Entrance (Thornhill Trilogy Book 1)

by J. J. Sorel

  CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

  The day was a blur. The gala was the following weekend, the same day that Aidan would be returning. By popular demand, my design was to be replicated. Apparently, word had gotten out, and tickets were sold out by the following Monday. It was not only a great vote of confidence for me, but it also meant that the preparations for the event would be a breeze.

  Balancing a tray of food prepared by Will, I headed for the garden to meet my father. As usual, it was sunny. In fact, the weather always seemed perfect. It was as if nature was in step with my mood. And with the gentle breeze swaying the languid branches, I felt loose and serene.

  “How are you, Papa?” I used the endearment I’d adopted as a teenager, after having made a personal vow to replicate all things French.

  “I am full of joi de vivre.” My father had such a handsome face when he smiled. I hadn’t seen him like that since my mother was alive.

  “And so am I, Daddy,” I said, embracing him.

  “Look at this place.” His arms swept about. “It’s a veritable paradise.”

  “Isn’t it just. I’ve started sketching.”

  The pleasure in his face nearly made me cry. We’d been through so much. And at that moment, as we regarded each other brimming with optimism, it seemed as if we’d won a celestial lottery.

  “I brought enough for both of us,” I said, placing the tray on the iron table.

  “Not hungry, Cheri. I’ve never eaten so much food.” He laughed.

  “Nor I. I’ll have to be careful. I’ll get fat,” I said, regarding with guilt the full plate of pasta staring at me.

  “You could use a little more weight, darling. You’re actually looking skinnier,” he said, removing his horn-rimmed glasses.

  “There’s heaps here.”

  “No, seriously, I’m not hungry. Don’t let me stop you. Please eat,” he said, with a gentle nod.

  As I swallowed a forkful of pasta, my stomach groaned in appreciation. I was hungry. I’d had no breakfast because I’d slept in and had to rush to work.

  “How’s the cataloguing going?” I asked, chewing away.

  “Awfully well. Charging through it. Love it. The best job I’ve ever had—left alone to muse over a most wondrous collection of books. It’s hard to fathom how vast and varied it is. I’m told an eccentric film producer in the 1930’s was a committed collector. He did a fine job too.” He sipped at his tea. “Greta tells me that Aidan has also bought a few original editions at various auctions and estates so that it keeps growing. She even intimated that I may be asked to do some procuring.” My father’s eyes glowed with childish wonder.

  “Oh, really?” I said, overcome with a swelling of respect for my handsome lover. “I wasn’t aware that Aidan bought books as well. I suppose it makes sense. He’s a keen buyer of art.”

  “Does he do the buying, or has he an advisor?”

  “No. Aidan goes to the auctions himself. His cultural education came the pure way. One year spent in Europe visiting galleries.”

  He nodded, looking notably impressed. “Then he’s got impeccable taste. I haven’t observed anything past 1930. Not one skerrick of post-modernism anywhere.”

  As I chuckled, I decided not to mention that Aidan’s apartment in Venice had more than its fair share of modernist art.

  It was a joy hanging out with my dad, marveling at the flowers, butterflies, and abundant bird life. My dad had always been a calming influence on me.

  “Doesn’t it seem like we’ve traveled back in time, sitting here?” I said.

  “Indeed, very European. There’s an original Brueghel here, you realize.”

  “I know. I spotted it on my first day at work,” I said, recalling my sense of wonder.

  Against a background of insects and birds buzzing, I finished off my lunch.

  After I wiped my mouth, I said, “I’ve heard that you and Greta…” My face heated up. This was not an easy subject for us.

  “Yes, we’re together,” my father replied with a shy, tight smile.

  “You look really great, Daddy. It’s the best I’ve seen you in years. And I like Greta. She’s a good woman.”

  “She likes you too.” In a rare show of emotion, my father’s eyes had a watery film. I hugged him as my eyes misted over. I wanted to tell him about Aidan but wasn’t sure how to broach it.

  “Dad, I need to tell you something also,” I said self-consciously.

  “If it’s about you and Aidan, darling, I’m already aware,” he said, reaching into his jacket pocket for his pipe.

  My brows met. “Did Greta tell you?”

  “No. Aidan did,” he replied dryly.

  “He did?” My voice hit a high note. I collected myself. “He mentioned you had suggested a couple of books. That’s all.”

  “Yes. And he slipped me an excellent bottle of single malt. He’s a lovely man. Very handsome.” My father nodded. “You’ll make a striking couple.”

  “Well, let’s not jump the gun, Daddy. I mean it’s early days.” My heart pounded anyhow.

  He smoked his pipe and looked out at the grounds.

  “What did he say exactly, then?” I asked.

  “Not much, only that he was crazy about you and that he’d protect you.” He regarded me warmly. “That’s music to a father’s ear. Especially coming from someone like Aidan,” he said, pausing for another puff. “He’s a decent man, has a kind heart. He’s been through a lot.”

  “Did he speak about his days as a soldier?”

  He nodded slowly. “He did a little. But I could see it in his eyes. I gleaned the same haunted expression as in my brother’s eyes after Vietnam.”

  A shiver ran through me. I’d seen it too. Tossed about in an undertow of emotion, I was flooded by pity. My heart hurt all of a sudden.

  “Are you all right, love?” He touched my arm.

  “Sure, Daddy. Everything’s fine. How could it not be?” I glanced down at my watch. “I’d best be getting back. Got a fair bit to do.”

  In truth, I needed to be alone with my thoughts for a moment. I hugged my father.

  “Let’s do this again,” he said, smiling brightly.

  “Yes, of course, Daddy. It will be like old times. Only our living arrangements have somewhat improved.”

  He kissed me on the cheek. “Don’t worry about anything, my petite belle. I’m sure your mother would approve.

  When I returned to the office Greta was there. She greeted me warmly. “Did you enjoy your lunch?”

  “It was yummy, thank you. The pasta was amazing. Will’s cooking will be my undoing.” I touched my tummy.

  She pulled back her head, frowning. “You’re very slender Clarissa.”

  I smiled.

  Greta hovered. “Did your father mention that we’ve been spending time together?”

  “He did, Greta, I’m so pleased for both of you. It’s the best I’ve seen my father since my mother…” Unsure how much father had actually revealed of his earlier life, I stopped myself.

  Her face softened. “Thank you for telling me that.” Her earlier frown faded into a faint, uncertain smile. I’d seen the same tentative glint in Aidan’s eyes, and in his father’s. The Thornhills were a sensitive lot.

  Greta switched back to business mode. “Oh, by the way, Bryce Beaumont is on the warpath. You may get a call. The account’s overdrawn again.”

  “So what do I say if he calls?” A shiver ran through me at the thought of dealing with Bryce.

  “Tell him I’m waiting to hear from Aidan,” Greta said, shaking her head. “He’s hopeless.”

  “Why does Aidan put up with him?” Yet again that question.

  “He threatens to cause trouble for Aidan, something that happened in the army. Instead of dealing with it, which is what I’ve suggested, Aidan keeps Bryce close by paying him off.” Greta’s response brought with it a dark cloud.

  Suddenly, my lunch sat uncomfortably in my gut. Hell, talk about vicissitudes. One moment, I was soaring hig
h in a seemingly endless turquoise sky; the next, I was scrambling on barren ground clutching at crumbs of information.

  “Oh,” Greta said as she was leaving, “should I arrange for the stylist to organize a gown for the ball?”

  “I’d go shopping, only…” This was sticky. I’d spent all my monthly allowance. Greta tilted her head. “Only?”

  Paranoid that I was emulating Bryce’s vampiric habits by taking advantage of Aidan’s generosity, my stomach knotted. “If the stylist can do it again, that would be helpful. The blue gown was heavenly.”

  As always, Greta’s intuition was sharp. “Did you get the credit card that Aidan issued for you?”

  I shook my head.

  Greta approached my desk. “There’s an envelope somewhere.” She rustled through the in-tray. “Oh, here it is.” She passed it over.

  I tore open the envelope, and a credit card fell out. “Oh…” I looked up at Greta questioningly.

  “It has no limit.” Her tone was matter-of-fact. “If you want to, you can pop out anytime this week and go shopping for that gown. That’s unless you want the stylist. It’s your call.”

  “Oh… okay. I see,” I stammered.

  “And Clarissa, I’ve never seen Aidan happier. He’s a generous soul, sometimes to a fault. Aidan would want you to have the best. He can afford it.”

  My mouth opened, but nothing came out except a thin “Thanks.”

  CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

  AIDAN

  Blood coursed through my veins as I stared at the image Clarissa had sent me. She was dressed in red lace and posing on her stomach. Despite her mouth-watering curves it was her face that fired my cock, which had gone rock hard.

  I needed to feel her in the flesh. This was torture.

  We’d Skyped every night. That night had been particularly steamy. My voice was captured in my throat as she unbuttoned her shirt, and instead of a bra, Clarissa appeared naked. I had to undo my jeans. The ache was so severe my balls had gone blue. Heavy-lidded, Clarissa had that erotic glint in her eyes.

  The phone buzzed, startling me.

  Down to earth with a thud—it was Bryce. I was worn out after another huge day. There had been long meetings where I had to grapple with technical jargon that was tantamount to learning a new language. It had been stimulating nevertheless. Maybe I was atoning for my misspent youth because I had become a serious knowledge junky.

  I took a long slug of bourbon. Bryce brought the wild beast out in me. I just wanted to pummel the bastard. “Bryce.”

  “How are the German girls? I hear they’re wild over there.” Off to a crude start as usual.

  “Haven’t noticed,” I replied coldly.

  “Can’t say I’m surprised. That Clarissa’s one fucking hot chick,” he said, making it sound as if he’d seen her naked. I wanted to kill the fucker. My knuckles stretched to the limit.

  “Listen you, sleazy prick, I don’t want her name passing your greasy lips.”

  He laughed. My involvement with this devil dressed up as a man grated on me day and night. Something had to give. This would not continue.

  “I need some cash. Greta’s holding back. And another thing—your sexy little girl turned up a few weeks ago with an accounting system I really can’t be bothered with. There are better things to do with my time.”

  “Yeah, I can imagine,” I replied sarcastically. “Hanging around slot machines and late-night card games can be a time-consuming.” I exhaled deeply. “The fund is being starved too quickly. I hear that the clubhouse is run down. The gala nights are there to bankroll the charity and ensure that everyone receives proper care. The facilities are for those in need. You’re aware of that. You’re the fucking CEO. The charity is not there for your gambling and cocaine habit, Bryce.”

  “I take sniff and like to gamble. At least it eases my PTSD. You can say you’re giving me charity as well.” Bryce chuckled.

  “I think I’ve given you at least one million, over and above the generous wage you’re paid. It’s got to stop. The only money you’ll have access to from now on is your wage. The club’s finances will be handled at our end.”

  “That’s fucking unfair.”

  “I have nothing further to say on the matter.”

  Bryce puffed out smoke. “We’ll talk about this again. In the meantime, can you tell Greta to put some funds into my account by tomorrow?”

  “It won’t be much. Start exercising restraint. This is the last time.”

  “I haven’t told you this yet, but apart from being the only other person who knows about Ben, I know how you got your first million.”

  My chest tightened. Stolen of breath, I struggled for air. It was lucky that we were on the phone because had Bryce been in front of me, I’d have given the game away. “You’ve got no proof.”

  “Oh, I have proof all right. Remember Johnno Boy?”

  I sat down. “What about him?”

  “I know about the safety deposit key. And that it was missing. Johnno was there when they searched Benji’s locker, Aidan.”

  Clearing my throat, I replied, “It has nothing to do with me.”

  “Then how did you get all that cash to go to Europe for a year, not to mention the windfalls on the stock market? It’s public record. Everyone knows you made your money on stocks. I’m only telling you this because we’re sewn at the hip. And you owe me big time, Aidan, so make that call to Greta. I want a hundred thousand deposited into the fund. The place needs a little renovating. Some of the guys have offered to paint it.

  “They can bill us direct. In the meantime, I’ll instruct Greta to deposit ten thousand into your personal account. After that, you’re on your own. I want you out, Bryce,” I said, raising my voice.

  “Aidan, don’t forget you could do time with the information I’m holding.”

  “You’re full of shit, Bryce. I’ve got to go.” I cut the call.

  As I poured another drink, I relived the event that had catapulted my life from that of an ordinary, if dysfunctional, nobody to a billionaire who couldn’t go anywhere without the glare of the world.

  Exhaling a slow, long breath, I resumed staring at Clarissa’s photos. I flicked to my most cherished image: that bashful smile, her full breasts spilling out of the tiniest white lace bra, those succulent, rosy nipples piercing through. My cock throbbed so hard that Bryce had perished from my thoughts.

  Now that my nightmares had returned, I was reluctant to sleep. Only in Clarissa’s arms did I sleep peacefully. Was she in communion with an angel spirit who had a purifying effect on my jaded soul? For a non-believer, this was crazy. But my frayed mind needed something to believe in because in the dark of night, away from my busy life and Clarissa’s embrace, I was a crumbling mess.

  I glanced down at my watch and decided I need another hit of Clarissa on Skype.

  “Hey, baby.” I sat up in front of the screen. Clarissa had her hair out looking bone-meltingly ravishing.

  “Aidan, I didn’t expect another call.”

  “I just needed to see you, hear you again.”

  Clarissa’s smile flushed me with warmth. “You don’t seem yourself. Has something happened?” she asked.

  “Bryce is causing trouble again.”

  “He’s a bad sort. Why not give him his marching orders?”

  “It’s complicated,” I said, combing back my hair. It had grown so long. I needed to cut it. But I loved the way Clarissa tangled her fingers through it while in the throes of an orgasm.

  “Tell me about it.” Clarissa sat forward.

  Normally, I’d have gone straight into dirty speak, but my soul ached too much to go there. “I probably shouldn’t have called again, Clarissa. I’m just a little adrift.”

  “I’m glad you did. You can ring me anytime and talk to me about anything, other than”—her lips curled— “sexy things, although, I do like that too.” She spoke all too deliciously.

  Just one little twinkle in those brown eyes, and my cock twitched. “Yeah, we
ll. It’s hard not to be aroused seeing you, Clarissa.” I took a sip of my spirits. “My life seems so fucked-up.”

  “Is it about your days in the service?”

  I nodded slowly. “Uh-huh… tons of skeletons in the cupboard. Not that they’re all from my army days. I already had a few stacking up. Now it’s overflowing.” I laughed nervously.

  “Aidan, I can see it in your eyes. I’ve learnt to recognize it.”

  My brow creased. “You have? Am I that messed-up that I’m wearing it on my sleeve?”

  “No, not all. Aidan, you’re no more messed-up than me or Tabitha.”

  “I don’t know,” I said, combing back my hair, which kept falling back on my face. “Hey, would you mind if I get a haircut? Would you still like me?” I chuckled.

  “I’d like you even if you were bald, although I hope you won’t shave it off. I love it long ala sexy rock star.”

  “Hmm… okay, maybe just a trim, then. I’d hate it if you cut your hair.”

  “I won’t be doing that anytime soon,” said Clarissa with a cute smile. “Anyway, back to what we were talking about. You never told me why you joined the army.” Clarissa adjusted her position. I could now see her upper body, which distracted me as always.

  “That blouse has no buttons, Clarissa.” I purposely tried to sidestep the question.

  Ignoring my saucy digression, Clarissa said, “Tell me, please.”

  I rubbed my eyes. “To run away from my crazy mom.”

  “I know that bit. There seems to be more. You’re carrying something heavy, Aidan.”

  “Education. I joined the army for the education,” I said tentatively, hoping Clarissa wouldn’t ask about my earlier school life.

  “But isn’t it all about combat training?”

  “It’s much more than that. We were encouraged to read books. Development of the intellect is just as important as learning about combat. I learnt to read without distraction. We studied philosophy, psychology, social studies, anthropology… to be honest, that was the best part.”

  Clarissa nodded sympathetically. “I get it. Away from your mother, you could concentrate. It also explains your super intelligence.”