Chapter 17
Spencer
Ivy is in my office.
Lying on her play mat, she babbles and rolls over and back like it’s her only mission in life.
Glenda’s been in at least fifteen times, using whatever excuse she could think of to start with.
Now she’s just walking right on in and dropping to the floor to play with my cousin’s kid that I’m sitting for.
It was a desperation call.
On the part of my imaginary cousin, and my own.
Mrs. Henderson is out of action with a head cold I don’t want Ivy getting, and I panicked. I can’t take Riley’s day from classes. I won’t.
She takes care of Ivy, much better care than I ever could, and she deserves her study days. I will not be the reason she doesn’t get her MBA.
My own business degree sits in limbo, with two courses left till completion. Stupidly, I figured since I already worked in the business manager role I didn’t need the piece of paper.
A decision current me is regretting. With every minute that ticks over of my work day comes another chance for someone who knows me to waltz in. My cover story will be blown out of the water, no doubt getting back to my father, and life as we know it will never be the same. I can guarantee that.
My only saving grace is that my father’s random drop-in for this month has already happened. If you count the board and budget meeting a few weeks ago.
I settle into my desk, checking emails and running an eye over the rosters for the next few weeks.
My inbox takes around two hours to clear, and by the time that telltale swoosh sounds off for the last time and my inbox is empty, Ives is grumbly.
Rolling over, she sucks on her fist like she hasn’t eaten in days instead of almost three hours.
She starts fussing, and Glenda appears, as if she’s been hanging outside my door waiting for Ivy’s siren song.
“Can I feed her, Spence? Your cousin wouldn’t mind, would they? I just adore babies. Had three myself, but alas, they grew up.”
She’s definitely giving me the puppy dog pleading eyes as she inches closer to Ivy, who is pulling faces and squirming.
“Sure. Knock yourself out.”
Glenda lifts Ivy from the ground, her face twisting as she says, “Oh Spence, your little one’s done a big job.” She holds her at arm’s length.
“Damn. Sorry, give her here.”
I reach for Ivy, the need to take care of her overriding the poop smell that only now hits me. “I’ll take her.”
I pry Ivy from Glenda’s grip, and she tilts her head, her brows falling.
As Glenda eyes me suspiciously, she breathes, “You know, anyone could mistake you for a baby daddy, bossman.”
My body turns rigid.
This is exactly how this kind of shit gets out.
One well-meaning employee.
One accidental slip of the tongue . . .
“Absolutely not. The sooner I hand this kid back, the better.”
The words are ash on my tongue.
The thought that I’m going straight to hell for that one cements the fact that I would never hand Ivy over. She is part of my life now.
After all that Riley told me last weekend, I’m not going to lie, I’m kind of inspired by the girl who stepped up and raised her family at the age of twelve. How many kids these days could cope with that?
Glenda gives me a sly wink and leaves my office.
Fuck, nothing gets past our oldest employee. Nothing.
She knew me as a kid.
She’s been here since before I was the boss and could well likely be here after I get fired from the family business if word of Ivy gets back to my father. I shut the door behind her.
“Ives, we’re on thin ice, my sweet girl. Daddy needs to keep our little secret a little bit longer.”
She babbles back at me, and I wonder what it will feel like when she says dad for the first time.
My knowledge base on babies is left wanting, but I assume she will say mom at some point, too.
Shaking the thought from my head, I grab her blanket and fold it in half on one end of my desk. Laying her down, I change her up.
My door flies open as I’m clipping her onesie together.
“Spencer, we need a hand in the barn. There’s been an accident.” I spin back to find one of the casual stable hands in my doorway.
His distraught face has me pulling Ivy from the desk half dressed and into my arms. I follow him without thinking.
We rush through the office and out into the sunshine. Crossing the gravel driveway, we’re rushing into the stables a moment later.
On one side of the barn’s open center, I find Mrs. Princeton sitting on a bale of hay, an icepack pressed to her cheek.
On the other, her gelding stands fully tacked up and quivering by the tack room doorway.
“What the hell happened?” I bark.
Glenda hands the reins over to the stable hand and crosses to where I’m holding Ivy as my body bounces.
“Spencer, let me take the baby, and you deal with her.” She nods toward Mrs. Princeton, and I numbly hand Ivy over.
“Don’t let her walk all over you, bossman,” she whispers.
Glenda is walking back into the sunshine as I close the space between myself and the woman as old as her money, currently glaring at me like I’m the problem.
Maybe I am.
Well, I’m about to be her problem if I find out she’s mistreated her horse.
“What happened? I’m not going to ask again.”
A defiant look takes over her expression as she rises to her feet. “This animal almost killed me!”
“This animal, Mrs. Princeton, is your horse.”
I fold my arms over my chest and set my shoulders back. We all know her play. Cruelty toward others, horses included, until she somehow manages to spin it back around to seem like the damn victim.
If you ask me, it’s the product of ingrained entitlement.
Not that I can separate myself from it, being a Lockwood. Bu—
“Are you even listening to me?” she shrieks. “I want a new horse. The best in this decrepit establishment. The only reason I haven’t left and moved my interests to Lucky Clover Stables is because I like you, Spencer. My loyalties have always been with your family, and this is how I am repaid.”
More like she gets what she wants here. Well, mostly.
Her salacious solicitations have not been forgotten.
After the budget and board meeting, I realize we can’t afford to lose her and her associates. The founding members make up too many of our full-time patrons. It would be a mass exodus that would cripple Silver Elite financially.
Judging by this little power trip of hers, she knows that.
I move in closer, so only she can hear what I say next. “What do you really want, Priscilla?”
Her expression softens as something like want flickers through her eyes. “You know exactly what I want, Spencer.”
Her finger lands on my polo, over my heart.
I tamp back the shiver that’s starting at the top of my spine, ready to wash over my body in disgust. I know this game. Well.
Well enough to twist it to my advantage.
“Why me? You could have the pick of men,” I say softly, dropping my head so my words meet the shell of her ear.
That finger on my chest escalates to her entire hand as it presses against my shirt.
“I have been watching you since you started here. Those weekends you came to sit with that little friend of yours. What was his name, Bradley? I knew, even then, that we would be together, one day.”
Bile rises in my throat, and I grind my molars down to stop the visceral reaction to what she just admitted.
“Brady. His name is Brady,” I grind out.
The fucking nerve of this woman.
“I have been watching you, Spencer. All those women you claim, but never me.” When I meet her gaze, her eyes are blown out with lust. Her injury forgotten, she leans into me.
My brow raises on its own accord, along with the heat in my veins as anger coils in my gut.
Of all the conniving, sordid, underhanded fucking things . . .
“Take your hand off me, Priscilla,” I growl.
Delight flickers through her wrinkle-framed eyes before rage takes over.
“If you know what’s good for you and your little establishment, you’ll do what I say, boy.”
“Not in a million fucking years. Get out of my stables, and don’t bother coming back.”
She takes a step back, chin tilting up and shoulders setting back as she hisses, “You just made a grave mistake.”
No doubt. My life is a string of those. With this, however, I stand my ground.
The likes of Priscilla Princeton are not welcome here.
If I’d known the depravity of her intentions earlier, I would have done this months ago.
Who knows who else she’s tried to force herself onto. And if she’s succeeded in doing so.
I make a mental note to hold a whole team meeting around this.
Nodding at the wide exit of the barn, I wave a hand toward it. “Now, Priscilla, before I have you escorted out by the police.”
Indignation twists her face, her thin lips wobbling as she stalks toward the barn exit. Flinging her riding crop at the unsuspecting stable hand who walks in and pays her a friendly smile, she huffs and disappears around the corner.
“Ah.” Evan flinches, cowering as the riding crop falls to the ground. “What was that for?”
I cross the barn and give Evan a once-over. “She won’t be back. I’m sorry she took out her frustrations on you. Are you alright?”
He nods, adjusting his cap.
“She looked pretty mad, boss.”
“She’ll get over it.”
I don’t believe she will do anything of the sort, nor will she go down with creating a shitstorm. But that’s my problem to handle, not anyone else’s.
Glenda is walking toward the barn, Ivy in her arms, as she stares at an enraged Priscilla speeding down the white gravel driveway, a spray of rocks flinging from the back tires of her black Mercedes.
Sighing, I head for Glenda and take Ivy from her arms.
“She’s going to make this hard for you, Spence.” Her brows are lowered, her eyes filled with worry.
She’s right.
I slide my phone out and swipe it open.
Riles, I need a favor. Something has gone down at work. Can you pick up Ives a little early? I need to use the last hour to settle my staff.
The three dots appear and then disappear.
I’m swaying on my feet automatically to keep Ivy happy as my phone goes dark a beat before it pings, the screen lighting up again.
Sure.
Thanks, I owe you.
I can be there at four.
Thanks, Riles. Seriously, I owe you one.
Noted, Spencer.
The stupid smile on my face is somewhat out of place, but Riley has had that effect on me since the day we met.
I walk back to the reception building and leave my staff to their duties. Patrons are coming in from their rides, others using the arenas on either side of the driveway for training and lessons.
We are always busy.
Always full.
Regardless, our margins are tight. A place like this takes a lot of effort, staff, and logistics. Not to mention the politics and overheads.
Inside, I feed Ivy and put her down on her mat for a sleep.
She’s fussy and makes a ruckus as I try to word an email to the family lawyer and outline my last interaction with Priscilla.
I want this documented.
I’m reclined in my office chair, Ivy on my chest as I skim and scan next fortnight’s roster, when a knock comes.
Riley’s early . . .
My gut sinks when I look up to find my father filling my doorway and not the one person I was looking forward to seeing this afternoon.
His face is taut with a stoney expression.
Fucking hell.
“Who the hell is that?” he snaps.
Ivy starts to cry, her eyes pinned on the man looming in the doorway as her head bobs. Smart girl. I don’t bother giving him an answer as I huddle her to my chest and rock forward.
“Could you be any more of a disappointment, son?”