Chapter 5
CHAPTER FIVE
Jameson
“This fucking city,” I mutter as I descend the concrete steps outside of the entrance to Howerton House. “Coming to this wedding was a mistake.”
“You’re telling me.” Kalon’s voice comes at me from behind. “I couldn’t stand Dwight in high school. I don’t know why the hell he invited me to his wedding.”
As I step onto the sidewalk, I glance over my shoulder. “You’re joking, right? You’re a Beaumont. You and your brothers own half of this city.”
“So?” he spits the word back.
I let out a stilted laugh. “You must have heard him talking about how he needs a new job. He did it when he was standing right behind us. Don’t be surprised if he shows up at your office the day after his honeymoon.”
“I’ll tell security to toss him out of the building the second they spot him.”
I doubt like hell he’s joking, so I change the subject because Dwight was a dick back in high school, and I wouldn’t want to work with the asshole either. I’m shocked that Donna is marrying him, but maybe they are living proof of the love is blind concept.
“Where to now?” Kalon asks as he scans the screen of his phone. “We can hit up a bar or…”
“Your apartment,” I interrupt. “Are you sure it’s okay if I crash with you again tonight?”
“My home is your home.” He pockets his phone. “You can stay as long as you want, James. I’m not kicking your ass to the curb anytime soon.”
Kalon has always been a solid friend to me, even when I dropped out of sight two years ago.
It took me more than three months to get in touch with him after that, but he never brought up my disappearing act. We picked up our friendship right where we left off after I hightailed it out of New York City.
“I appreciate that,” I tell him.
“I’m here for whatever you need.” He straightens the lapels of my jacket with a firm tug. “Let’s head home. You look like you could use a cup of coffee.”
I glance at the entrance to Howerton House one last time. I haven’t admitted it to Kalon, but I came to this wedding tonight for one reason and one reason only. I suspect he figured it out because he pointed out Sinclair as soon as she walked in.
The beautiful brunette with the big blue eyes is still the most striking woman I’ve ever seen.
“Are you ready to go?” Kalon’s voice interrupts my thoughts. “I ordered a rideshare. They’re less than a block out.”
“Good.” I tear my gaze away from the building to look toward the street. “It’s been a long day.”
“It has,” he agrees as he pats the middle of my back. “I’m here for whatever you need. I know this is a tough time.”
It’s the worst, but I’ll get through it because I have to.
Death is never easy, but I’m in Manhattan not only to honor my grandmother but to close this chapter of my life forever. That includes putting the business I once hoped I’d run in my rearview mirror and facing my brother one last time.
Add dealing with Sinclair’s hatred of me to that equation, and I’m in for one hell of a bumpy ride.
“There is no other way to handle this?” I stare at the man standing in front of me. “There must be another way.”
“I’m afraid there’s not, Jameson.” His voice is calm and edged with the type of compassion required in situations like this. “Denia wanted this. She insisted on it.”
I’m not surprised. My grandmother always had the last word when she was alive, so I can’t be shocked that she’d want the same in death.
It’s been four days since she took her last breath. The world seems smaller, less bright, and more confusing than ever.
When her attorney asked me to meet him at his office this morning, I hoped it would be a one-on-one deal.
“Mr. Wismer, look.” I stop to gather my thoughts, so I can find a diplomatic way to tell him that I’m not ready to see my brother yet.
“Call me Bryce,” he insists, his green eyes searching my face. “Denia told me that your relationship with Holden is complicated.”
I almost laugh at that description. Complicated doesn’t begin to describe the non-relationship I have with my older brother. I’d classify it as sworn enemies. Holden might call it something else, but regardless of how we label it, we can’t stand each other and haven’t spoken in more than two years.
I knew I’d have to see him at some point while I’m in Manhattan, but I didn’t anticipate that happening today.
“Once Holden and the others arrive, we’ll move through this quickly.”
I perk a brow. “Others? What others?”
My grandmother had two heirs. I don’t have a cousin waiting in the wings, and my dad didn’t have any secret children I know of.
I’ve been under the impression that the bulk of her estate will go to Holden and his wife, Finella. I fully anticipate that Denia left me one thing only. It’s a piece of artwork that she bought at my urging from a gallery years ago.
She told me then that it would hang in my home one day.
I’m here to collect it, so I can take it back to New Mexico.
“You’ll see.” Mr. Wismer smiles. “Your grandmother was a generous soul.”
That statement is true, but it comes with a caveat. Denia Sheppard would treat you well if you jumped through the hoops she held out for you.
I missed the landing on one of those hoops, so I lost my place in the family business.
I glance around the conference room. It’s what you’d expect to find in a lawyer’s office. The large table in the center is crafted from dark wood. A bookcase covers one wall and is home to countless law books. In the corner, a well-stocked coffee bar awaits anyone who has a craving.
I drop my gaze to my watch. “You said ten, right? Everyone should be here by now.”
“I’m here.”
The sound of that voice turns me toward the open doorway.
He may only be seven years older than me, but my brother is sporting a few gray hairs near his temples. They’re a sharp contrast to the dark brown of his hair. His blue eyes are the same shade as mine. They mirror the color of our paternal grandmother’s eyes.
The suit he’s wearing is tailored to fit, as always. As my gaze trails over him, I stop when I spot his left hand.
“Where’s your wife?” I ask.
His right hand darts to the left. His index finger and thumb run a path over his bare ring finger. “That’s none of your business.”
That’s where he’s wrong. His marriage is as much my business as it is his.
Suddenly, Holden glances over his shoulder. “Hey! How are you?”
I move to try and catch a glimpse of who is on the approach behind him.
When Sinclair steps into view, our eyes lock briefly before I clear my throat. “What the hell are you doing here?”
Holden steps aside so she can enter the conference room.
Dressed in a pair of black pants and a light blue blouse, she looks stunning. The heels on her feet grant her a few more inches of height, but I still tower over her as she moves toward me.
“I’m here because Mr. Wismer called me,” she says. “Your grandmother wanted me here.”
On a sharp exhale, I look up at the ceiling as I hold in a laugh because this is classic Denia Sheppard. She definitely got the last word this time.