31. Michaela
Michaela
I t’s Sunday lunch at the patriarch Konig’s Malibu Colony Beach house.
This house is the size of Vatican City.
Phoenix, Slate, Wilder, and Soren are working the barbecue while talking sports.
Typical men.
Wilder is back in LA. Since Phoenix’s younger brothers are certified bachelors, I’m the only girl.
As the men were going on and on and on about last night’s basketball game, I excused myself and headed to the bathroom.
On my way back to the deck, I spot a beautifully appointed room.
A wall decorated with myriad photos stares at me.
Curiosity wins.
I venture in. Since the door is open, I’m not being a busy body.
The space is bright—too bright for it to be a reading room. It’s also too neat and organized to be a study.
This is a family shrine.
The aroma of fresh flowers tickles my nose.
There are bouquets in every corner of the room, adding a spot of color to the gray-on-gray décor.
Save for a couple large armchairs, there’s a row of floor-to-ceiling bookshelves with glass doors filled with awards, old books and mementos.
The rows of picture frames tell the story of a family––a legacy.
There are several black and white photos, and many colored ones that seem to have faded with time. I squint as I take in Phoenix’s great-great-grandparents, great-grandparents and grandparents.
I spot the official photos of Phoenix and me from the HEEA and I smile.
The Konig Hotels cleaned house that night. They won an embarrassing number of awards compared to the competition. Brock and Marie-Clémence’s sullen expressions were priceless. They didn’t get a chance to step on stage to represent Ripley Madigan’s hotels. Boo woo woo.
I stroll to the wall of photos that caught my eye.
My gaze peruses the many photos of four smiling boys and a teenager. I recognize Phoenix, Slate, and Wilder. I’m guessing the shortest boy is Roman. The tall teenager must be Barron. My eyes move to another photo of him as a man. He was as handsome as his brothers.
Yup, it’s in the Konig genes.
I check out photo after photo of the four surviving Konig men. Each time I land on one of Phoenix’s, my ovaries explode.
Damn.
I cradle my stomach, wondering not for the first time what our babies would look like.
Sigh.
“There you are, Michaela.”
I jump in fright at my father-in-law’s voice.
I turn around to face him.
“I’m sorry,” he says. With his hands in his pockets, he approaches.
Since Soren is as tall as his sons, I have to tilt my head back to meet his gaze.
“I thought you’d got lost. Arguably, the house is massive,” he says.
No joke.
“Either that or you got bored with our sports talk.” He laughs.
“This wall caught my eye as I was leaving the bathroom. I didn’t notice it two weeks ago when I was here last.”
“It was your wedding day, sweet girl. There was a lot going on,” Soren says.
“True.” Guilt gnarls at me. “Maybe I shouldn’t be in this room,” I say, afraid I’ve made a gaffe.
“Nonsense. You’re a Konig. You belong in this room.”
Thank God he’s not upset I’m snooping around.
“Speaking of which, congratulations, Mrs. Konig, on your two-week anniversary.” Soren winks.
“Thank you.” I wink back.
The rest of the Paris trip flew by in a blur. A lot like the last week and a half since we’ve been back in LA. There are so many perks to being married. Copious amount of sex tops the list.
“This is a special room,” Soren says, changing the subject. “I had it built after Daniela died.”
“I can’t imagine how difficult it must’ve been for you to lose your wife a year after losing your oldest son.”
He nods. “I didn’t think I was going to survive their deaths. My four sons kept me going.”
“I’m glad they did.”
“So am I,” he says. “Roman’s accident brought back a flood of fear. The worst part was, I couldn’t fly to Hawaii to see my boy—I still can’t. Thank God he’s alive. Our video calls bring me peace of mind.”
“I can understand.”
He points at two photos. “I desperately miss Daniela and Barron, though.”
“She was so beautiful,” I say.
“She was,” he says. “I’m not destined to love again. Daniela was the love of my life.” Sadness veils his blue eyes. “The moment I caught sight of her, she was it for me. Cliché, I know, but it’s the truth.”
That’s such devotion.
“I love this photo of her the most.” He points.
Daniela is wearing an elegant black hat with a wide brim. She has a Hermes scarf wrapped around the band. She’s sitting near the pool, an e-Reader in hand, smiling and waving at the camera. Everything about Phoenix’s mom screams style.
“It was one of the better days during her treatment.” Soren rakes his hand through his salt and pepper hair.
“The hat was to protect her from the sun and to hide the telltale signs of the ravages from the chemo. She had lost her long, dark hair. Still, she was my beautiful, fighting queen.” His voice breaks.
My heart goes out to him. I place a comforting hand on his forearm.
He places his hand over mine and squeezes. “You know what I’m talking about.”
I nod, fighting back tears, as sad memories of my mom’s courageous fight assail me.
“It’s so hard to lose someone you love like that,” I say, wiping away tears. “You’re nothing more than a powerless spectator and there’s nothing you can do to stop the hurt… or the tragic ending.”
“And trust me when I say this, even when you have all the money in the world, it’s still not enough to get the pain to stop.”
A moment of silence passes between us.
I shift my gaze to the wall of memories. “Which of your sons is the most like your wife?”
“Barron…” Soren lets out a long breath. “In terms of personality, my oldest son had his mother’s temperament. They approached life in a similar manner. They even had the same laugh.” He pauses. “That’s why it was so hard for Daniela after Barron’s death. She felt she lost a part of herself.”
“I was lost for a long time after Mom died,” I say. “So was Dad.”
He nods. “I’m still lost, quite frankly.”
My heart breaks for this man.
“Phoenix has the same particular shade of blue eyes as Daniela. Roman has one hazel-blue eye. Phoenix and Wilder are a mix of both of our personalities. Whereas Slate is a mini me. Roman is our wild card child. Who knows who he takes after?” He chuckles.
I laugh.
Soren’s eyes move to the photo of his oldest son.
His lips curl up in a sad smile. “Dear Barron…” He traces the frame.
“Being at the helm of Konig Imperial Holding was his dream and destiny. He wasn’t supposed to die this young.
I didn’t see the signs and I have to live with the guilt every single day.
” Another pause. “I never expected Phoenix to rise to the challenge the way he has, and I didn’t think he was going to handle the additional responsibilities after my heart attack and Roman’s accident. He surprised me.”
“He’s quite the astute and badass executive. I’m proud to stand by my man.” I laugh.
My father-in-law doesn’t.
“I might just be a nosy and hopeful old man, but watching the two of you… I reckon it’s more than a fake arrangement. You don’t have to impress anybody today. It’s just family. Everyone present is in the know. Yet, Phoenix and you can’t keep your eyes—or hands—off each other.”
My cheeks burst into flames.
My father-in-law laughs.
“You, my dear, just gave yourself away.”
I pat the back of my hands against my warm cheeks. “In a moment like this, I wish I had a poker face.”
He taps the tip of my nose. “You’re real and genuine. That’s what won Phoenix over and that’s what won Slate, Wilder, and me over,” he says. “Roman will fall under your charm when you two meet.” His expression changes to something unreadable. “You’re good for my son.”
I’m not sure what to make of his confession.
“Phoenix is good for me, too.”
“It’s like your father had a sixth sense,” Soren says.
“I agree.”
“Niels orchestrated a big production. It was a gamble to bring together two complete strangers living on opposite sides of the country in the most unorthodox way. Yet, it seems it was meant to be.”
I can only nod.
His words make me dizzy with hope, drunk with possibility. My throat tightens, as the wave of emotion takes over me.
Thud.
Thud.
Thud.
My stupid heart trips.
“What are you telling my wife, Dad?”
Startled, I turn around.
My gorgeous husband is standing there, a huge grin stretching his beautiful lips.
“Just a little daughter-in-law-father-in-law talk. Butt out, son.”
Phoenix struts towards us with a confident step.
“Not a chance. I’m here to rescue Michaela.” He wraps a possessive arm around my shoulders, pulling me close to his muscular body. Even with the apron, he’s still the consummate alpha. “I hope I’m not too late. God knows what damage you’ve already done.”
A small grin touches Soren’s face.
I let out a girlish giggle. “I know every sordid detail of your life.”
“Lies. All lies,” Phoenix says. “Don’t believe anything my father just told you.” He waves a warning finger at Soren.
“I was telling your wife, that despite your fake beginnings, destiny brought you together.”
I stop breathing because holy fuck that’s a big statement, and it’s out there.
“In my humble opinion, Michaela and you belong together”—Soren pauses for a beat—“ for real .”
My worried eyes snap up to Phoenix’s.
For a long moment, he stares at his father.
“Am I wrong, son?”
The air is so thick with crackling tension, I have to remind myself to breathe.
Phoenix cradles my face in his strong hands and drops a soft kiss against my lips. “I reckon you’re right on the money, Dad.”