Chapter 39
After a few more errands that took most of the day, I was ready to go home to my wife. My wife. Shit, I really did like the sound of that. With a grin, I collapsed onto the plush seat of my plane. I pulled my phone from my pocket to let Snow know I was on my way, but I only found a few texts from her already waiting for me.
My grin widened as I tapped on the icon and opened her messages.
My wife: Your office is big and lonely without you in it.
My wife: At least Tamara is good company. And a great storyteller. I love hearing all about grumpy Liam.
Laughing softly, I quickly typed a response.
Me: Don’t believe everything she tells you.
Her text was time-stamped over two hours prior, and I knew it was time for her to leave the office. I’d just started typing my next message when the dots started jumping. I erased everything I’d typed, I waited.
My wife: Oh, I don’t know. The stories do sound so believable.
My fingers flew over the screen.
Me: Sounds like you had a good day, then?
Her response was immediate.
My wife: A productive one. Can’t wait to show you everything.
My wife: This year’s year-end function will be amazing…if I do say so myself.
Me: YOU are amazing.
Me: What are you doing?
My wife: Heading home now. I ordered noodles from that place you like.
I reread her message twice and still couldn’t figure out why my heart wanted to leap out of my chest.
Me: Be safe. Text me the moment you’re there.
“The pilot is ready whenever you are, sir.” The flight attendant’s voice sounded from beside me.
I looked up from my phone to see her standing in the aisle with her hands clasped behind her back. My gaze dropped to the now black screen in my hand. I frowned. Once we were in the air, there was no way for me to communicate with Snow. I wouldn’t know if she’d made it home safe.
“I’m not ready,” I told her. “I’ll let you know when I am.”
She gave me a slight nod then spun around. My attention was back on my phone before she even took her first step. I scrolled back to Snow’s message from earlier, the one where she’d told me she’d ordered dinner.
It was something so ordinary, so domestic. My heart bounced like a wild animal, beating to an unnaturally fast rhythm. And I realized this was what it felt like to be loved. The feeling was indescribable and so big, I feared my body couldn’t contain it.
I stared at that message until I-didn’t-even-know-how-many minutes later a new text from Snow popped up. She’d written she was home and then sent me a photo—a selfie of her snuggled on the couch holding a book in front of her.
Me: Gorgeous. What are you reading?
Her next message took a while to come through, and when it did, I understood why.She’d written almost three paragraphs explaining the premise of her book. I hadn’t seen her, hadn’t heard her voice, but it was impossible not to envision the excitement on her face as she spoke about these fictional characters she was so invested in.
Me: Sounds intriguing.
The dots started, then stopped, then started up again. Three times it happened like that before her text came through.
My wife: Are you making fun of me?
Clearly, texting wasn’t conveying my tone correctly. I called her instead.
“Hi.” Her sweet voice filtered through the line after the second ring.
“I’d never make fun of you,” I said by way of greeting. “What makes you happy makes me happy. Got it?”
A faint laugh filtered through the line. “Got it. Will you be home soon?”
Something hot and sharp unfurled behind my ribs, so incredibly intense I brushed my fingers over the spot.
“Just about ready for takeoff,” I said, my voice rough with emotion. “I have one more meeting when I land, and then I’m coming home.”
“That’s good.” She paused, and when she spoke again, her voice was cheerful. “And you’re still not going to tell me where you went? Your note this morning was very vague, and you’ve ignored every message about where you are.”
I didn’t feel fantastic about keeping the truth from her, but I knew if I’d told her earlier where I’d gone and what I’d wanted to do, she’d have stopped me.
“Nope.” I chuckled. “It’s killing you, isn’t it, my curious little wife?”
“Oh my gosh, yes.”
I laughed again. “Maybe if you pick a really, really good scene from that book you’re reading, I’ll tell you.”
Snow sucked in a breath. I knew the sound so well. If I stood before her right that second, I’d see those pretty eyes growing wide as she tugged her lip between her teeth.
“We never did get to recreate one of your book scenes, did we?” I went on, lowering my voice. “We’ll have to fix that.”
“Yes,” she breathed out.
Fuck, just hearing her voice all soft and wispy like that had me rock-hard in two seconds flat. Thank heaven I was the only passenger on the plane and the single attendant I had kept herself busy elsewhere.
“Find that scene, Snow, and I promise I’ll more than make up for leaving you alone in bed this morning.”
With another sexy “Yes” falling from her lips, we said our goodbyes. As much as I hated letting her go, I was just as anxious to be home with her. That desperate need to be with her quickly made way for something else when I drove along a familiar winding driveway a few hours later.
I’d swore I’d never go back there but knew if I wanted to give my future with Snow the chance it deserved, it was something I had to do.
That was why, even though my heart beat two times too fast, I walked up to the door and tapped the thick knocker against the wood. I wasn’t too surprised when Bailey opened the door a few moments later.
My grandfather never could do anything himself. And things like answering a door were beneath him, after all.
“Master Liam,” the old butler said with a slight bow. “What a pleasant surprise.”
I was no master of him, but the one time I’d convinced him to call me by my first name, we’d both felt the wrath of Theodor Maxwell Sr.
“Good to see you, Bailey.”
He moved to the side, and I stepped into the house where I’d spent most of my childhood. A tangible uneasiness settled beneath my skin, dripping into my pores and moving through my veins like a living, breathing thing.
I hated this place. Hated what it stood for. But most of all, I hated the fucking secrets it kept.
“Your grandfather is in his study,” Bailey interrupted my thoughts. “Shall I inform him of your presence?”
Shaking my head, I pulled my phone out. “If it’s all the same, I’d rather surprise him.” After pressing a few buttons, I slid the device back into my pocket and turned my attention to the older man. “If he gives you shit when I leave, know that I can and will take care of you and your wife. You no longer have to stay here and deal with him.”
Without waiting for his response, I went to my grandfather’s study. It was on the other side of the mansion, and walking down the hallways felt like walking to my doom.
With an internal growl, I shoved the feeling aside because fuck if I’d allow him or his sickening bloodline to have a hold on me any longer. It ended here and now. With that thought, I managed to keep myself steady until I stood before his door.
For a fraction of a moment, I was a young boy crying about the loss of his mother with a hardened man standing in front of him, yelling that it was about time he got over it.
Squeezing my eyes shut, I willed my mind away from the memory. It didn’t take much effort for a new image to form. Dark hair, green eyes, and the most beautiful smile I’d ever seen.
It was so vivid, it was as if she stood in front of me, giving me the courage to do what needed to be done. With a deep breath, I held on to that, on to her, and pushed my way into the library.
“Evening, Grandfather.”
I’d caught the fucker with his hand down his pants while he stared at heaven only knew what on the laptop screen in front of him. I had half a mind to snap a picture and hold it over his head like he’d done regarding my indiscretions.
But I wasn’t like him.
“How the fuck did you get in here?” he bellowed as he frantically shut the computer and fastened his pants. “Well?”
I shrugged. “Does the how matter more than the why?”
“Fine. I’ll play your little game,” he sneered. “Why are you here?”
Slowly moving closer to his desk, I made a show of looking around. “I can’t help but notice Shane’s absence. Didn’t you get him out of jail?”
My grandfather narrowed his eyes. “What did you do?”
“As of about an hour ago, your dearest grandson was taken into custody yet again. His bail was revoked, and his one phone call never materialized.” Bracing my fingers on the edge of his desk, I leaned forward. “No amount of money you throw at the system will help him now. I’ve made sure of it. He’ll pay for putting his filthy fucking hands on my wife.”
The old bastard threw his head back and laughed heartily. “Oh, that’s rich,” he said when he finally caught his breath. “You’re throwing a hissy fit because Shane gave her what she asked for. You can’t possibly believe he’d seek out a woman like that on his own accord. She offered it on a silver platter.” He, too, leaned forward. “Because that’s what fat whores do.”
I didn’t think. My hand shot out, and I curled my fingers around his tie. With one hard yank, I pulled him over the desk until our faces were mere inches apart.
“I swore I’d never lift my hands in anger again, but if you keep talking about my wife like that, I’ll gladly make a fucking exception.” My grip on his tie tightened and tightened until his face turned an angry shade of red.
Roughly letting him go, I straightened and smoothed my palm down the front of my shirt.
“Before you remind me that I am indeed my father’s son, remember that I let you live. I did not murder you in cold blood like he did my mother, and I didn’t cover it up with my filthy money like you did.”
My grandfather loosened his tie and tugged it from his neck before dropping it to the floor. “You’ve been singing that same sad song all your life, and yet you’re unable to prove any of it.”
“I know what I saw!” I yelled. “And you know it, too. He phoned you right after he strangled my mother and beat the shit out of me. And you were all too fucking happy to cover it up.”
I didn’t know what I’d expected, but it sure as shit wasn’t for him to laugh like a maniacal fuck.
“My son was a moron. If he’d done the job properly, there wouldn’t have been a body to begin with. Nevertheless, he was my son, and I wasn’t about to tarnish my name by having the public label him as a wife-beating murderer. So yes, I covered it up, and when the idiot somehow grew a conscience from all his drinking and wanted to confess to the police, I showed him how to do it properly.”
My jaw dropped. “You were responsible for his accident?”
“If by responsible you mean: did I pay the truck driver to run him over…” He shrugged. “Then yes, I guess I am.”
Funny how I couldn’t bring myself to mourn the loss of my father, even now knowing he’d at some point regretted it, I just couldn’t.
“You’re a bastard,” I told him, already backing away. “This game you’re playing? It’s done. So fucking done. You will stay away from me and, most importantly, from my wife. I have no desire to dirty my hands, but for you, dear grandfather, I will.”
Spinning on my heel, I marched out of his study and out of his house, feeling much lighter than I had walking in.