Essence of the Witch

by Deanna Chase

  A moment later the lock clicked, and without so much as a knock, Gideon stormed in.

  His father didn’t even look up as he barked, “Kim, I told you I don’t want to be disturbed.”

  “Kim isn’t here,” Gideon said, his voice laced with unmistakable rage.

  “Gideon?” Throm Alexander jerked his head up to stare at his son. “How did you get in here?”

  Gideon scoffed. “Not why are you here? Or what’s wrong? Just how did you get in here?”

  Throm closed the laptop that sat on his desk and rose from his chair. He was dressed impeccably as usual, but his hair was in need of a trim and he looked as if he hadn’t shaved in three days. In other words, for the meticulous Throm Alexander, he was downright disheveled. “I’m just surprised. Are you home to spend the holidays with me and your stepmother? Because she’s already in Costa Rica. I stayed behind to finish working on a project. I don’t know yet if I’ll be able to meet up with her—”

  “Cut the crap. I know that Cherise left you and that she isn’t in Costa Rica. She’s in San Diego living with her mother because you cut her off.”

  Throm’s eyes narrowed. “Where did you hear that?”

  “Does it matter, father?” he asked. “It’s the truth isn’t it? Just like it’s the truth that she left you because you’re having an affair with a certain young actress.” His father’s philandering and cheating was enough to piss him off on any random day, but it wasn’t the real reason he was standing in his father’s office shaking. He was still working his way up to the big confrontation.

  “My personal life is my business. Cherise wanted to wait until after the holiday to say anything, and I support her choice,” his father said stiffly.

  It didn’t escape Gideon’s notice that he hadn’t defended himself on the affair accusation. He decided to let that one go and said, “Sure. It’s what Cherise wanted. Is she the one who wanted you to single-handedly fund Miranda Moon’s movie, Witching for You?”

  Throm’s expression turned completely blank, and Gideon knew that was his father’s way of icing him out. “Cherise doesn’t have anything to do with my business decisions. You know that.”

  “Right. Despite the fact that she was a successful director for ten years before you two married, her opinion never was welcome. That’s some effed-up shit, Dad. Cherise is going to win an Oscar one day, and you won’t have any part of it.”

  Throm sniffed, dismissing Gideon’s statement. “What did you come here for, Gideon?”

  Gideon tossed the file on his father’s desk and jerked his head at it as the pictures and documents slipped out. “Seems you’ve been keeping some family secrets.”

  His father’s cool façade disappeared as shock made his eyes widen and his mouth open.

  It was an expression Gideon was certain he’d never seen his father wear before. “I guess we finally know why you really divorced my mother and punished her by keeping her tied up in court for years just because she had the audacity to seek affection you were never willing to give.”

  “Your mother cheated on me,” he said defensively.

  Gideon didn’t dispute that fact, but he’d always been willing to bet his entire fortune on the fact that his father had cheated first. The man hadn’t been faithful to any of his other three wives, so why should his mother have been any different? Sadly, he’d never get her side of the story since she’d passed away over a decade ago. “And the end result of that affair was me, right?”

  “So, what if you were? From the moment you were born, you were my son. Biology doesn’t matter,” Throm insisted.

  “No? If it doesn’t matter, why did you go to such great lengths to pay people off to keep their mouths shut? And why did you work so hard to keep Miranda’s book from being published? She doesn’t know you’re not my blood father. I don’t understand why that book was such a threat to you.”

  The information Baker dug up involved records of payoffs and nondisclosure agreements around some mysterious news story. He’d used his contacts in the industry to finally learn that when Miranda’s deal was announced, another reporter had gone all-in on learning about the leading man behind the story. When they learned Gideon was the son of a powerful Hollywood producer, they began digging.

  And that’s when they found out that Throm wasn’t Gideon’s biological father. That his mother had cheated on Throm with his best friend. Just before the story was to break, Throm paid a bunch of people off and did everything he could to get Miranda’s production deal axed.

  In the grand scheme of things, an affair and a secret baby in Hollywood was just another day’s news. No one would talk about it for long, but Gideon knew Throm’s ego was far too fragile. He wouldn’t put up with any sort of humiliation. So he’d done what he always did; he manipulated the situation for his own satisfaction. But Gideon still didn’t understand why the book was such a big deal.

  Throm’s entire body tensed as he curled his hands into fists. “That was an embarrassment Ace Media could not afford to weather back then. Your girlfriend’s book invited questions I didn’t want to answer.”

  Gideon snorted. “The joke’s on you. No one came around asking any questions after it hit the bestseller lists.”

  Throm’s eyebrows raised. “You really think that? Do you want to see the checks I wrote to keep reporters quiet? The records are out there Gideon. Why do you think I divorced your mother? I found out when you were in high school after a routine physical. Blood types don’t lie. And health professionals, the unethical kind, talk.”

  “So you’ve been spending all kinds of money to keep this secret. Why? I don’t really get it. Mom is gone. I’m a grown-ass man. I’ve been working for Ace for fifteen years. What difference does it make? Is your ego that fragile—”

  “Don’t be so naïve, Gideon,” he snapped, his eyes going slightly wild. “Your mother cheated to get back at me for my… ah, indiscretions. A few of them ended in false accusations, one in particular with a moderately powerful politician’s daughter. If that came out… Ace would’ve been ruined. I did what I had to do.”

  “False accusations? What does that mean?” Gideon felt sick to his stomach. Was his father trying to tell him he had his own #metoo scandal just waiting to break? “What did you do?” he demanded.

  “Nothing. I’ve only ever been in consensual situations. But when you have money and power, sometimes women lie. You know how it is.”

  “No, I don’t know how it is, Dad.” He wanted to bolt, get as far away from this man as possible. All of the lies and justifications and doubts were too overwhelming. “So this was always about protecting you and your problematic sexual exploits. It has nothing to do with the fact that I’m not biologically your son.”

  “It’s both. Those are scandals we don’t need.”

  “So you’ve said. Is that why you’ve changed the script for Witching for You so much? So that the story will be more about Cory than me, and there will be less chance of people trying to dig into my family history?”

  “Yes. This has always been about protecting what is ours,” he said. “If Miranda hadn’t written a book about you, none of this would’ve been necessary.”

  “You mean if you hadn’t harassed a politician’s daughter none of this would’ve been necessary,” Gideon countered.

  “I didn’t harass anyone,” Throm shouted. “See? This is exactly why none of those accusations can come out. My own son doesn’t even believe me.”

  Gideon stared at the man he’d wanted to please his entire life and just felt disgusted. It wasn’t a huge leap to believe he’d been inappropriate with women. The man was a powerful Hollywood executive. There was a culture of women and money and power. His father had been at the helm of it for years. In fact, he’d heard his share of inappropriate comments from the man over the years and cringed every time. What had happened behind closed doors, Gideon couldn’t say, but one thing he did know was that Throm Alexander always expected to get whatever he wanted. “Just tell
me one thing.”

  “What?” Throm asked, sounding tired.

  “Why didn’t you just buy the film rights to Witching for You and then bury it? Why produce it as something it isn’t?”

  “Believe me, I tried. But Miranda wouldn’t let us buy the rights. I bid for them numerous times. And Witching Hour was going to go ahead with or without me, so I put up all the money in order to get control. And Miranda’s contract with Witching Hour doesn’t allow her any influence about the content or the production.”

  Gideon shook his head. “You’ve really made a mess for yourself. What exactly do you think is going to happen if this news breaks?”

  Throm sat back in his chair and ran a nervous hand through his salt-and-pepper hair. “You’ve seen what happens these days with these kinds of accusations. Ace Media will be blackballed.”

  “You mean you’ll be blackballed,” Gideon said, pressing both hands down on his father’s desk. “Listen to me and listen carefully. I’m officially resigning from Ace Media today unless you step down, effective immediately.”

  “What?” Throm stood so quickly his chair toppled over behind him. “You can’t threaten me. Ace Media is my company.”

  “Technically, it’s our company.” Gideon had earned a substantial amount of stock shares on his ten-year anniversary with the company. But he didn’t care about that. He cared about the employees and wanted to make sure they didn’t lose their jobs when his father was exposed. Because he had no doubt that eventually he would be.

  “I’m not resigning,” Throm insisted.

  “Fine. Then I quit. Good luck.” He started to move toward the door but then stopped and turned back to his father. “Withdraw your investment in Witching for You, or I’ll go to the press myself.”

  His father’s face turned bright red, and Gideon was certain steam would start shooting out of his head at any moment. “You will not do that.”

  “How are you going to stop me this time? Miranda’s movie is happening whether either of us want it to or not. And I’m quitting anyway. I just don’t see the leverage.”

  “I’ll find a way to smear your girlfriend’s name,” he threatened.

  That rage that Gideon had finally contained came roaring back. “If you even think about doing that, the war is on. I’ll call everyone I know in the media and give interviews for the next two years. This will never end, and eventually your accusers will stream out of the woodwork. Stay away from me and Miranda, and we’ll stay away from you. That’s the deal.”

  “I’ll cut you off,” Throm said.

  Gideon let out a full-throated laugh. He couldn’t care less. “I have my own money. I don’t need yours.”

  “I have ten times your wealth,” his father insisted.

  Gideon shrugged. That was the truth, but what his father never understood was that Gideon just didn’t care. All he’d ever really wanted was Miranda and, as a young man, his father’s approval. He’d done what was expected of him back then. Now he was doing what was right. “Keep it. I don’t want it.”

  Without another word, he strode out of his father’s office, took a few moments to warn Kim and Lenora that they might want to look for new employment before the shit hit the fan, and then made a few calls to start his transition from Hollywood to Keating Hollow. It was time to go home to Miranda.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Miranda paced her small cottage and idly wondered if it was actually possible to wear a path in the floor. Gideon had been gone for three days, and all she’d gotten were a couple of texts letting her know he was wrapping something up and that he’d be back in Keating Hollow as soon as possible.

  “What the hell does ‘as soon as possible’ mean?” she asked no one. “Four days? Two weeks? Six months?” She let out a groan and ran up the stairs to drown out her thoughts under the hot spray of the shower.

  When she was dressed, hair done, and makeup applied, she looked at her phone for the thousandth time that day and wanted to throw it across the room when there weren’t any new messages. She needed to get out of the cabin. If she were a stronger woman, she’d leave the phone behind so she’d stop staring at it, but there were still some details to be worked out for the Christmas ball, and she didn’t want to miss any calls.

  Bundled in her wool coat, fur-lined boots, and matching hat and scarf, she made her way outside to her Mercedes. The snow was long gone, but the temperatures had stayed just above freezing, which was somewhat unusual for Keating Hollow in December, or so she’d been told.

  On the way to town, she called Cameron. He was staying in Keating Hollow until it was time to start filming his next movie, and the two had become close. Writing and selling a television script together would do that to people.

  “What’s up?” he said when he answered. “Has your man shown up yet?”

  “No,” she huffed out. “And I need some muscle. Can you meet me at the Pelshes’ winery? I want to get started on the decorations.”

  He let out a fake huff of annoyance. “This is what it’s come to, huh? I’m your backup? What if I strain a muscle? Are you going to massage it for me? Kiss it and make it better?”

  “Shut up,” she ordered. “If you break yourself, I’ll make you an appointment at the spa. Can you meet me or not?”

  “Yeah. Sure. But bring me a double latte. I need a pick-me-up,” he said.

  “I’ll do better than that. I’ll bring pastries, too.”

  “Did I ever tell you how much I love you, Miranda Moon?” he teased.

  “Yep. Yesterday when I gave you my coffee cake. I like that your needs are pretty simple. Pastries and caffeine. We’re a match made in heaven, where we both weigh twice our fighting weight.”

  He chuckled. “But we’ll be burning calories today, so it’s fine. Even better than fine. It’s almost mandatory.”

  She rolled her eyes, even though he couldn’t see her, and said, “I’m stopping at Incantation Café now. See you in fifteen.”

  With coffee and treats in hand, Miranda made her way into the event hall at the Pelsh winery. It was a large, open space designed to be used for weddings and other large parties. It conveniently had a kitchen at one end and dressing rooms at the other. The decorations had already been started, and thousands of sparkling stars hung down from the ceiling.

  The tree was the big thing she wanted to get done that day. It was also the one thing she hadn’t been willing to delegate. She had specific ideas of what she wanted it to look like. Elegance was mandatory, but she also wanted it to feel personalized for the town.

  Miranda disappeared into one of the dressing rooms and found the bags she was looking for. The decorations had all been delivered earlier in the week, but she hadn’t had the time or the will to do anything about it. Since the ball was just a couple of days away, it was time to stop procrastinating.

  When she returned to the ballroom, she spotted Cameron eyeing the progress. Red cloth-covered tables had been set up around the perimeter of the room. The vases for the centerpieces were there, but the Christmas bouquets wouldn’t show up until the day of the event. A mural had been painted on one of the walls that depicted the town in all its Christmas glory, and the snowmen were already in place, though they had yet to be spelled to dance on their own. There was no need to expend that much energy when it could be done the night before.

  “Hey,” she said, nodding to the latte in his hand. “Looks like you found your fuel.”

  He grinned. “It was like a homing beacon. I swear, I walked in without any conscious thought and went straight for it.”

  “Right. I’m sure it helped that it was on the table closest to the door,” she said, handing him one of the bags. “Come on, muscles. Let’s get to work.”

  After downing his latte and eating two slices of coffee cake, Cameron started to help Miranda put the small, framed-picture ornaments on the tree. Each one was a recent picture of one of the town’s businesses all spruced up for the holiday.

  “This is a nice touch,�
� Cameron said. “I bet the business owners and residents are going to love this.”

  “I hope so. I’m pretty much the resident newbie, so I’m kinda flying by the seat of my pants here and trying to decide what might win them over.”

  “I think as long as you provide booze and Christmas cookies, you likely can’t go wrong,” he said with a wink.

  He was probably right, but Miranda was still nervous about planning the ball without much input. The committee had helped make the big decisions like where to hold the event, but beyond that, they’d left it in her hands. What could she say? She just wanted to make a good impression.

  They spent the next few hours decorating the giant tree, and Miranda was just about ready to call it a day when she heard footsteps behind her.

  “Hey, you,” a familiar male voice said.

  Her skin tingled the way it always did when Gideon was near. She spun around, spotted him, and immediately threw her arms around him. “You’re back!”

  He gathered her up and held her close, almost as if he’d been desperate to get her back into his arms. She loved that he didn’t have any reservations, and she pressed her lips to his neck, just happy to have him home.

  Home. Had she really just thought that? He’d never said he was moving to Keating Hollow. But damn, she wanted that. She wanted it more than she’d ever wanted anything.

  “I have news,” she blurted as she pulled back.

  “So do I,” he said, smiling down at her. “But you go first.”

  She grinned up at him and then cast a glance over her shoulder. “Cameron got us a deal for our television series. It’s supposed to go into production sometime next year. If it gets a good reception, they want a season two.”

  His face lit up with excitement. “That’s wonderful, Mandy. Who ordered the shows?”

  “Only the number one streaming service in the country,” she said, beaming with pride. “Can you believe it?”