Chapter 9
SEBASTIAN
As if it is rising from the landscape, the home I grew up in stands stately in the middle of manicured lawns, immaculate flower beds and stone statues flanking the staircase. Three stories of limestone, massive windows and fieldstone columns stand before us like it is guarding the ranch.
We drive up a circular driveway that can accommodate twenty vehicles. It is impressive, intimidating and utterly soulless. It is everything I didn’t want my resorts to be.
I feel Lennox shift beside me, taking it in as Dad drives us closer, the SUV crunching over perfectly maintained gravel.
Her eyes track over the architecture, the perfect landscaping, the complete absence of anything that suggests this is a working ranch.
No barns visible from here. No cattle. No dust or noise or life beyond the pristine facade.
“Where’s the ranch?” she asks quietly.
“Back behind the ridge,” Dad says, gesturing vaguely. “Eleanor insisted on keeping the house separate from the work areas when we rebuilt twenty years ago. Said she was tired of smelling cow shit during dinner parties.”
Lennox’s jaw tightens, but she doesn’t say anything else.
I understand what she isn’t saying. I did my research after making her my wife, and the ranch she grew up on had the main house positioned to overlook everything: the barns, the pastures, the corrals.
Warren Briggs can stand on his porch and see every aspect of his operation.
That’s ranching to her, not the sanitized version that my family likes to portray.
Dad parks near the front entrance, and immediately the double doors swing open and my mother appears, along with the familiar tightness that forms in my chest whenever I’m in her presence.
Some say it’s anxiety; my father is sure it’s just her reminding us that she was once a mafia princess and is the one who truly controls this family.
She is sixty-three but could pass for fifty.
Blonde hair perfectly styled, makeup flawless in spite of the Texas heat.
She is wearing cream-colored linen pants, a silk blouse and pearls at her throat.
The wedding ring that adorns her hand could fund a small country as it catches the sun and glistens.
“Sebastian!” She descends the steps with practiced grace, arms already reaching for me. “My boy. You’re home.”
I climb out of the SUV and accept her embrace, feeling her evaluate me as she hugs me. Checking that I am presentable, appropriate—living up to the Drake name.
“Hi, Mom.”
She pulls back, gripping my shoulders, her blue eyes scanning my face. “You look good. California agrees with you.” Then her attention shifts past me to where Lennox is emerging from the vehicle. “And this must be your wife.”
Her voice remains warm, but I catch the sharpness underneath. The calculation. My mother doesn’t trust surprises, and a son showing up married without warning is definitely a surprise.
“Lennox,” I say, moving to put my arm around her waist. Claiming her publicly for my mother’s benefit. “This is my mother, Eleanor Drake. Mom, this is Lennox Briggs, Lennox Drake now.”
Ever graceful and poised, Lennox takes a step ahead of me, a warm smile on her face, and she holds out her hand toward my mother. “Mrs. Drake. It’s wonderful to meet you.”
“Eleanor, please.” My mother moves closer, reaching for her hand, and I watch her do exactly what Dad did, assess Lennox from head to toe.
Taking in the expensive clothes I provided, the way Lennox carries herself, the ease at which she interacts with strangers.
“My goodness, you’re even more beautiful than Sebastian described on the phone. ”
“Thank you.” Lennox’s voice is steady; she’s in full control.
“And this whirlwind romance.” Mom winks slightly, her smile staying perfectly, but her eyes are calculating. “Sebastian mentioned you met at the resort? How long ago was that?”
Even though my family all know, this is going to be the story we tell everyone, so she might as well practice now.
“I’ve been at the resort a little over six months,” Lennox says as she moves back to my side. She places her hand on my chest and smiles up at me. As if my arm has a mind of its own, I wrap it around her waist and pull her close.
“She was working in guest relations. I noticed her immediately.” I glance down at Lennox, and she smiles up at me, the picture of a new bride smitten with her husband. She is better than I gave her credit for.
“Six months.” Mom’s tone is carefully neutral. “And you’ve been courting all this time?”
“We’ve been getting to know each other, yes.” Lennox looks to my parents and picks up the conversation perfectly. “It was slow at first, strictly professional. I thought he was an arrogant ass. But then…” She looks back up at me. “Things changed.”
“They certainly did.” I lean down and kiss her temple, feeling her flinch slightly under the public display. “I knew immediately that she was the one. It just took a while to convince her to take a chance on me.”
“Well, son, you can be a little arrogant at times, Lennox isn’t wrong.” Mom’s expression doesn’t change, but I can see the wheels turning. “I’m just glad she’s able to see through that prickly exterior. Come inside, you must be exhausted from the flight. I’ve had a room prepared.”
“We’ll be staying at my house,” I interrupt. “We’re back for a while, so I want Lennox to be comfortable in her new home.”
Mom’s eyebrows rise. “Sebastian, your home hasn’t been opened in months. The staff haven’t had a chance to clean it.”
“I called ahead. It’s ready.” I start walking toward the SUV, keeping my hand on Lennox. “But we’ll come up for cocktails and dinner. What time?”
“Seven.” Gone is the warm, performative Eleanor and in her place is the woman who could terrify men at a hundred paces with a look alone.
She doesn’t like being contradicted, especially not in front of guests.
“Your siblings are eager to meet Lennox. The girls are beside themselves with excitement about having a new aunt.”
Nathaniel’s twins. Christ, I’d forgotten about them.
“We’ll be here,” I promise. “Just need a few hours to settle in and clean up from traveling first.”
Mom’s eyes narrow slightly, and I know she can read my mind. A few hours to settle in means a few hours to fuck my new wife before subjecting her to family scrutiny. Which is accurate, but she doesn’t need me to confirm that.
“Of course.” Mom turns her attention back to Lennox, and her smile returns, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. “I look forward to getting to know you better, dear. It’s not every day my son brings home a wife. And from such a good family, too.”
“I look forward to it as well, Eleanor.” Lennox’s smile never changes.
“Wonderful. Seven o’clock then. Don’t be late, you know how your father gets.”
“I’m right here, Eleanor,” my father huffs, and Lennox lets out a small giggle.
Mom pats his chest before heading back up the steps and disappearing inside, leaving us alone with Dad.
“Life’s different around here now, and she’s been waiting for you to settle down and come home for years. It’s a lot of change in a short time,” Dad says, leaning against the SUV.
“Well, we’re here now, there’s nothing I can do about some of the changes but we’ll help where we can.
” I know the situation with Nathaniel is weighing on both of them.
He’s fired every nanny my mother found, is working all hours of the day and night, is ignoring his life, and left Mom as full-time caregiver for the twins.
Maybe Lennox can help her out now that we are here.
He pushes off the vehicle and nods. “Seven it is. Welcome home, Sebastian.” He tips his hat to Lennox. “Ma’am.”
Then he heads toward the house, leaving us alone in the circular driveway with enough luggage to make it clear Lennox has no intention of leaving anytime soon.
I move the bags from Dad’s SUV to my truck that has been left for us, one of the newer F-350s, black, with the Drake logo on the doors, and gesture for Lennox to climb in.
“I figured you just stayed with your family when you came back. Where is your house?” she asks as I start the engine.
“About a mile from here, past the ridge.” I pull out of the driveway and head down a dirt road that curves away from the main house.
“It was built in the 1870s by my great-great-grandfather. Mom hates it, she always says it’s too rustic, too much like actual ranch life.
So she convinced Dad to build that ridiculous palace back there and moved the family twenty years ago. ”
“And you live in the old house?”
“I do now. I claimed it ten years ago when I got tired of Mom monitoring my every move.” I glance at her. “She wanted me where she could control everything. I wanted freedom to do as I please and work on the ranch how I wanted to.”
“But you left for California?”
“I left to build my own empire,” I correct her. “But I always come back. This is home, even if I don’t live here full time.”
The road climbs slightly, cresting the ridge Dad had mentioned, and suddenly the view changes completely.
Below us, spread across the valley, is the actual Devil’s Ridge Ranch operation.
Massive barns, a network of corrals and pastures, cattle grazing in organized sections, horses in separate paddocks.
Equipment sheds, working facilities, cowboys on horseback moving through it all like a choreographed dance.
This is what Lennox has been looking for. This is the ranch. And my home sits right at the top of the ridge, overlooking everything.
It is built from Texas limestone and weathered timber, sprawling and solid, with a wraparound porch that has rocking chairs and looks like it has been there forever.
The roof’s metal, aged to a dark patina.
Windows are the original wavy glass in some places, replaced with modern versions in others.
It is beautiful in a completely different way from the main house.
I pull up to the front and kill the engine. “Welcome home.”