Page 47 of Roots of the Wicked

Chapter Twenty

Chase

Jax’s curious gaze scanned our surroundings as my family home came into view. The roar of my Rolls-Royce Cullinan quieted to a low hum as we coasted along the bricked driveway.

“So, Connecticut. The Golden Triangle. The highest of high society. Fitting for your family.”

I nodded in her direction.

The neighborhood was a little over thirty miles from the city, but with traffic it had taken some time to get there. I exited the vehicle and stepped around to open her door.

I escorted her up the steps, leading her to the front door. Douglas, our butler, opened the door and greeted us. “Mr. Taylorson, so happy you could make it.”

His gaze landed on Jax and, although, he covered it, I had caught surprise in his expression, laced with intrigue.

“Douglas, this is my lady, Jax Saint-Pierre.”

“Pleased to meet you, ma’am,” he stated, his gaze darting from me to her, unsure of what to do after Jax paid him a pleasant, “Nice to meet you.” He finally aimed his hand toward the dining room. Before we made it into the room, two additional staff members approached, and asked us if we needed anything before I introduced them to Jax.

She leaned into me, her warm words teasing my earlobe. “Surprisingly, I had forgotten how rich you are until I saw this place and all of this staff, as you call them. I mean, how many maids, butlers, and drivers does one family need?”

“It was worse before my father retired. He had an assistant for everything.”

Before I walked Jax into my family’s huge formal dining room, I decided to give her a quick tour of the place, since dinner wouldn’t be served for another fifteen minutes.

We marched up the gold and marble staircase where she was shown the apartment-sized bedrooms and the sunroom. Returning to the first floor, we took a quick peek into a few more of the rooms, before exiting the house and strolling through the botanical garden.

Once back inside, Jax stopped in front of the wall of pictures showcasing my transformation from a young unsure kid to a more assured eighteen-year-old. The pictures had stopped when my mother left my father when I was eighteen.

Jax studied my pictures. She pointed at the ten-year-old me. “You were skinny, but a cute kid. You grew into your manhood well.”

“Thank you.”

She nodded to another picture of me in my baseball uniform.

“Even back then, the glasses didn’t make you nerdy or dorky. I think the seriousness in your eyes made youhot.”

Her comment sparked a grin.

“I was teased about my glasses, but my mother was the one who made me embrace wearing them.”

I pointed out a photo of me and my mom, when I was about twelve. My mother was a beautiful blonde, who always kept her hair short. Her hands sat across me and my brother’s shoulders in the picture.

“That’s my mom,” I confirmed.

“I can tell by the proud smile on your face, you love your mother.” She studied the picture.

“My mother had left my father the day I turned eighteen. She handed him the divorce papers and rolled her luggage out the door with her head held high. I was away at college when it happened, but from what Blake described, my father had never been more shocked in his life. My mother knew of his adultery. She had even caught him cheating, not once but twice.”

I was proud of my mother, glad she had found the strength to walk away.

“She never voiced a complaint in front of us. My father didn’t make it easy for my mother to leave him, but all that time he thought she was being docile, I believed she had just been awaiting the right time. She had pictures of him with other women, some dating back to the early years of their marriage. She had even interviewed two of the women he cheated with. He was left with no choice, but to let her go after she had hit him with the unexpected.”

“Smart woman.” I heard Jax say low to herself.

“I don’t even think she complained to my father, and he was even more controlling over her, than he was over me and my brother. I think she waited until her time came and left with the same grace she entered their marriage with. I believe my father had taken her silence over the years as a sign he owned her no matter what. My mom never mentioned it, but I believed she only stayed with him because of us. With the settlement she received from the divorce, she mostly travels and does volunteer work now.”

My smile mirrored Jax’s. She enjoyed my mother’s story. Her quick tour and the brief history I had given her on my family had taken up the time. We had walked enough that she had relieved herself of the heels I carried for her. I assisted her in slipping them back on before we entered the nearest bathroom to wash our hands.

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