16. Wentworth
SIXTEEN
Wentworth
2013
IT TOOK MOST OF THE AFTERNOON AND MORE MONEY than I thought it would but I don’t care. The county clerk, who’s kid I’m pretty sure I’m putting through college, has expedited our marriage license and is having it couriered over by 4PM.
Kait and I are getting married today.
That’s all that matters.
She’s been gone most of the afternoon, shopping for new clothes. If I know her, she took one look at the price they charge for jeans downstairs and tried to bolt out the door. The fact that she’s been gone so long tells me that Dakota is with her, helping her spend my money.
I don’t care about that either. The only thing that matters to me is that Kait gets what she wants and that she’s my wife the next time I fuck her.
Pulling out my phone, I send my sister a quick text.
Me: Don’t let her talk herself out of buying anything.
Kota: Are you watching us rn?
Me: LOL She can be stubborn. If she touches it, she buys it.
Kota: Got it. She might be afraid to spend your money but I’m not.
Laughing, I check in with Con, even though it’s the last thing I want to do.
Me: How’s Maxwell?
Con: Made it through surgery. In a medically induced coma but alive. Surgeon is confident he stopped the brain bleed and is cautiously optimistic that he’s going to pull through. It’s a waiting game from here.
Not the news I wanted to hear but it’s better than the alternative.
Me: That’s good. Any news on the ATM footage?
Con: The federal judge in charge of reviewing the case and granting the subpoena is being a dickface. He’s insisting on reviewing every shred of evidence—witness statements, first responder reports… he isn’t going to allow the release of the footage until he’s satisfied it’s warranted, which is likely to take weeks. He hasn’t come right out and said it but he’s worried if he rushes things and grants the subpoena, he’ll be accused of being just another judge, rolling over for a billionaire scumbag.
Even though I know it’s shitty of me, I’m relieved. The longer it takes, the longer I have to spend with Kait.
Con: Just hang tight. As soon as I have news, I’ll reach out.
Translation: Don’t call me, I’ll call you.
That’s fine with me too. As long as Brian Maxwell is alive, I can wait on the rest.
AS PROMISED, THE CONCIERGE APPEARED WITH EVERYTHING on Kait’s list from the drugstore about an hour after she went downstairs, along with something I asked for on impulse.
“I hope they’re to your liking, sir,” the concierge—whose name is Jerard—says while pulling a small black box from the inside breast pocket of his suit. “You said simple, but?—”
“I’m sure they’re fine,” I tell him while taking the box from him. Even though I want to open the box and look at them, I don’t want to do it in front of him. “I don’t have to remind you that you signed an NDA?—”
“Sir.” Poor Jerard looks like I just spit on his mother. “Your grandfather hired me himself for my discretion. I serve this hotel and the family who owns it. I would never, under any circumstances, betray your trust.” Smoothing his hands over the front of his suit jacket, he gives me a nod that says the matter is settled. “Is there something else I can do for you? Perhaps have Chef Bravebird prepare a celebratory dinner or?—”
I should’ve known he’d figure it out.
“I need you to marry us.” It comes out of nowhere and surprises the hell out of both of us. “I have someone lined up but with everything that’s going on with me in the press, I think the fewer people who know?—”
“It would be my honor,” Jerard gives me a slight bow. “Getting ordained is a simple matter, these days. When would you like to hold the ceremony? Might I suggest Saturday? It would give us time to?—”
“No.” I shake my head. “Today. We want to do it today.”
Now Jerard looks like I spit on his mother and kicked his puppy. “Sir, if given a little more time to prepare, I can?—”
“No guests. No flowers. No cake.” I shake my head again. “Right here. Just you, her, and me—as soon as the marriage license gets here.”
Jerard’s carefully schooled expression wavers slightly. “Have we taken into consideration what the young lady might want?” he asks as delicately as possible.
Shit.
When I don’t answer him, Jerard’s expression softens slightly. “Perhaps we can meet in the middle. Your family’s rooftop gardens are beautiful this time of year and closed to guests. If you’ll allow me to?—”
“Okay.” I give him a jerky nod, ready to concede. “As long as whatever you do can be done in a few hours and without anyone knowing.”
“Absolutely, sir.” Jerard beams at me like I just gave him the keys to the kingdom. “Now, would you happen to know your suit measurements?”
Suit? I told Kait to buy something nice to get married in but neglected to think about the same for myself. As much as she seems to love seeing me in a pair of sweats, I don’t think she’d appreciate getting dressed up, just to find me waiting for her at the altar in a pair of them.
“48 long.”
“Excellent.” Jerard gives me another wide smile. “If that would be all, I should like to get to work on preparations.” When I give him a nod, Jerard offers me another slight bow before making his way to the elevator. As soon as he’s gone, I open the small black box he handed me.
The rings inside are simple, as promised. Platinum—mine a simple wide band. Kait’s a delicate eternity band, encrusted with diamonds. Satisfied that it’ll do for now, I snap the box closed and slip it into the pocket of my jeans, just as my cell phone starts to ring on the coffee table behind me.
I move to pick it up only to stall out when I see my brother’s name on my call screen. Giving brief consideration to letting him dump into voicemail, I decide against it. Might as well get it over with.
“Took you long enough.” I figured one of the hands would find her mother’s car, left at the front gate, with the keys in the seat and inform Damien hours ago.
“Bring her back.” No greeting. No pleasantries. We’re obviously past that.
“I can’t.” I give my head a tight shake even though he can’t see me. “She doesn’t want me to.”
“Kait is desperate,” he reminds me. “She doesn’t know what she wants.”
“Well, she knows she doesn’t want to marry the piece of shit who tried to rape her,” I inform him, struggling to keep my tone as even as I can. “And she sure as fuck doesn’t want to spend the next couple of decades getting kicked in the teeth by her father, every chance he gets—that’s good enough for me.”
“What are you doing, Went?” he asks on a frustrated sigh. “Her father will be home in a few days and when he gets here, he’ll just come get her and?—”
“He’ll be too late.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Frustration bleeds away, replaced by apprehension.
“It means we’re getting married.” Reaching into my pocket, I pull out the ring box and squeeze it in my fist. “I asked her last night, and she said yes.”
“Jesus fucking Christ,” Damien barks it out on a bitter laugh. “Just like him. You’re just fucking like him. Just take what you want in the moment and who gives a shit about the consequences, right?”
There’s no need to ask who he is.
I already know.
He is our father.
“I’m in love with her.” I didn’t mean to say it. Didn’t even know it until the words fell out of my mouth but the moment I hear them, I know they’re true. I’m in love with Kait. I think I have been since the moment I met her.
The revelation only makes him laugh even harder. “Like I said— just. Fucking. Like him .”
He’s said it to me more than once, so I don’t know what makes hearing it this time any different, but it does.
“Did you know he blames Kait for her mother’s death?” I snarl it at him like a wild animal. “Her own mother died giving birth to her and that motherfucker blames her. ”
“What are you talking about?” Damien seethes at me, his anger and frustration heavy on the line between us. “Her mother?—”
“You don’t even know, do you?” Now it’s my turn to laugh. “The woman who raised her isn’t the woman who gave birth to her—her birth mother’s name is Emma Garrett.” The name must hold some sort of familiarity for him because Damien doesn’t say a word. “Ask the Missus—or better yet, ask Big Daddy Barrett when he gets home.” I tell him, my tone low and hard. “And then ask yourself this—are you so desperate to get Kait back because you’re afraid I’m going to hurt her, or are you wanting to get her back before your fucked-up father figure finds out she left with me because you’re terrified of disappointing that piece of shit?” Before he can answer me, I push forward, determined to finish what I started. “I’m sure Dakota’s called you by now so, you know where we are. When Mr. Barrett gets home, you be sure to tell him and that I’ll be right here, waiting for him.”