I grabbed the back of my neck, trying to figure out what to do. There was a chair off to the side. It was the perfect place to wait. But also—it was so far away. What if I couldn’t pick up on the scent there? Or worse, what if my father and brothers followed me and dragged me back to that farce of a job interview or whatever was going on.
Screw it. I was going in.
“Stop!”
Chapter 7
I don’t belong here.
Heston
My outburst at the front doors earned me stern glances, complete with furrowed brows as people peered at me over the top of their glasses. I was tempted to wave and bow, saying, “Yes, that was me. I made a scene, and I’m so glad I did. So there.”
Father used to tell me I needed to be stronger and more opinionated. “Stand up for yourself,” he’d urged me.
When I had to, I advocated for myself and Dad, but Father wasn’t here to see it because it was regarding me being left out of his will. While I didn’t give a damn about his millions, my father’s thoughtlessness had denied me an education and a career, and thrust Dad and me close to the poverty line. Maybe his idea of being strong was to make it on my own, without help from his fortune.
Kenneth wove through a rabbit warren of corridors, all dark wood and with portraits of stern men on the wall. I could almost sense their displeasure as me and my sneakers strode over the hallowed floor. The club scented of money, which to me was the smell of old wrinkled leather.
But it was that other intoxicating scent that teased me, daring me to neglect my errand and find the source.
Can’t do that, I told myself. I was here for Dad, and it might be my only chance to speak to Sebastian. But still it lured me, urging me to ignore my stepfather. I imagined it saying, “Find me if you can.”
Wow! It had been a long time since I’d read fairy tales, and I had to ignore that fantasy in my head—probably my subconscious trying to avoid what was coming—and man up.
We paused in front of a private dining room, and Kenneth knocked.
“Come.” Sebastian’s menacing tone had me straightening my spine as I prepared for him to chew me out. My eyes flicked left and right, hoping there was a plate I could use to deflect the venom that my stepfather would throw at me.
“Heston.”
I heard him before my eyes adjusted to the dim light in the dining room. Sebastian was in there alone, apart from Vince, his private secretary. But Vince wasn’t sitting but hovering behind him, clasping a tablet. Poor guy, he probably had to bring his own lunch from home.
My stepfather wore a gray wool suit, similar to one Father often wore. A pink tie and a pink handkerchief completed the look, but if I kneeled on the thick carpet and inspected his shoes, the expensive leather would be shiny enough to see my reflection.
Sebastian forked a piece of salmon and put it in his mouth. He chewed, reminding me of a cow chewing its cud. I hid myrevulsion by putting my hand behind my back and digging the nails into my palm.
“What do you want?” He replaced the fork on his plate, and I winced as the metal clinked on the porcelain. “You didn’t embarrass me with your lies because you were interested in my health.” He checked his watch—his very expensive watch, which I’d seen in TV adverts. “I’m a busy man, so out with it.”
“Speaking of health, Dad is not well.”
Sebastian didn’t glance up or stop eating. He picked up a bread roll and tore it in half, slathering butter on one. I opened my mouth to tell him if he continued with the butter overload, he might clog his arteries. But I bit my tongue. Not only would he not appreciate my advice, but I didn’t give a shit if I witnessed him taking his last breath before collapsing onto the floor.
“Something amusing?”
Damn, I was smiling as I pictured him gasping, hands clutching his chest.
Dad would reprimand me if I told him what I was thinking. Yeah, that was awful wishing a painful death on someone, even if it was my stepfather. What if it wasn’t painful, and he just died? Would that still make me a horrible person?
“Heston!”
“Sorry, yes. Dad will die unless he gets heart bypass surgery.” I blurted it out, and while Sebastian’s expression didn’t flicker, Vince mouthed, “I’m sorry,” behind his boss’s back.
“Don’t be so dramatic.” He bit the bread, and butter glistened on his lips.
“The doctor said his arteries clogged because he ate too much butter.” I couldn’t resist and wished I could high-five someone as the bread tumbled from Sebastian’s fingers.
“If you’re here to taunt me, you can leave.”
