Chapter 18 Colby #3
“Do you remember a few years back when the news broke about this TV producer who was taking advantage of young artists who were homeless?”
I reel back a little at the question, but then . . .
“Yes, I remember.”
“Okay, well, the first person to come to us with a report of young artists going missing was Michelle Blackwell. Then Brent looked into it, and with his contacts in the NYPD they conducted an investigation. They found out who it was, but didn’t have solid proof.
Michael Ellsworth used his contacts in the media world to get us more information, then his son Eli did his thing—”
“His thing?” I ask.
“He can hack into anything,” Harrison answers quickly then keeps going. “And we had even more information on him. Shirley Wall made sure the IRS looked into him, and I evicted him from his house.”
“How can you evict someone from their own house?” I remember the slimy asshole had a lot of fucking money and a brownstone. There were pictures of him getting arrested just outside it splashed all over the news.
“Because he might’ve owned the building, but I own the land.”
That statement hangs suspended in the room for a long moment until I narrow my eyes at him.
“You own a lot more than people think, huh?”
“I do,” he says simply, but with a satisfied smirk lifting his lips.
“In any case, that’s one of the last times we dealt with something together, but mostly we do our best to put our efforts into fixing the toughest problems the city faces.
Mostly, we let people live. We need to be able to trust the words of our Chair of People to know what’s going on, because frankly, we’re all so far removed from what passes as a normal life here that we can’t imagine it.
“This wasn’t the intended purpose of the Turris when it started, but it’s what it has evolved into.
Yes, we also help each other out. The Altons are everyone’s lawyer, if Michelle needs help with a play, Michael pushes for a promotional spot on a late night show or talk show.
If something scandalous happens at a Certon hotel, then we make up some event to host there to help people get over it faster.
Stuff like that happens regularly. I even bought the Kings when Barclay just couldn’t manage it anymore. ”
“Wow,” I whisper. “It’s like a support group.”
Harrison snorts and shakes his head. When he combs his fingers through his silver hair it strikes me how attractive he is. Yeah, I’ve noticed that before, but tonight . . . I hope it means I’m relaxing around him, because as Eian’s cousin I’m probably going to be seeing him a lot.
“We’re just a bunch of rich assholes trying not to make everything worse.” His sardonic tone has me rethinking some things.
“Sure, but at least you care. What was the original purpose of the Turris?” I’m sure he’s sick of the questions, but I can’t help myself.
“When all our ancestors arrived here they wanted to become kings, in a way they never would back in England. They were all friends of the Duke of York, the King’s brother, and all in their own right were the spare to some type of heir.
When the Duke didn’t like it here, he left it in the capable hands of his best friend, a Crawford.
There were only seven members back then.
But then two hundred years ago, another spare to the heir of the Duke of York came here and demanded a seat at the table, demanded that Crawford build him a place for all his art.
So he was brought into the Turris and his descendants eventually became the Windsors.
” He snorts out a laugh. “They changed their names so no one would forget where they came from, or some bullshit like that, but Crawford retained power over the land, and so he retained power over everyone.”
“Okay.” I breathe out the word, not knowing exactly what will happen next. So I ask.
“I’ve called a meeting for Monday at four. You two should come to the house and we’ll drive down together, but right now Iris and I have a plane to catch so people can see us at the game tomorrow.” Harrison leans forward and starts sorting the papers. “You two have a lot of shit to sign.”
I hang back when Eian leans in too, and I’m surprised when he signs without any visible hesitation. He doesn’t read anything, which is very, very stupid, but it’s just another tell of how much he trusts Harry.
“What do they say?” I ask and nod at the three thick contracts Harrison arranges in front of me.
“It’s mostly the consequences of telling anyone outside the Turris about it, but this is also a list of your duties as heir.”
That reminds me, I . . . “I don’t think I should be Eian’s heir.”
“You’re the only option I have right now, Colby.” It’s such an off-handed thing to say.
I guess some people would hear that and take it in a bad way, but not me. He has to trust me so fucking much to be telling me all this. He wants to protect Bran from his world, and now from this as well.
“Okay, but you still need to figure out who’s going to take over the family, and this .
. . Chair of People when you want to retire or something.
” The last few words come out slower, because it strikes me that Eian won’t stop being the head of the family until he dies, and I really don’t want him to die.
“There’s time for that. In the meantime he needs an heir, not only so everyone at the Turris has someone to talk to if something happens to Eian, but also to consult with. This won’t be easy, Colby. It’s a big responsibility.”
With his steady gaze right on me and a patient smile, Harrison offers me a pen.
Fuck it, I’m in.
It feels weird to wake up so late, but the weirdness quickly disappears when Eian climbs on top of me and kisses me slowly for what seems like hours, before he finally gives into my begging and fucks me.
Morning sex has always been my favorite, but shower morning sex gives it some stiff competition when Eian makes me see stars in his big glass and marble shower.
“I feel so lazy,” I murmur as he pats me down with a soft towel in the foggy bathroom.
“We could be lazy all day, but I think we should save that for another day.” His satisfied voice has shivers breaking out over my whole body.
“Why’s that?”
He smiles down at me when he stands back up, done with drying my legs it seems.
“Harrison told me Bran is bringing Maggie back today.”
“Really?” My heartbeat kicks up immediately, and I don’t care how silly it might be, I run out of the bathroom and out into the hall fully naked. The only thing that could make this better is Eian’s booming laughter sounding from his bedroom.
My leg won’t stop bouncing half an hour later as we sit down to have lunch.
Only Mac, Blake, and Rory show up, so naturally Eian’s frown is back.
“Where the hell is Duffy?” he asks Mac, who snorts in answer and chews his bite of toast faster.
“He’s on a date with his stalker.”
“His what?” Eian asks, voice all dark and sexy. Damn, I need to keep it in my pants.
“Yeah, remember before he went to the hospital, we told you about this dude that’s like obsessed with him and was following him around during the day?”
“I forgot about it,” he grumbles. “You know with him almost dying and everything. Why didn’t you deal with this before today?” He’s back to his demanding self by the end.
“Cause Duffy loves the attention.” Mac rolls his eyes but in an adoring way.
“That dude saw Duffy walking out of a coffee shop last night while we were waiting for you, so I told him to finally go talk to him and tell him to get the hell out of there. Apparently the guy wouldn’t leave unless Duffy promised him a date. ”
Even Rory snorts at that.
Eian just stares at Mac for a long time, though, until he gives in with a sigh.
“Bran, Maggie, and Nan are coming by soon, and Colby will finally meet Nan, but I guess we’ll tell Duffy when he gets back.”
“If he ever gets back,” Blake says with a devilish smirk. “He’s been loving pretending to be the mouse in their little game.”
“Well, if he’s not back tonight, then I’ll be going to get him and he won’t like actually being the mouse.” The threat falls just a little bit flat, but I still wouldn’t want to be Duffy in that scenario.
Still, his absence means we don’t even attempt to tell Mac and Blake about the whole Harrison and Eian being cousins thing, and that means I’m a nervous wreck for the whole meal.
Until I hear a car pull up outside and then I’m sprinting again.
I hear her giggle before I’m even out the door, and stupid tears spring to my eyes, making it look all blurry when I see Bran’s back leaning into the SUV.
He gets Maggie out of her chair, and I know it’s only been like two days, but I still missed her so fucking much. I run to them and wrap my arms around both of them.
“Oh, hey,” Bran says, his tone surprised and uncertain but not uncomfortable, so I keep my head resting against his shoulder and stare at my girl.
Her dark eyes are bright with happiness and her cheeks are round and rosy.
“Look at you.” The Irish lilt of that voice is so warm I can’t help but look behind me.
I can see it.
Eian has her gray eyes, her nose—though his has obviously been broken more than a few times—but her smile is all Harrison.
“It’s so nice to meet you, lad. Your girl’s a treasure.”
Oh, god, she sounds like the most perfect grandma in the world. I look back at Maggie and kiss her cheek.
“Hey, dimples, I missed you.”
Without thinking about it, I lean up and kiss Bran’s cheek too.
“Thank you so much for taking care of her,” I whisper.
“Of course. Here.” He passes her over to me and after another quick squeeze, I walk over to Nan.
“It’s really nice to meet you too, ma’am. Thank you so much for taking care of Maggie. I can tell she loved hanging out with you two.”
“Not a worry,” she says, waving that away with a sentimental smile at my girl. “You had an interesting night,” she says, and there’s humor in her eyes now.
I almost say like you wouldn’t believe, but if anyone would, it’d be her. The Irish girl who crossed the Atlantic looking for her brother and found love.
“I sure have, ma’am.”
“Now stop that,” she chides gently. “Call me Nan, as everyone does.”
I smirk at her and nod.
“All right, Nan. Are you guys hungry? Celly made a feast for lunch.”
They agree, and we walk back to the front door together, where Eian is waiting with his smile that I realize is just for us, just for his family.