Page 5 of The Forbidden

The first order of business was to nip his insane idea to have me deal with Kat on the winery. “I’m not dealing with your sister. She’s a horse trainer, not a businessperson.”

“She’s smart as hell,” Ethan retorted sharply and while I actually know this about Kat, I’m not about to validate it. “But she won’t be making decisions. Just taking some of the workload off me.”

I don’t want to deal with Kat. She will be a royal pain in my ass and a distraction I don’t need. In the end, I have no choice because Ethan said, “Deal with her or you’ll have to wait until I’m in a position when I have time.”

I suppose it is plausible he’s just too busy but then the next part of the conversation devolved quickly—and that’s how I know he’s avoiding me.

“I would like to see Sylvie,” I requested politely.

“Not going to happen,” Ethan replied, the razor edge to his tone telling me I’d hit directly on his reticence.

“She’s my niece,” I stated evenly. “I love her.”

“Your father tried to kill her,” Ethan barked.

“And I turned him into the police,” I grit out. Ethan remained silent, so I plunged forward. “I’m moving out of their house today. Sylvie has to be very confused, Ethan. She needs to hear the truth from me. She has to understand I was not a part of that and I’ve broken ties with my parents.”

Ethan’s voice conveyed a blend of irritation and defeat. “She knows you turned your father in, Gabe. But that doesn’t change the fact that she needs space from all Mardraggons right now.”

“For how long?” I asked, knowing I couldn’t do a damn thing but abide by whatever he said.

“Until she’s ready. It’s not just me who has a problem with your family. Sylvie is scared. It’s going to take some time.”

“Is she seeing someone? A counselor or therapist?” I’m not a big believer in therapy. I navigated my family’s dysfunction by hardening myself. But Sylvie still has a chance at a normal life, despite the horrors she’s been through.

“Yes, she is. And she’s working through things.”

“I’m willing to go to therapy with her,” I proposed earnestly. “You can be there too. Or at least let me see her in your presence.”

“When she’s ready,” Ethan says, and then adds, “and maybe not even then. I have to be sure about things too and I don’t know if the police have cleared you.”

Hell, I didn’t even know if the police had cleared me yet. They’d swept through the Mardraggon mansion with search warrants and crime scene technicians, pulling out boxes of documents, every computer, tablet and phone in the house. I knew they’d find nothing tying me to any plot to kill Sylvie, but I guess until they officially clear me to Ethan, I won’t be getting anywhere near my niece.

“Kat will reach out to you to go over the winery stuff,” Ethan said. “Make sure you treat her with respect.”

“Or else you’ll kick my ass?” I taunted.

“Don’t have time,” he replied with a snide laugh. “But I’ll send Trey and Wade out to do it. Although now that I think about it, Kat’s more than capable of handing you your own ass.”

Didn’t I know that firsthand?

The conversation ended, but his words lingered, stoking the fire of my determination. I won’t let my father’s sins screw the future I’m trying to build—for Sylvie, for the winery, for me. I press the accelerator, the engine’s roar a defiant cry against blacktop roads.

When I pull up to the house that was just listed for sale three days ago, I don’t give it much of a once-over. I’ve driven by this estate hundreds of times in my life and have always admired the sprawling sixty-two acres that house a seventeen-thousand-square-foot mansion complete with ten bedrooms and eighteen baths, a separate indoor pool house that’s another thirteen thousand square feet, a detached ten-car garage, an eighteen stall barn and four ponds.

It is far more than one man needs, but if there’s one thing the Mardraggons know how to do just as well as making money, that’s spending it. The seven-and-a-half-million-dollar price tag is a bargain, considering the home comes fully furnished.

Jeanette Littleton walks down the porch steps wearing a bloodred skirt suit with black pegged heels. Her hair and makeup have been done to perfection, her long nails the color of her outfit. We exchange greetings and she coolly sweeps her hand toward the front door. “Shall I give you the tour?”

I nod and follow her inside, blown away by the opulence that wasn’t quite translated by the pictures in the official listing.

The entry foyer is an architectural marvel with a grand staircase creating an elegant focal point as it curves gracefully upward. The glossy checkered marble floor reflects the natural light pouring through the floor-to-ceiling windows that offer an uninterrupted view of the estate’s lush grounds.

Beyond the foyer is a luxurious living space, the grandeur amplified by towering columns and a striking mezzanine balcony under which sits a grand piano on a raised dais. Sumptuous armchairs and a sleek glass table suggest a blend of modern comfort with classic style, more suited to my personal tastes.

Jeanette leads me through the house, each room grander than the last. The master suite is a room unlike any I’ve ever seen and I’ve stayed at some of the finest hotels in the world and some of the most expensive homes of billionaire friends. Nothing compares to this lavish space. A four-poster bed anchors the room, surrounded by plump chairs you can sink down into and gleaming rich hardwood floors. Overhead, the ceiling features an intricate coffered design and skylights flood the space with natural light.

More floor-to-ceiling windows framed by crisp plantation shutters maintain the estate’s southern vibe. The color palette is soft and natural with creamy whites, which are a welcome change to the dull gray of the Mardraggon estate. Every detail, from the ornate chandelier to the delicate floral arrangements, speaks to me on a softer level.

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