Chapter 13
CHAPTER 13
Ethan
It’s four p.m. and I’ve broken my routine. Normally at this time of day, I am cloistered in my office working on the administrative duties required to run Blackburn Farms. I have a part-time secretary who does things like invoicing and scheduling, but it’s always at my direction, so my fingers are usually pounding on the laptop in my home office for an hour or so each day.
But today, that work will have to wait. Sylvie is at the kitchen table finishing up her homework and as I walk in, I hear her talking to Miranda.
“…three years old and one ear sticks straight up and the other flops forward,” Sylvie says.
“He sounds adorable,” Miranda replies, and as I turn the corner into the kitchen, I see Miranda working at the center island, seasoning the pork chops we’ll be eating for dinner. My parents are joining us tonight and my mom is bringing a board game for us all to play after. It’s just one of many ideas they’ve been accumulating that will allow Sylvie to spend family time with them in a fun, easy way. “I bet you miss him a lot.”
“Very much,” she replies as my gaze slides to her. She has her head bent over a workbook—math by the looks of it—and is managing her calculations while talking to Miranda. The girl is smart as a whip.
I decide to join the conversation. “Who do you miss?”
Sylvie’s head pops up and I’m relieved to see acceptance in her expression. Gone is her normal glare and disdain and she no longer closes herself off the way she used to. True to her word, she has been making an effort.
“My dog, Renault.”
I didn’t know she had a pet she’d left behind in France. Just one more loss she was dealing with. I have no clue what it would take to get her dog shipped here but I make a mental note to look into it. “Renault… as in the car manufacturer?”
“Renault as in the Formula1 race team,” Sylvie replies and my jaw drops. “Although now they’re called Alpine.”
“You watch Formula1 racing?” I’m practically agog because it is such a niche sport and she’s only nine. Aren’t girls her age into dolls and stuff?
“Maman did. She dated a man for a while who used to race so she was into it. Renault was her favorite team.”
I am fascinated. I walk over to the cabinet that holds thermal cups and pour myself a coffee from the pot Miranda always keeps fresh. My caffeine addiction is real. After pressing a lid onto my cup, I turn to face Sylvie, intensely curious about this new fact I’ve learned. “Did you ever go to any races?”
Sylvie nods, tapping the eraser of her pencil on the workbook. “He took us to a Grand Prix in Monaco and Monza. It was really loud.”
I have a million questions, but each one may sound like I’m curious about Alaine and her racing boyfriend and I don’t have any genuine curiosities about that.
Except one.
And I’m hesitant to ask it but it bears directly on what type of father figures Sylvie has had over her life.
Luckily, Sylvie appeases my curiosity by saying, “But she didn’t date him for very long. He traveled a lot and it didn’t work out.”
She sounds neither sad nor regretful. Just matter of fact and I assume Sylvie didn’t have a strong bond with him. Weirdly, that gives me some satisfaction as the thought of someone else being a father to her makes me sting a bit with jealousy. I’ll delve into that later, as I’ve got nine years of history to learn about her. I instead ask, “Do you like any other sports?”
Sylvie shrugs. “Football, or as you Americans call it… soccer.”
I can’t help but bark out a laugh. “Your dad played soccer in high school, or as you French call it, football.”
Sylvie actually smiles and Miranda laughs.
“Do you understand that the show horses we have and train are athletes? They compete in shows with their riders.”
“Kat explained that to me,” Sylvie replies, bending her head over her workbook and answering another math problem.
“Are you almost done with your homework?” I ask.
“Just two more.” She keeps focused and I wait for her to finish. Sharing a look with Miranda, her expression is replete with happiness that they’ve had an actual conversation—an exchange of meaningful words.
When Sylvie closes her workbook, I ask, “Why don’t you come over to the show rider barn with me? There’s somebody I want you to meet.”
Sylvie’s eyes widen. “Who?”
“Ms. DeLeon’s niece Carmen has a lesson with Kat. She goes to a different school, but y’all are the same age and we thought it would be good for you to meet. A new friend.”
I wait for suspicion to arise, but her expression is one of curiosity. “Okay. Do I need to change clothes?”
“No. What you have on is fine.” She’s dressed in jeans, a lightweight sweater and tennis shoes. “Although if you want to get up on a horse, we’re going to have to get you some proper riding attire.”
“I’m not interested in riding the horses,” Sylvie says, but not with any disdain. “They’re a little big for me.”
“If you change your mind, we have the sweetest lesson horses that are very safe. I’ll even ride with you if you want.”
Sylvie shakes her head but stands from the table and repacks her bookbag. When she’s finished, I lead her out of the house where we get in my truck and head over to the lesson barn.
I check my watch as we get out and enter through the side office door. Trey is at the desk, his booted feet propped on it.
“There’s my favorite niece,” Trey says as Sylvie walks in behind me.
Sylvie looks flustered and isn’t sure how to respond, so I help her out. “She’s your only niece. Not saying much that you call her a favorite.”
Sylvie giggles and it’s music to my years.
“What are you doing in here?” I ask Trey.
“My four-thirty training got canceled so I’m just waiting on my next one.”
I nod. “Is Carmen here yet?”
Trey points toward the door. “They just got here. She came with her mom and aunt.”
This surprises me, because while Marcie and I had arranged for the girls to meet today, I assumed Carmen would be here with only her mother. I’m not sure what it says that I have a pulse of excitement over hearing that Marcie is in the barn, but I’m most certainly not displeased about seeing her again. I know the dinner we had together was nothing more than two friends talking, but I had a pleasant time.
More than pleasant. If I’m being honest, I didn’t want the evening to end. I can’t even remember the last time I sat down and had such an easy conversation with a woman. And not just any woman. One who is very attractive in all the right ways.
When we enter through the adjoining door that leads into the show barn, I immediately spot Carmen already mounted on Lady Beatrice. She is battling the classic double bridle that the show rider uses to control not only the direction of the horse but its bearing. The top rein helps keep the horse’s head held high, a natural extension of saddlebred DNA.
Marcie and Michelle are sitting on a bench and I walk over, Sylvie following behind. Marcie smiles at me in a way I like very much and I return it.
Manners dictate I acknowledge Michelle, so I give her a nod. “How are you doing, Michelle?”
She beams at me. “Lovely. Can’t wait to see Carmen on Lady Beatrice.”
“It’s a fantastic match. I expect great things from them in the show ring this season.”
Sylvie pulls away from me and sits down beside Marcie while I take the seat on her other side.
Marcie nods toward Carmen. “That’s my niece. If your dad lets you, I thought maybe we can go do something after Carmen’s lesson.”
Sylvie looks up at me and I nod my approval. “I suppose a pre-dinner ice cream or something to that effect is in order.”
Sylvie actually grins. “I love ice cream.”
For the next half hour, we watch Kat put Carmen and Lady Beatrice through their paces. Carmen rides in a division where the only two disciplines are walking and trotting. Kat calls out instructions and corrections in Carmen’s posture and the way she holds the double reins in her hands. Sylvie watches with interest, and at one time murmurs, “They look very beautiful together.”
When the lesson is finished, Marcie and I both stand. I motion for Sylvie and she follows me over to where Carmen slides effortlessly from the horse, landing solidly on her feet. As we approach, Carmen removes her helmet and turns to face Sylvie, clearly in on the plan. She smiles broadly as Marcie makes the introductions.
“Hi,” Carmen says.
Sylvie ducks her head shyly, uncharacteristic of the little girl who has been so brash with me and my family. “This is Sylvie,” I say, my hand resting lightly on her shoulder.
“Hi,” she replies, glancing to Marcie for assurance.
Kat, who is holding Lady Beatrice’s bridle suggests, “Carmen… go ahead and walk your horse to her stall and take her tack off. Sylvie can help you.”
It warms my heart when Sylvie lifts her face to me as if asking for permission or perhaps reassurance that it’s something she could do. I give her a tiny push. “Go on and have fun.”
Kat turns the mare over to Carmen and they head off toward her stall, Sylvie walking beside Carmen. “How long have you been riding?” I hear Sylvie ask but don’t hear Carmen’s response. All that matters to me is that they’re talking.
“Want to join us for ice cream?” Michelle asks.
I turn her way, glancing at Marcie briefly, then looking down at my watch. I have so much work to do but damn if I can’t stop thinking about how beautiful Marcie is and what a good time I had with her the other night. It goes against everything I stand for as a solitary, relationship-averse man with more work than enough hours in the day.
But surely an ice cream couldn’t hurt. I can work late tonight.
The door to the office opens and Trey stands at the threshold. “Ethan.”
Something about Trey’s tone raises my hackles and as I turn that way, I see why. Just behind Trey is Gabe Mardraggon, decked out in a navy designer suit.
I glance back toward where the girls are turning the corner around the southern end of the stalls and am grateful that Sylvie doesn’t know her uncle is here. I take in Gabe’s expression—flat and grim. I figure he’s here to give me shit about the run-in I had with his mother three days ago. I’ve honestly been expecting to hear from Lionel, considering I threatened the man.
Ice cream is now out of the question, and I hold up an index finger to Trey to indicate I’ll be there in a moment. Trey nods, shutting the office door.
Turning to Michelle and Marcie, I say, “I’m sorry. I’ve got someone here I need to talk to so I won’t be able to join you.” My gaze cuts to Marcie. “Rain check?”
She blushes and fuck, if it doesn’t make her even prettier. “Yeah… sure.”
I nod with a smile and pivot for the office. I stiffen my spine and straighten my shoulders, prepared for a fight.
Gabe manages to keep the sneer on his face to a non-punchable level as I enter, pulling the door behind me.
The door doesn’t close as Kat barrels in right on my heels—siblings rallying for support. I step all the way through to let Kat in and just as the door shuts, I ask, “What are you doing here?”
Standing casually with his hands tucked in his pockets, Gabe says, “We need to talk privately.”
Kat crosses her arms over her chest, glaring at Gabe. “I’m not leaving.”
“Neither am I,” Trey says, settling into the chair behind the desk and throwing his booted feet back on top.
“This is as private as it’s going to get,” I say, my arms stretched outward to indicate the space we’re in. I’m not going to chase them out, although I certainly don’t need them at my back. But they want to be here and so they’ll stay.
Gabe’s eyes cut to Kat for only a second before coming back to me. “You had some words with my mother the other day.”
I scoff. “Your point?”
Jaw tightening, Gabe says, “I don’t like them, nor do I appreciate you interfering with our relationship with Sylvie.”
“Relationship?” Kat sneers. “You people don’t love Sylvie. You only want to use her for some nefarious gain.”
Gabe’s eyes turn glacial as he apprises my sister. “And what exactly would that be?”
Kat snorts, tossing her long black braid over her shoulder to hang down her back. “Haven’t figured it out yet but given you’re a Mardraggon, I’m sure it’s evil.”
“Listen, little girl,” Gabe snarls, his lip peeling upward.
“Little girl,” Kat shrieks, taking a step forward as if she’s going to pummel the man’s face, and that jolts me out of complacency.
I turn and hold up a palm to Kat. “Don’t. We have customers in the barn,” I warn.
Kat raises her hands in surrender. “Fine. Not my place, but if you want my opinion, I think you and Trey should just take him outside and beat the shit out of him. Give him a few good kicks from me.”
Gabe is a big guy, standing as tall as both me and Trey. Despite his fancy suit, he was a brawler when we played football against each other. His smile at Kat is feral, revealing his teeth. “I’d gladly take them both on but I’m not sure about you, Hell Kat. You could give a man a run for his money.”
“As if I’d even share the air you breathe,” she huffs. “You’re beneath me.”
“Kat,” I grumble, pointing toward the door. “Just go.” I turn to Gabe. “Talk to my sister like that again, and you’ll lose some teeth.”
Trey slowly rises from his chair. “Let’s just get on with knocking his teeth out.” Trey cracks his knuckles menacingly.
I sigh, rubbing the bridge of my nose. I jerk my head toward the office door. “You get out of here too, Trey. Let me talk to him in private.”
Trey doesn’t argue, but keeps his hardened gaze pinned on Gabe as he walks out of the office with Kat. She also levels the Mardraggon with a nasty glare before they leave.
When the door shuts, I turn and cross my arms. “I know damn well you didn’t come here to talk about the meeting I had with your mother. If anyone cared enough about it, Lionel would have been on my doorstep that night. As it stands, you all know you’ve got no legal standing to see Sylvie without my permission, so why are you really here?”
Gabe motions with his hand toward one of the guest chairs. “May I?”
I nod, not really wanting to extend the courtesy but I figure I’ll save up for what will surely be a fight. I take the abandoned office chair but don’t cock back in it the way Trey had, instead perching on the edge, my hands folded on the desk.
Gabe settles suavely into his seat after unbuttoning his suit jacket, crossing one leg over the other. “I’m here about Alaine’s trust agreement.”
I frown at him. “None of my business. I can take care of Sylvie without it.”
“No doubt you can, despite some appearances,” Gabe says disdainfully, glancing around the office. It isn’t posh by Mardraggon standards. “But that’s not my concern.”
“How about you get to the part that’s actually bothering you so I can assure you and then you can be on your way out of our lives.”
Gabe chuckles but it’s mirthless and his eyes are flat. “See, that’s the problem. The trust agreement puts us squarely in each other’s lives.”
My scowl deepens. “Come again?”
“Apparently, my sister wasn’t in the right frame of mind when she had the trust redrafted before she died. Our lawyers will contest it, but for now, it appears that you and I have been named as co-trustees in managing the winery for Sylvie.”
Of all the things I could have imagined Gabe Mardraggon saying, this is nowhere close to being on the list. “Impossible.”
“If only it were,” Gabe says drolly. “But Alaine felt like your counsel was necessary and until Sylvie turns twenty-one, we are required to partner in all decisions.”
“Wait a minute,” I say, sitting up straighter. “Back up. I assumed your family owned the winery. Are you telling me that Sylvie does?”
“Prior to Alaine’s death, she owned controlling shares. The winery was never a passion for my parents or my grandparents, for that matter. They were content to let Alaine run it and reap the profits from their nominal shares. But as it stands, now that Alaine is dead, my parents believe all controlling interests should be reverted to the main family trust.”
There’s something about Gabe’s tone that catches my suspicion. “Your parents believe that… but do you?”
“Doesn’t matter,” Gabe says with a wave of his hand. “I’m here now talking to you about it. Like I said, our lawyers are going to contest the trust but that takes time and the court system moves slow. I’m merely here to let you know that according to the trust documents, you have an equal say—as Sylvie’s father—in how the winery business is conducted.”
“No,” I say with supreme confidence. “That’s not why you’re here. So how about for once in your life you speak the truth and tell me what you really want.”
Gabe inclines his head with a sly smile as if to say, well played. “Our lawyers believe we have a strong argument that due to Alaine’s brain cancer, she wasn’t competent when she made those decisions. While we can’t contest paternity, there’s a good chance that a court will see it our way and remove you as trustee. I’m here to offer an alternative to a very long, very expensive court battle.”
I feel my hackles rising. “And that would be?”
“The Mardraggon trust is willing to offer you a substantial amount of money right now for Sylvie’s interests. We’ll be glad to leave her a minor amount, which will still provide a sizable yearly income for her and—”
“No.”
Gabe blinks at me. “Don’t you even want to know what I’m offering?”
“Nope.” I shake my head and stand from the desk. “I’m not selling Sylvie’s shares. That’s her winery. She loves that place. It’s her legacy.”
Tipping his head to look at me, Gabe doesn’t bother to give up his seat. “I would have thought you’d want her legacy to be this farm.”
“Who says a girl can’t have two legacies?” I quip, then move around the desk and to the door that leads outside. “Now… if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got work to do.”
Gabe sighs and slowly rises from his chair, buttoning his jacket. “I think you should reconsider.”
“Not going to happen. That winery is going to stay in Sylvie’s control and if that means I have to work by your side to make it profitable, then I’ll suck it up past the nausea and do it.”
“Ten million dollars,” Gabe says, his face suggesting that the figure should shock me into considering.
“Not interested.”
“Fifteen.”
I open the door and pull it wide. I stare at Gabe with hard, unyielding eyes that say no amount of money will change my mind.
Gabe’s stare turns to stone. “You should know not to fuck with our family.”
“I’m not,” I maintain. “I’m protecting Sylvie. That shouldn’t be a contrary interest to your own. She’s your fucking niece for God’s sake.”
If I didn’t know any better, I would’ve sworn that was pain flashing across Gabe’s face. “I love my niece. Trust me when I say, removing her from the Mardraggons’ business holdings would be in her best interest.”
I don’t know how to take that. I’m truly caught off guard by Gabe’s proclamation of love. I am fairly certain her grandparents don’t love her… not the way a child should be loved. Gabe’s tone tells me that he truly cares for Sylvie.
But I push those uncertainties aside. They have no place in the here and now. “I want you to send me a copy of the trust documents and any other pertinent information regarding the winery. I’ll have my own lawyers look at it. But in the meantime, I suggest you and I set up a meeting where we can go over everything and you can bring me up to speed on how to run a winery.”
Gabe looks like he wants to argue but eventually gives a curt nod. “I’ll have my secretary reach out to you.”
“That will be fine,” I reply. Gabe brushes past me, stepping out of the barn into the April sunlight. He gets no more than a few paces away when something occurs to me. “Sylvie has a dog.”
Gabe turns around, confusion on his face. “A dog?”
“Back in France. She misses him. I’d like to have him shipped here. No clue how to go about doing that but I need someone at the winery who can facilitate that on their end.”
I’m shocked to see Gabe’s face soften and he lets a small smile slip before locking it down. “That would be Esteban. He’s the general manager there. I’ll get his contact information to you. If you run into any issues, just let me know and I’ll do what I can to help.”
I force my jaw to stay locked and not drop open in shock from the genuine offer. Nodding, I say, “I’d appreciate that.”
Gabe doesn’t say another word but pivots on his foot. I watch him walk to a fiery-red Porsche but don’t wait for him to leave before shutting the office door. Scrubbing my hands through my hair, I huff out a sigh of frustration.
Things just got even more complicated where Sylvie is concerned. I had hoped to maintain a strong line to keep my family separated from the Mardraggons, but that appears to be impossible right now.