The Rebel Heir

by Niobia Bryant

  He broke my heart.

  She turned and leaned her buttocks against the counter.

  He accused me of wanting more with Warren.

  She took another sip.

  And said I was being cruel to Warren.

  Another sip.

  And cut me loose as if I would ever hurt him.

  And another.

  Her emotions swelled as she remembered the look on Cole’s face when he’d agreed that she should leave. Betrayals were difficult—whether done by someone else or self-inflicted when ignoring a resolve not putting one’s heart on the line again.

  Jillian felt foolish for giving her power away. She tipped her head back to empty the glass before looking into its emptiness and feeling a kinship. Her tears replaced the wine. They fell with far too much ease.

  And that, too, felt like a betrayal.

  With a cry that was as jagged as the cuts to her heart, she gripped the glass before throwing it against the wall to shatter.

  Eleven

  All five Cress brothers were sitting in the den of the family townhouse. There was no staff. The kitchen, living room and dining room were empty. Silence ruled the room.

  Phillip Junior paced in front of the elaborate fireplace, lit to help heat the room.

  Sean chuckled at videos on his cell phone as he lounged near the closed patio doors.

  Gabe refilled his brandy snifter from atop the wide glass-and-brass bar beneath the seventy-inch television on the wall.

  Lucas lounged in one of the light gray suede chairs as he texted away on his phone.

  Cole eyed them from where he leaned against the entryway between the den and dining room.

  “Does anyone know what this meeting is about?” Phillip Junior asked.

  Cole and Gabe shared a look.

  Lucas frowned, looking up just as they did. “Care to share?” he asked, his voice as deep as his brothers’ and father’s.

  That drew the curious stares of the other Cress brothers.

  “Maybe they’re ready to announce the new CEO,” Phillip Junior said, sounding hopeful.

  Sean leaned forward to set his elbows atop his knees as he looked from Cole to Gabe. “Did you get it?” he asked Gabe, speaking everyone’s awareness that the middle child—the good one—was favored for the position.

  “Remember, I made it clear I don’t want it,” Gabe said before glancing at his watch. “My restaurant and the position I have at the company is enough on my plate.”

  All eyes landed on Cole.

  “Really?” he asked in disbelief. “Me? Don’t be foolish.”

  “Right.” Phillip Junior looked reassured by the reminder that Phillip Senior and Cole had a turbulent relationship.

  Cole frowned. Deeply. “I would point out the disgust I feel for you enjoying that I don’t have the greatest relationship with our father, but you have enough to tackle tonight, big brother,” he said, glancing at his watch.

  “What the hell does that mean?” Phillip Junior exclaimed.

  “Cole,” Gabe intervened.

  Footsteps echoed throughout the house. The men all shifted their gaze as their mother and father crossed the kitchen and stepped into the stylish den. Nicolette gave them each a soft smile, looking pretty and regal in the fuchsia pantsuit she wore with her hair pulled back into a low ponytail. In his three-piece suit, Phillip Senior’s face seemed more severe as he placed an arm around his wife’s shoulders and pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

  “We have some news to share...” their father began, his British accent echoing.

  If it were at all possible for a room to become more silent, then that best described the environment. Cole looked down at the tip of polished handmade boots as he awaited the reaction of his brothers.

  “It has been brought to our attention that when I was eighteen, I unknowingly fathered a child,” Phillip Senior said, sticking to his no-nonsense persona. “A son.”

  And, like the Fourth of July, the questions and exclamations fired off like fireworks in rapid succession.

  “What!” Lucas said, his eyes wide and confused.

  “Are you serious?” Sean asked.

  Phillip Junior threw his hands up in the air. “What does this mean for Cress, INC.?”

  “Ça suffit!” Nicolette exclaimed.

  Cole, like Gabe, remained silent. He looked on as his brothers sat, expressions full of shock, as their mother pressed a hand to their father’s chest when he clutched her closer to him.

  Phillip Senior pressed another kiss to his wife’s brow before releasing her to move into the center of the room and boldly eyeing each of his sons. “Yesterday, a preliminary DNA was done and the results came in today,” he said. “So far, it has confirmed he is, indeed, my son. Your family. And once the results of the court-approved DNA results return in the next few days, he will also be an heir.”

  This time his words brought silence. It was stiff. And awkward. And uneasy.

  Even Cole took a beat to accept his father’s declaration. He had never assumed his father would turn over a key to the kingdom with such ease for a man he’d never known.

  “Just like that?” Phillip Junior asked, his jaw stiffening.

  “Absolutely, son,” Phillip Senior said with a stern expression as he looked at him. “Maybe more so than any of you.”

  Cole’s eyes pierced his profile.

  “What does that mean?” Gabe asked, breaking his silence.

  Phillip Senior shifted his stance. “You have all benefitted from the legacy your mother and I created. It has served each of you well. He received nothing from me and did it all on his own,” he said, with a rare reveal of emotion.

  That surprised Cole. And rattled him a bit.

  Displays of affection from their father were only doled out to their mother once the brothers had become young men. With Phillip Senior, there had been nothing but sternness and a steadfast desire to raise men.

  “I never turned my back on any of my sons, and I won’t do it now,” Phillip Senior said before looking directly at Cole. “None of you.”

  “And is this stranger eligible to be the new CEO of Cress, INC.?” Phillip Junior asked, sounding accusatory.

  Phillip Senior turned his head to look at him. “‘Stranger’?” he said, his voice filling with coldness. “He is your brother. The same as all the rest.”

  “I disagree with that,” Phillip Junior said.

  Steps against the hardwood floor suddenly echoed.

  Everyone in the den turned their head just as a man stepped into the room. He was tall, with a shortbread complexion like their own, and a similar face to a twenty-years-younger Phillip Senior.

  Cole recognized him from Bobbie’s report before their father beckoned the man further into the room with a wave of his hand and introduced him.

  “Phillip Junior, Sean, Gabriel, Coleman and Lucas... This is Lincoln Cress. Your brother.”

  * * *

  Jillian pushed up her rarely used spectacles as she gave the sprawling double-height kitchen one last perusal before sliding her cutlery set into her satchel. She was done with her chef duties for the day and ready to get to her tiny apartment for a hot foot soak and then a bubble bath. “ASAP,” she said.

  Bzzzzzz. Bzzzzzz. Bzzzzzz.

  She paused to remove her cell phone from the pocket of her chef’s coat. “Hey, Ma,” she said, tucking the phone between her shoulder and ear as she finished buttoning her overcoat before leaving the empty house via the mudroom.

  She rushed to her beloved Mazda Miata as the brutal northeast winter wind whipped around. She was thankful there was no snow to tackle on her lengthy commute to Manhattan.

  “I’m at the rehab facility with your grandma,” Nora said. “I went to make the monthly payment at the billing office. The account balance had been paid in full
. Did you do it?”

  Jillian was too busy wishing she had cranked the car and warmed it up before getting into it to really pay attention to her mother’s words. “Did I do what, Ma?” she asked as she leaned over to make sure the heat was coming on.

  “Did you pay your grandmother’s bill in full at the rehab facility?” Nora asked.

  Jillian sat straight. “Definitely not,” she said, shifting her eyes to her reflection in the rearview mirror.

  “Maybe it’s an error,” Nora said, sounding concerned.

  “Did you ask them who paid it?” Jillian asked as she reversed Cherry across the paved courtyard and accelerated forward down the long, winding driveway leading to the main road.

  “They said an unidentified benefactor who wished to remain anonymous.”

  Cole.

  “It was Cole,” Ionie said in the background, echoing Jillian’s thought.

  Could he?

  With ease. The sum would be of little consequence to him.

  Would he?

  That was the question.

  Did he?

  She shook her head. Why would he do such a thing when they weren’t even speaking?

  “If it was Cole, then we will have to pay it back,” Jillian insisted.

  “Of course,” Norah agreed. “But still, if it was him, it was a very generous offering. So very gallant.”

  “Gallant?” Jillian drawled.

  “Yes, it seems like the appropriate time to use such a word,” Norah said.

  She chuckled with her mother.

  “Call him. Ask him. And if it was him—thank him, Jillie,” Ionie said, her speech still a little hesitant.

  Jillian pulled to a stop at a red light. She felt nervous at the thought of reaching out to Cole. It was a mix of excitement at hearing his deep voice and fear that he wouldn’t answer. “I’ll call him,” she said. “Let me get back to you, Ma.”

  She ended the call and dropped the phone onto the passenger seat. As she continued her ride home in silence, she thought of every possible scenario of just what might happen when she called him. None of it ended well.

  But why would he pay the bill—if he paid the bill.

  There was only one way to know.

  And I have to know.

  She had not yet struck up the courage to call him by the time she reached home and gave in to her desires for a foot soak. As she drew a hot bubble bath in her claw-foot tub, her eyes kept going to her phone sitting on the edge of the sink. She wanted to talk to Cole.

  And more.

  Maybe we should give each other some space.

  The last words he’d spoken had been enough to keep her from reaching out. She assumed he would decide the space between them was no longer needed. She hoped he would fight for her the same way she had laid her heart out on the line and fought for him. Wooed him. Chased him. Proved she loved him.

  It hurt that he hadn’t reciprocated.

  She eyed the phone again. Curiosity was killing her like the cat. She raised her hand from the water and dried it on the towel hanging over the side before reaching for her phone. Her heart beat so rapidly as she pulled up his contact and dialed his number. She eased her knees up to her chest as the phone started to ring. When it went to voice mail, all of her fears rose along with tears of regret and sadness.

  She set the phone back on the sink and rested the side of her face atop her knees. “To hell with love,” she muttered, lifting a handful of bubbles to her mouth to blow them up into the air.

  Bzzzzzz. Bzzzzzz. Bzzzzzz.

  Her head shot up and she looked over at the screen of her phone. A picture of Cole was on it. She felt excited, like a middle school girl receiving a call from her first crush. And just as nervous.

  She reached for the phone and answered his call. “Hello?” she said, wincing when it came out like the strangled cry of a rooster with a hand around its neck.

  “Jillian?” he said.

  He sounded uncertain even though she was sure her name had displayed on his Caller ID.

  Unless he erased your contact.

  She raised her wet hand to squeeze the space between her eyebrows. “Yes, it’s Jillian. How are you, Cole?” she asked, keeping her tone measured.

  “I’m good. You?”

  Jillian closed her eyes. They sound so formulaic. So awkward. Stilted. So much like strangers than former lovers.

  “Am I bothering you? Are you busy? With work...or someone?” she asked, unable to deny the desire to know if he had completely moved on from her.

  The line went silent.

  With every passing moment, her pulse increased, and her stomach was a pit of growing nerves. “I understand if it’s none of my business—”

  “I’m not seeing anyone,” he said.

  Great.

  “And you?” he added.

  “Do you care if someone else filled the space you asked for?” she asked, instantly regretting letting her hurt lead her.

  “Wow. Really, Jillian?” he asked.

  She sighed. “Look. I didn’t call to argue. My mother says that my grandmother’s bill at her rehab facility has been paid in full,” she said. “I was wondering if it was you that blessed us in such a way?”

  “You never said if you were with someone.” Cole avoided her question. “How’s your bestie anyway?”

  The water had cooled and the bubbles were beginning to fade, so she stood and stepped out of the tub. Water dripped off her curves. “Warren?” she asked as she grabbed a towel to unfold with a snap before she held it in front of her body.

  “Who else?” he drawled.

  Jillian arched a brow. “Still concerned about him?” she shot back in sarcasm.

  He chuckled.

  She did not.

  “About the bill, do I have you to thank for it?” she asked, directing him back to the question he’d evaded.

  Silence.

  “Also, my family and I insist on repaying you, if that’s the case,” Jillian added.

  “I’d prefer to discuss it in person,” he finally said.

  She nodded as she used the side of her hand to wipe away the steam coating the large round mirror over the pedestal sink. In the reflection, her eyes were uneasy. “Uh. Yeah. Sure,” she said. “When?”

  “The sooner, the better.”

  She nodded even though he couldn’t see her. “I’ll be there within the hour,” she said.

  “See you then,” Cole said before ending the call.

  Maybe he wants me to sign a promissory note.

  Her nerves did not abate as she dried off and dressed in an off-the-shoulder black sweater, with leggings and shiny black, thigh-high boots with heels. She took time with her makeup and hair and then put in her contacts instead of donning her spectacles. A faux sable coat, leather gloves and dangling gold necklaces finished her polished look.

  She did not want to look like she felt: single, alone, and hurting from a breakup.

  On the drive to Cole’s part of town, she tried to prepare herself for seeing him again. He was a man with great magnetism. His looks. Those eyes. That body. Cole Cress was stylish and charming. His vibe was the essence of cool-and-in-control. His eyes could pierce with contempt or charm without question.

  When she stepped up to his front door in the hall of the Chelsea apartment building, she truly thought she was prepared to feign nonchalance.

  You got this! You. Got. This.

  The door opened and Cole stood there looking at her, far too handsome in a navy V-necked sweater and matching cords.

  Oh me. Oh my!

  She’d been so wrong. So very wrong.

  “Come in,” he said, stepping back and pulling the door open wider.

  She gave him a smile she hoped wasn’t awkward as she moved past him. The scent of his cool co
logne seemed to surround her and she bit her bottom lip with a wince as she held back a moan of heightened awareness. She jumped when she felt his hands on her shoulders as he helped remove her coat.

  Relax, Jillie. Get it together.

  But it was hard with his fireplace lit, the lights dimmed, and a few fat candles glowing around the room. Add him smelling good and looking good...

  The heat Jillian felt had nothing to do with the fireplace.

  “Hungry? I cooked some dinner,” Cole said, hanging her coat in the closet and then moving into the kitchen.

  That surprised her, but she just nodded as she walked over to the kitchen. “What smells so good?” she asked, acutely aware of feeling awkward and out of place in Cole’s apartment. Somewhere she had once pictured would be her home, as well.

  “What’s wrong?” Cole asked.

  She looked over at him. “Nothing,” she lied. “Why?”

  “You looked sad just then,” he said, pausing in putting on mitts to take something out the oven.

  His eyes stayed locked on her and she shifted under his steady gaze.

  “I’m good,” she said.

  Their eyes met and held.

  Her heart pounded. She felt breathless. Staring into Cole’s eyes, being captivated by him again, was beyond words, thus leaving her speechless.

  “Today I met my half-brother Lincoln,” Cole said, finally offering a reprieve by turning away from her to pull a heavy-duty sheet pan from the oven.

  Her eyes dipped to take in his buttocks.

  “Wait! What?” she asked with two hard blinks as his words registered.

  “When my father was eighteen and about to go off to college, he fathered a son with a young woman. He left England not knowing she was pregnant,” he explained. “And today, we all met him.”

  She watched him as he set the pan of roasted Cornish hens and root vegetables with baby potatoes on the counter. “That must have been a shock. Are you okay?” she asked, having seen the battle of wills and might between father and son when she’d worked for them.

  Cole eyed her again for long unsettling moments before focusing on taking the hens off the pan to rest and trap in the juices. “Yeah,” he said, nodding. “There’s still so much to question and understand, but Lincoln agreed to come back to New York for a little while to give us all time to figure out what it all means for the family. The brothers.”