Chapter 13
Logan
The sun dips below the horizon, casting hues of orange, red, and purple in the sky. The gentle sway of the yacht and the soothing sound of lapping waves create an ambiance too serene for a man as cunning as my father.
One of his coveted Friday night yacht parties is in full swing, but he’s got eyes on every one of these men and women, knowing damn well they would sooner push him overboard than stick their necks out for him.
His guests are here for the atmosphere—for the bragging rights of being associated with Silas Anderson—but they’re really here because, at some point, my father decided they were a threat.
I’m expected to mingle during these parties, but unlike the woman I can’t get off my mind, I’m not much for socializing.
After our interaction at the office on Tuesday, we’ve kept our distance. Tiptoeing around each other like we’re walking on eggshells. Though, I’d argue it was more like landmines.
Penelope may not approve of my life choices, but at least I’m living my truth instead of lying about it like she is.
Dad’s gestures at the deck below to a woman named Ellen Mays, the founder of a sustainable energy solutions company called SunGro Technologies.
“Keep your friends close and your enemies closer,” he says, drinking the last sip of scotch from his glass.
When she reached out to us last year, he was immediately against the idea of a partnership, opting to join forces with big name property investor, Nathan Reid. But I never understood why he had such strong disdain for Mays’s company. Although new to the area, they’ve been developing eco-friendly advancements that are helping sustain the island’s natural environment. Unlike Reid, who’s earned a reputation for cutting corners and actively lobbying against sustainability-focused regulations.
After placing his glass on the table behind us, he reaches inside his suit pocket for a cigarette, and when he lights the tip, the acrid tar- and mint-scented smoke swirls inside my nose.
It’s been years since I’ve had the urge to pick one up and feel that searing bite digging into my flesh. A temporary relief from the burden of being a failure. Relief from trying so fucking hard to be the son he wanted me to be, while continuously missing the mark.
But once I set off for college, the urges subsided, quieting to a manageable whisper, and the harder I worked toward my business degree, the more the disagreements between us subsided, too.
Tonight, however, those urges brush against my legs, torso, and neck like the delicate sweep of a cat’s tail, and a cold sweat breaks across my forehead.
Taking a slow drag from the Marlboro between his lips, he rests his forearms on the railing beside me. “What’s this I hear about you having an assistant?”
I stare at the burning red tip of the cigarette, blood running as cold as the menthol expanding his lungs.
At my hesitation, he laughs, fogging the salt-heavy air with a thick cloud of smoke. “You’re surprised. Why?”
“I’m not.” I clear my throat, struggling for recovery. “Just impressed by how fast word travels.”
His response is to take another puff, and when he exhales, I deliberately take a sip of the warm champagne I’ve been nursing for the last hour.
“Curious. I didn’t see anyone added to your payroll.”
“I haven’t completed the paperwork to give to Human Resources.” My pulse quickens as I let not one, but two lies slide off my tongue. “I’ll do it first thing Monday morning.”
“Relax,” he says. “I know I’ve thrown some curveballs at you lately. So, if you’re wondering if I approve, I do.”
The validation gradually unravels the tension in my shoulders. Of course that’s what I’m wondering, and that cocky grin tells me he knows it, too.
Champagne sours in my mouth as I recall my conversation with Pen, earlier this week, after we left Adventure Park. She’s wrong. My relationship with him has never been stronger. He’s trusting me with bigger tasks with our companies and giving me ownership of Summit Estates was a huge test of that trust.
One I refuse to fail.
“The position is temporary,” I assure him, listening to the sounds of merriment mingling with the distant waves splashing against the hull.
“I don’t know. You may want to hold on to her if she’s as good as George says she is.”
There’s no concealing my surprise this time. “When did you speak with him?”
“He called me yesterday afternoon to say how impressed he was with you and mentioned your persuasive assistant.” A sly smile flashes, making my palms sweat and the hair at the back of my neck bristle. “You’re not sleeping with her, are you?”
He’s kidding, but I don’t like the insinuation that Penelope is some hired whore. “No, I’m not fucking my assistant, Dad.”
Though visions of that wild woman giving in to my touch while parting her knees paired with the silken feel of her hair in my hands and her rich honey scent have me taking another long drink.
“You did good, son.”
His satisfaction calms my wild nerves, but not entirely. The last thing I need is him keeping a closer eye on me. As unpredictable as he can be, I can’t risk him finding out Penelope works for me.
Casually waving to a group of his friends, he says, “Walk with me.”
Silence stretches between us ominously as he leads us down the steps to the second deck, where music is drowned by laughter and easy conversation. Golden lights sway in the breeze, highlighting a fully stocked bar and an enormous sitting area in a comforting glow. But I’m feeling anything but at ease.
I can’t get a feel for his mood, and it’s pointless to wonder, really. The man keeps his emotions tightly in check, never showing his cards until he’s sure he’s already won. Unlike me, easily read despite years of trying to disguise my thoughts.
Another failure.
“I don’t need to remind you of the past and the hardships we faced,” he says as we look toward the center of the space where we spot my mother. She’s tipsy as hell, guzzling bubbly on a circular couch, surrounded by a group of Dad’s business partners. “This was the vision I had for us that kept me from giving up. This is the life of luxury we’ve worked so hard for.”
Expensive wines float from table to table behind the couch, and plates of food I once would have begged for are passed around by greedy fingers.
It’s true when they say you don’t know what you have until it’s gone. And he’s right; I don’t need a reminder.
We went from never wanting for anything to canned tuna and plain crackers becoming a delicacy. And regardless that we’ve made our way back to this side of wealth, I’m disgusted by these men and women, taking their fill of food and alcohol until they’re thoroughly drunk and satiated. They swipe small samples before each dish is discarded altogether, forgotten, yet entirely full.
“Seeing her this happy… I can’t find the words,” he says, smiling at her tinkling laughter.
I smirk despite myself. “Reminds me of when she won a hundred dollars on that gas station scratch off ticket.”
We ate like royalty that night, stopping at five different drive-thrus for random bites of food. I still remember the taste of that strawberry box cake we stayed up making, and the mouthwatering flavor of cream cheese frosting.
“Yeah, and the next morning, we found mice had torn through nearly all of it,” he says to my recounted memory, and the grin that was dimpling his thinly scruffed cheek is gone as fast as it appeared.
I stare at a blend of his colleagues, partners, and competitors—dressed in their finery, with not a single care in their world’s as they dance and party.
He’s missing the whole fucking point.
No, I never want to go through the fear and uncertainty of poverty again. But at the time, none of what we suffered through mattered more to me than having two loving parents.
He pauses, looking beyond the party at the horizon as if it holds his next great conquest. “I swore on my life I would never put us in that position again.”
Unlike the history of his fall out with Patrick Vance, this is one story I’m no stranger to.
A friend managed to convince him to buy into an investment scam, but unbeknownst to my father, he was a crook who siphoned his money and assets right out from under his nose, leaving him with virtually nothing to his name.
Life as we knew it went to shit after that.
We barely scraped by for two years after we’d lost everything, and at sixteen, I had no idea what my future held outside of providing for my family. College wasn’t even on my radar, but my education was everything to him, and something he refused to budge on, no matter how much I was working overtime.
It was that final truancy warning that pushed him over the edge the day he hit me.
The metallic tang of blood on my tongue. The shockwave of adrenaline that followed being struck. The despair of being a disappointment.
I drain the contents of my glass, desperately wanting to forget the memories.
I don’t know what’s come over me when I eventually say, “Guess we ought to be thankful for the sanctuary the Vances gave us, then.”
I know I’ve struck a nerve when his body goes unnaturally still.
“Thankful?” He scoffs. “I have no gratitude for cowardice, son.”
He motions for me to follow him to the office on the yacht’s lowest level, and we take each step below deck silently while my heart rate ratchets.
Red carpet and a heavy mahogany desk, positioned in front of two built-in bookcases, adorn the room, reflecting an aura of power and wealth, much like the man himself.
I wasn’t ever brave enough to ask what happened that day–partly because I took responsibility for the way things played out. I’d pushed him past the point of anger after he caught me and Penelope in the barn, but now, I can’t help but wonder…
“You two were friends and colleagues for years,” I say, careful not to seem too curious. “I’ve never understood why he would back out on the business you created together?”
A buckskin cylindrical case is propped against the velvet chaise lounge beside his desk. Curious, I step toward it, but he grabs the leather strap and quickly stashes it behind the desk.
“Because he’s selfish,” he says, pulling my attention back to him. “That’s why.”
It’s been a while since I allowed myself to slip inside the memory of the last time I saw Penelope and her family.
His sentencing was swift and brutal after finding the two of us together. I was grounded for the remainder of the summer, stripped of my phone, and forced to run laps, per usual. But it’s Penelope, sobbing at the fence as she watched me run, that I remember all too well.
I pushed my tired legs past the point of my feet going numb, felt the wind sawing in and out of my lungs until my throat burned, and none of it mattered because I knew, without a fucking doubt, I was going to find a way to make her mine for good.
If only forever had been in the cards for us.
“Calling him for help was a last resort, and it doesn’t matter that he helped me start Elite Properties. We dedicated months of networking for this business, and he repaid me by withdrawing when the investors offered to trade for land in Augustine.”
I jump when he pounds his fist on top of the sturdy wood.
“He knew that without him, I’d be forced into an impossible loan. I’d have to risk everything for the second time in my life, and still, he abandoned me.” His face and neck are red when he turns his gaze to me. “The only thanks I’ll be giving that traitor is for showing me he’s weak and can’t follow through under pressure.”
It’s impossible for me to believe that Patrick, the man who saved me a place at his table, gave me a job, and looked after my family, could be the same person who would leave my father to the wolves. But now… I don’t know what to think.
My throat tightens at his rare display of emotion. “Dad, I—”
He raises a hand, collecting himself with a deep inhale. “Enough. We have business to discuss.”
When I eventually nod, he removes his suit jacket before sitting in the chair behind his desk. “I’ve organized a charity event for next weekend to get Summit some PR in Keerah.”
I sit, resting my elbows on my knees as my brow furrows. “Charity event. You mean, like a fundraiser?”
“Exactly. An event like this is perfect for getting deep-pocketed business owners and contractors all in one place.” He lights another cigarette, puffing twice before exhaling slowly. “For a good cause, of course.”
“All right. It’s unexpected, but I like the idea. Which charity are we fundraising for?”
“I’ll trust your judgment on that,” he says, waving a dismissive hand. “My focus will be on presenting our proposal for the Seaside project to someone with the resources to support its funding. Given the scale of this renovation, we’ll need an investor with substantial financial capabilities.”
I can’t imagine why a single building would need that much work. But then, he still hasn’t given me access to the location he placed the bid on, and for as much as I trust him, I want in.
“If it’s going to have Summit’s name attached to it, don’t you want me doing the pitching?”
“Absolutely, I do. But this is your first time with a project this size, and I think it’s best if you let me handle the messier side of things for now.”
I shift in on the couch, struggling to tell him I don’t want to sit on the sidelines, don’t want to learn from a distance.
“I know you’re eager to get your hands dirty, but we’re a team.” He flashes a million-dollar smile. “Luckily for you, your old man’s been doing this a long time. It’s all going to come together once the property is officially ours.”
“I can handle it,” I assure him. “I’ve been thinking about the direction I want to take Summit’s properties, and I think it would be a good idea to change things up. I know you have opinions about Mays, but I’d like to explore what options she has. Sustainable energy is a long-term investment, different from what you’re used to but effective and—”
“You’re not quite experienced in making these kinds of decisions with investors yet. You’ve only had ownership of Summit for six months, and let’s not forget about that first mishap.” Honey Hollow. An ever-present stain on my reputation, no matter how much I care about the property or its residents. “These guys can be cutthroat, but with my help, you’ll get there. Trust me.”
When I attempt to argue, he smashes the butt of his cigarette into an ashtray, signaling the end of the conversation. “I’ll have a list of tasks that you’ll be in charge of emailed to you Monday morning.”
I stare at the smoking ashes with a twinge of disappointment coiling in my chest. “I’ll get it all taken care of.”
“Good.” Business as usual, he opens the bottom drawer to his left and removes a manilla folder with a stack of papers neatly tucked inside. “And I don’t want to hear another word about changing things up. I’ve been running this business long enough to know exactly what needs to be done. All you need to do is trust me.”
I’m torn as I stand, staring at this cold, calculating version of him, but it’s Penelope who slips inside my mind.
“Such a good little soldier,”her voice taunts me, flitting around like a live spark that lost its wire.
I don’t want to question my father. I don’t want to question my life. I’ve spent the better part of a decade molding myself into the kind of son he’s always desired. I’m making him proud by working alongside him. And I’m fine with that, so why can’t she be fine with it, too?
Nodding before I turn for the door, I mutter a tight, submissive, “Understood.”
“Stitch up that bleeding heart and don’t let your emotions cloud the truth,” he says when I place one hand on the doorframe. “We’re doing great things, Logan. You’ll see.”