Page 85 of Inevitable Inheritance

“Hallelujah. What’s the code to get in?”

“Henry knows it. I told him when he had to update the security,” he answered quickly.

“Well, why can’t I know it?” Taylor asked in disgust. Was he really going to keep a stupid code from her? She rolled her eyes and told herself she was being lame—it was just some numbers. “Never mind. It’s fine, I will let you buzz me—”

“No it’s, uh, it’s my birthday and your birthday.”

Now Taylor was silent. Whoa.I wonder when he—It didn’t matter. “Okay, sounds good. I’ll see you in a bit.”

“Okay. Taylor?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks for what you did last night. I mean, I’m still pissed at you, and I still want to talk, but your intentions were good, so, yeah, thank you.”

Taylor smiled slightly, “Anything for you Derrick.”

She could hear the smile in his voice as he answered, “Bye Tay.”

Now it was time to make decisions. She had to do something, and she wasn’t sure Derrick was going to like what she had in mind. But hedidsay she was in charge.

* * *

Derrick had discovereda whole new respect for the weekend since becoming a businessman. When he had been Party Derrick, as he had been dubbed by the tabloids, every day had been a weekend. He was in clubs or at parties every night. Sleeping all day, partying all night, he was the head brother of his own fraternity: Delta Beta Derrick.

Then his dad had come to him and dropped the bomb. Cancer. And it wasn’t responding to the treatment. Just like Mom. Derrick had taken it in and dealt with it the best way he knew how: by going out. The first week he spent drunk, just totally toasted. It helped him to not think about it, to ignore what was happening. But when he finally sobered up and the buzz subsided and he woke with his headache, it was still right there. Being drunk and out hadn’t changed it.

So he spent the next week alone, just thinking, evaluating his life. And when he did go out again, he didn’t drink as much, and it hadn’t been as fun. The goofing off, the flashbulbs, the hooking up with random girls, it all became annoying.

He hadn’t known what to do with his dad’s diagnosis, didn’t know how to feel. Yeah, he loved his dad, but they weren’t the taking father/son fishing trips or playing catch in the yard types. They had never really been close like he and his mom had, and Derrick wanted to change that. So he sobered up, skipped the club for a night, and then it was a week and then a month, and then the guys wanted to know where he was, and random girls were calling, but he couldn’t even remember their faces let alone their names, and he realized he was pissing in the wind.

He had gone for the removal then. The tattoo had run from just under his left ear to his hip; it was big, thick, black, and tribal. It represented that he could do it, and that was all. There was no meaning, no feeling, just a way to defy. He had gotten it the night he stood up Taylor, the night his father had told him to leave her alone, that he wasn’t good enough for her. He didn’t even remember getting it, he had been so drunk.

It had taken months of sessions, but the tattoo was gone. Now there were just a few lingering lines and one tattoo left intact under his arm, but he left those. He left the lines to remind him that defiance only hurt him, and the tattoo was a reminder to keep working for what was important. Once the tattoo was gone he had asked his dad for a chance at the business. Simon had been over the moon to let him have it.

Then Derrick got his own place. He had lived at home throughout his partying days; his father had refused to grant him the income for a party house. But when he started working, started earning his own money and proving himself, he had decided he needed a place. It was a way to reward himself, to show himself and his father and anyone else watching that he was capable. So he had bought the penthouse. The huge two-story, open floor plan penthouse that was large enough for a family of eight. It was too big for one, but he had never intended to live in it alone. He knew exactly who he wanted living there with him.

And when he had bought it eight months ago, he hadn’t thought twice when they said he needed an eight-digit code to get in. His birthday and Taylor’s, that he could remember no problem. Now he was home, and Taylor was coming “home.” It was everything he had hoped for when he had bought the house.

He was getting fidgety waiting for her. It had been over four hours since they spoke, and he decided to shower for the second time today. Anything to kill more time and not pace around.

When he finished the shower and came back out of his bedroom, the smell of Italian food hit him. His stomach growled in angst. He hadn’t eaten much all day, and he was ready. He walked down the stairs and watched as Taylor pushed a large pan of lasagna back into the oven.

She looked up and smiled shyly. “Hi,” she said, then gestured to the lasagna and shrugged. “Nothing says I’m sorry like lasagna from scratch.”

“I’m impressed, Preston. It smells awesome.” Derrick looked at her and decided hangovers agreed with her. Her blond hair looked gorgeous. She wore it down, curled in soft ringlets, and she had on just a little makeup to accent her awesome cheekbones and make her beautiful eyes pop. An apron covered her, but she was wearing a belted dress underneath.

“It needs another twenty minutes, and then it needs to sit,” she said, breaking eye contact with him and then turning to put bread into the oven beside the large pan. “Hardest part was getting Nan to let me work in the kitchen.”

“Taylor,” Derrick said, “we need to talk.”

“Over dinner, Derrick.”

Derrick relented. She was just putting off the inevitable, but he could spare it for a few more minutes. He took up residence on one of the stools at the island and enjoyed the view of Taylor cleaning the counters and setting up plates for them. It looked so domestic, so normal. And it turned him on, big time. Who would have thought the man who could have everything would be turned on by a woman performing home cooking and setting the table.

Taylor looked up as she wiped the counter and took a deep breath. “Look, I guess I should apologize about last night.”

Derrick raised an eyebrow. This was certainly unexpected; he was prepared to fight and argue about the stunt she had pulled. Well, if she was going to offer it up, he was going to enjoy it. Leaning back in his chair, he pursed his lips. “What part, exactly, are you apologizing for?”

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