Page 4 of Seeds of Malice

My life suddenly seems full of hope. I'm going to make it my mission to run into this girl.

My boredom's over.

I have a new project.

Her.

1

Ivy Ford

"So this is Greenwich, Connecticut," I mutter.

I stare around the cottage again and then glance out the window at the huge estate.

This is the first time I've seen so much acreage belonging to one family. Sure, West Virginia has lots of land, but more than one family owns it.

I spot my father near a greenhouse several hundred yards away. His smile's back on his face. I haven't seen it in a while; not since before my mom disappeared. She wanted a better life than my father could give us in West Virginia. So it's ironic that now we're in Greenwich, an uppity place full of money and power.

At least that's what my father says about the town. He claimed my mother would've loved it here, but in my mind, I doubt she'd be happy. It still wouldn't have been good enough for her.

Since she left, we've yet to hear from her. It's been over four years. I try not to think about it, but seeing the glow in his expression for the first time in a long time makes me happy.

He's always loved flowers and gardening. He's a botanist and specializes in making different hybrids of flowers. So when the Carrington family was looking for someone to replace their old botanist, my father jumped at the chance.

When he told me he got hired, I didn't want to move. Unlike my mother, I was happy in our West Virginia town. A few months ago, I graduated high school. I had a job lined up and had enrolled for the fall semester at the community college to follow in my father's footsteps. It would take me longer since I couldn't afford to attend school full-time, but I was okay with it.

Last week, my father told me about his new job, including an all-expenses paid spot for me at Clifton University. It's like miracles were happening all around us, so I wasn't going to complain about moving out of state.

Now, we're here. But I'm not free of worry. The size of the property makes me think my father will work too hard. He has a heart condition, and they shocked him back to life last year. He seems to be doing okay, and the doctor said his heart's like new, but he's all I've got. So I'll always worry about him.

I tear my eyes off the lawn and focus on the inside of our new home. I have two weeks until school begins, and while I'd love to take a dip in one of the several pools that dot the estate, or explore the dozens of gardens, there's too much to do. And there's no way I'll let my father have more work to do with unpacking.

I open another box, and a song I know comes on the radio. I start to sing when I'm suddenly startled.

A male voice shouts, "Anyone here?"

I spin, and my heart beats so fast I think it might pound through my chest.

A beautiful man stands in front of me. His dark hair has a few expertly positioned blond highlights in it. His cheekbones are perfectly sculpted. Dimples dent both sides of his rough lips, and his light eyes have a hint of blue, but they're almost see-through. He's mesmerizing. His manicured goatee and boyish grin frame his gleaming white teeth. And his arms are built but not overdone.

I squeeze my legs together and question, "Sorry, who are you?"

His grin widens. "I'm Dax."

"Dax?" I question, my face burning.

He's gorgeous.

He saunters toward me, and my pulse beats in my neck. He holds out his hand. "Yeah. I'm Dax, the oldest of the Carrington children."

"Oh, hi. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be rude." I wipe my sweaty palm on my shorts and take his hand.

He wraps his large fingers around mine and holds longer than normal; at least, I think it's longer than normal.

He sizes me up in a semi-lewd way, which should turn me off, but it doesn't. He asks, "And what's your name?"

"Oh, I'm sorry. I'm Ivy. My dad's?—"

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