in.”

  She looked pained. “Holt, please! I-I don’t know what to say about Matty’s whereabouts. He was obviously leading a double life. That is the last thing I expected to hear about the man I exchanged vows with.”

  Holt stared at her hard. “Nothin’ changed up at all with his routine?”

  Cleo stared down at Jules’ head, blushing furiously. “Our intimacy was non-existent.”

  Eyebrows raised in surprise, Holt asked, “You weren’t havin’ sex?”

  “He was no longer touching me.” Cleo slowly released Matty’s hand. “And now I know why…”

  “My intentions aren’t to cause you more pain.”

  “Yet, they are!” she snapped. Humiliated, Cleo beseeched Holt with shattered green eyes. “Do what you need to do, just stop making me relive this nightmare!”

  The door opened again. Vera and Julian were quietly conversing and stopped short at the sight of their nephew. They pressed forward, greeting him with reserved smiles.

  “Hej, nephew. You’re looking well,” Vera remarked cautiously, anxiously searching Holt’s face
. At his slight nod, she looked relieved and offered Holt her powdered cheek. “How are your parents? You must send them our love.”

  “Fine, thank you for askin’. Let’s talk outside,” he ordered an apprehensive Julian.

  They walked out, past the security guards Ivar had stationed. Their slouched posture grew ramrod straight as Holt passed them. He’d swept them over with a cursory glance, upon entering the room. They weren’t shit. Neither looked like they’d be able to handle baby Jack let alone an armed intruder.

  “It’s good to see you, Holton. Your family is well? I haven’t spoken to Elin in a while.”

  “I wonder why.”

  Holt had received Elin’s text as soon as he landed.

  Julian is avoiding my calls. I knew I should have come with you!

  “Why is Matty here instead of at home?”

  Julian stiffened and his eyes shifted to a point over Holt’s shoulder. “This hospital has a prestigious reputation and the security—”

  “Bullshit,” Holt disputed. “My eight-year-old nephew could take those yahoos in thirty seconds, tops! Matty’s a sittin’ duck with them on the job! Arrange it. Now. He needs to be home and surrounded by family.”

  “How dare you?!” Julian blustered. “This is what is best for my son! We have specialists flying in—”

  “I dare because I fuckin’ care about his well-bein’!” Holt got in his uncle’s shocked face. “Your negligence is gonna get him killed! I was told he was receivin’ the best care. This is not it! If this was Ivar, he would not be here. He’d be at home with a full medical staff at his disposal. And you would have been the one to arrange all of it! Why is Matty, your own son, any different?!”

  “Because Ivar had him brought here!” Flustered at his outburst, Julian lowered his voice. Not enough, though, that Holt couldn’t hear the shame in it. “He said that Matty brought dishonor to the family name by carousing with a whore.”

  “And you let him do this to your son? After everythin’ Matty has done for the family and the company?!” Holt roared, grabbing his uncle by his trench coat lapels and slamming him against the closed window of Matty’s room.

  Visibly shaken, Julian wrapped his hands around his nephew’s wrists in an attempt to pull him off, to no avail. With a fulminating glare, he hissed, “Let me go and lower your voice! What was I supposed to do?! My hands were tied! You know how Ivar can be!”

  They all did. His cruelty to those who displeased him was limitless.

  “That is your son in there! Your hands were tied? Matty’s were handcuffed, Julian!” Holt replied caustically. “Because of that, he couldn’t fight for his life! Are you sayin’ you won’t fight for it either?!”

  From inside, Jules emitted a panicked cry. The guards exchanged a worried look and then chose to feign ignorance, focusing ahead rather than intercede.

  Julian stared balefully at Holt. “Of course, my son is worth fighting for! But we both know what I’m up against!”

  Suddenly, he went lax, the fight leaving him as his head tipped back against the glass. Resigned, Julian closed his eyes. “How did you think this was going to go, nephew? I can’t win against my father. No one can.”

  His laugh was a bitter croak. “The last time I tried was on my sister’s behalf. Tell me where it got me, hmm? Humiliated and tossed out on my ass, our family in shambles, while Elin walked away with everything she wanted.”

  Holt relented slightly. “Did you ever think that Ivar cuttin’ you off was your opportunity for freedom?”

  Julian’s eyes opened, and Holt saw a broken man. “My own father threatened to have me blackballed if I left! What would happen to my family then?”

  Holt released him altogether and stepped back, feeling nothing but pity for the man that allowed his life to be dictated. “You weren’t destitute. You could have started over with the money Mormor left you.”

  Julian’s head dropped, and Holt’s pity vanished as understanding dawned and his face hardened. “Right. Got it. Say no more. You loved the privileges and amenities that came with bein’ Ivar Falk’s son too much to relinquish them.”

  Sucked into a vortex of shame, Julian retorted, “I’m not your mother! The life we have is the best! It is possible to really have it all if sacrifices are made.”

  “By payin’ the price with your soul?” Holt’s lips twisted cynically.

  Pussywhipped lapdog.

  “Arrange everythin’. Do the background check and get the guards from the estate to stay with the transportation until it’s time to go. Under no circumstances are they to leave that van unattended. I’ll deal with Ivar. I’m leavin’ to take care of some things. Wait for my return before movin’ him.”

  “Thank you, Holton.”

  “Don’t thank me for doin’ what’s right.”

  “How could you, Father?!”

  Thea’s outraged cry, from down the corridor, echoed as she stomped their way. “He’s your son!”

  She’d had an event in South Africa and arrived back this morning. At her mother’s instruction, their personal housekeeper used her phone and placed a call to Thea, letting her know what Ivar instructed and to ask for Holt’s interference.

  “I cannot abide having a hypocrite under my roof.”

  “We cannot leave him all alone!” Vera begged, disregarding Julian’s furious stare.

  “Enough, Vera!”

  She ignored her husband. “You don’t even have to see him, Ivar! We can keep him in the servants’ quarters! It will be as if he isn’t even here!”

  “I understand your concern as a mother, Vera.” Her father-in-law was calm and his expression thoughtful as he offered up another option. “Perhaps, you would be more comfortable staying at the hospital with him indefinitely?”

  Julian closed his eyes again at the recrimination she threw at him. “Shut up, Thea! You think this was easy for me to do?!”

  “Matty doesn’t deserve to be outcast like this! We don’t even know the whole story!”

  “What more is there to discover? It’s history repeating itself with a Falk breaking their oath to a Bergqvist!” a man’s voice boomed.

  Holt’s animosity intensified with the newcomer’s arrival. He was six feet with nondescript features, unruly, mousy brown hair, and green eyes. He would have been completely unnoticeable except for the shiftiness of his hostile gaze.

  Nolan Bergqvist.

  Cleo’s father.

  The man Elin was supposed to marry.

  The spineless piece of shit that insisted her supposed betrayal compounded his humiliation and demanded monetary compensation. He was the real reason Holt was betrothed to Cleo. There was no love lost between the two men, given their families’ history.

  “Your family has always lacked honor, and I don’t even know what my daughter saw in Mattias! She could have done far better, especially in the looks department! He’s made her a laughingstock in our circle, and now, Cleo can barely hold her head up among our friends and constituents!” Nolan ranted. “I should have never allowed her to marry that man-whore!”

  “Go to hell, Bergqvist!” Julian shouted, shoving the other man in the chest. Nolan stumbled but regained his balance. “We both know that your family fortune isn’t what it used to be, thanks to your bad investments. If you’re not careful, the incentives afforded you with Matty and Cleo’s marriage, the ones you enjoy so much? I’ll make sure they disappear.”

  He ignored Holt’s eye roll.

  Hypocrite.

  Nolan smiled maliciously. “You know nothing about me except that I’m not under my father’s thumb like you are! My daughter needs to come home!”

  “Your daughter wants to remain by her husband’s side!” Thea interjected. “No one is forcing her to stay, asshole!”

  “Always such a lady!” Nolan sneered. “Classy, just like—”

  The sickening crack of Holt’s vicious headbutt filled the corridor, and the older man fell to the floor, blood trickling from his nose. He tried to rise but weave
d and collapsed. The security guards’ hands hovered above their guns, undecided on what their next course of action should be. Thea’s hand came out of her black swing cape, her compact Beretta APX trained on them.

  “What’s it going to be today, boys?” she purred. “Heroes or martyrs? You decide.”

  They slowly raised their hands in the air. “Wise choice,”

  “I’m so not in the mood for your fuckery, Bergqvist. Apologize.”

  “I didn’t mean—”

  “Not to me, asshole. Thea. And do better.”

  Matty’s hospital door swung open and Cleo stepped out, worried eyes swinging from her injured father to her smiling father-in-law. “What is the meaning of this nonsense? Your grandson is trying to sleep in the room that my comatose husband lies in! Please leave! This added stress isn’t conducive to anyone!”

  “I’m the only one thinking of you and Jules, dear!” he slurred, swiping his nose and managing to stagger to his feet.

  “No, you’re not! You’re simply making matters worse. Go clean yourself up.” Cleo grimaced apologetically at the Falks. “Goodbye, Father.” She shut the door quietly in Nolan’s face.

  “Per usual, you’ve managed to overstay a short visit,” Thea remarked coolly, studying her nails. “Still waiting on that apology also.”

  “Yes, of course. I’m sorry. It won’t happen again,” he amended stiffly.

  Holt was tired of his aggravating ass. “Leave. Either through the door, of your own accord, or through this window, by mine. It’s a no-brainer as to which choice will make three out of the four of us happy here.”

  “Door!” Nolan quickly replied.

  Holt smiled at Thea, who looked disappointed by the decision. “Pity.”

  They watched as Bergqvist stumbled to the elevator, and Thea added, “Oh! I almost forgot that Blaise is downstairs waiting for you, Holt! Father, he didn’t come up because he’s too angry to address you and plans to see Matty in his rightful place later this evening.”