Chapter 15
Chapter Fifteen
Blair
W hen I exited the Atlanta airport, I got into my rental and headed to Tuxedo Park. This place was the crème-de-la-crème of rich folk in the old South, where the average home was worth $2.54 Million. The estate Papa and Mama owned was worth five times that, with a gated drive, a jeweled ballroom, and seven-bedroom suites.
I knew dropping in on Wentworth would shake him off his game, hopefully enough that I could figure out what he was plotting. It was Black Friday, so there was no way Wentworth was at the office. I’d probably catch him in the home gym slicing through the ten-by-thirty-foot pool.
When I got to the gate and the willow slowly swaying overhead, I punched in the code and drove up to the manor. Initially, it had been on an old governor’s home back in the 1800s, but now it was retrofitted and upgraded with all the modern conveniences a man like my Dad could afford—and that was a lot.
I parked in the five-car garage and took the elevator to the third floor, not interested in seeing Daddy or Mama before I got to Wentworth. I got to the pool room and barged in, not caring if he was star-fishing in the nude.
As expected, he was swimming like a snake through the water. I came to stand at the edge of the pool before he surfaced and jolted back at seeing me. Peeling his goggles off, Wentworth crossed the edge and folded his arms on the tile.
“Oh, dear sister, so common sense has prevailed, then,” he said. “Glad to see you.”
“Why did you want me back?” I asked.
He tried to pull the innocent look, like a cobra rearing to strike, instead of the cherub he thought he looked like. “Can’t I just want to see my sister for the holidays?”
“And pigs will fly,” I told him. “Why are you wasting my time?”
He heaved himself out of the water, went for his towel, and took his sweet time toweling off. “You missed it last night, but I wanted you to meet someone.”
Oh God. “No.”
“Come on, Blair, you have to start meeting good men,” Wentworth said. “And I know the best ones.”
I narrowed my eyes. “What did you tell this guy?”
“That you’d be his date for the Christmas ball and perhaps even more,” he said while flopping on the seat. “I’m only looking out for you, Blair. When was the last time you had a good relationship?”
“When was the last time you had one that didn’t involve you staring into a mirror and your right hand?” I asked pointedly.
He bellow-laughed. “I am not that shallow.”
“You are, but I won't debate with you on that,” I said. I had every right to go and tell him to fuck himself, but the same voice that told me to come and see what was happening told me to play his game a little longer until I found out why he truly wanted me there.
“Who is the mysterious guy?” I asked.
“Dr. Alexander Ricola,” he said. “He is a biotech genius and quite good-looking, if I do say so myself. He’s exactly the type of man who is best for you.”
No, that type is a surly cowboy back on a ranch in Montana.
“And do you have this genius guy's number?” I asked.
“I’ll call him,” he said. “He can come by later this evening. I promise you, you’ll like him.”
“That’s for you to decide,” I said, turning away, my boots slapping on the wet tile as I headed to Dad’s study to greet him. I was halfway sure he already knew I was there but was waiting for me to come to him instead of him coming to me.
After that, I’d go to my rooms and change; I still had a few good clothes there, and if I didn’t, I would have my credit cards and the best shopping districts around.
Dad’s study was a bastion of male ambiance, all woods and leather furnishing, oak bookshelves, and Moroccan rugs. I knocked on the door and waited for him to tell me to come in before I did. Dad bowed his silvering head over an old-fashioned ledger instead of the accounting software on his Mac.
“Hey, Dad,” I said. “Surprised to see me?”
He looked up. “The sensor from the gate told me you were here, so no. I am happy to see you, though you missed Thanksgiving.”
And I was sure it was as cold and clinical as always. It was hardly as warm and welcoming as the one I had in Montana.
“Is Mom home?” I asked.
“She is, but she went out to have lunch with some of her friends,” he said. “I suspect you’ll see her at dinner.”
“Do you know Dr. Alexander Ricola? One of Wentworth’s friends?” I asked him.
“Ah yes, I met him last night. A very bright fellow with a bright future in biotechnology,” Dad said.
If Dad had met and thought highly of him, maybe he wasn’t so bad. Still, I didn’t trust Wentworth as far as I could throw him. “I see. I am meeting him later on, so I’ll have to change. Tell her to come to my room if Mom comes home before I go.”
I headed to my suite and got into the shower after taking out a decent suit to wear. Half an hour later, I was back downstairs just as Wentworth called me into his office. I stepped in to see a man standing near the window, a glass of whiskey in hand and staring out at the extensive backyard and the rose garden my mother had planted.
How had Wentworth gotten him here so fast? Was he on speed dial?
“You must be the good doctor about to save the world from fossil fuels,” I said while stepping in.
He turned, and I saw sharp hazel eyes behind rimless glasses, his brown hair cut at the nape and swept away from his forehead. He smiled. “You’re just as beautiful as your brother mentioned you would be.”
His British accent ran over me, but it didn’t make me shiver as Dallas' dry drawl did.
“I regret not meeting you last night, but things were out of my control,” I replied. “Where is Wentworth? ”
“He went to get another bottle of whiskey from the cellars,” he replied. “Please, tell me about yourself.”
We started a decent conversation, and the more I learned about him, the more I had to admit that Wentworth was right, regrettably—he was the kind of man I’d have loved to meet. But I still felt there was more to this arrangement than I was told.
Alexander was a decent guy and didn’t flash his education—or the lack of it, in my brother's case—like a fool. I could hear it when he spoke and told me about his work with biotech and his use of bioethanol production from sargassum seaweed in tropical countries.
“That is my pet project, though,” he said. “My main focus is creating AI algorithms to detect traits of human diseases such as cancer cells. And the odd robot or two.”
Robots—that caught my attention.
That was something I knew Wentworth would be interested in. He wouldn’t give a rat’s ass about cancer. As I was about to ask him more, Wentworth returned, and the conversation turned to the upcoming social engagements our class was about to attend.
“Our Christmas ball will be exquisite,” Wentworth slipped into his office chair, grinning like the damned Cheshire cat.
I knew he thought he had something, but I was not fooled. There was more to this—I just had to find out. While Alexander and Wentworth talked about a governor’s party at New Year's, I got my cell out and accessed the recording app. I waited until the two finished speaking, and Alexander said he had another meeting to head to before I said goodbye to them. I shoved the cell between the chair’s cushions, leaving it recording.
“I’m going to get some sleep,” I said. “Jet lag. ”
“See you at dinner,” he said smugly.
When I got to my room, I closed the door, took my tablet from my handbag, and accessed my phone. There was nothing yet, but when I saw my recording app begin to dance, I knew I had something. Tapping it open, I heard Wentworth’s smarmy voice on the phone.
“—Yes, I know…I introduced them today. If all goes well, I’ll have an interview with the biotech company. The stock will go through the roof in the next quarter, and I want to make good use of it. Why not get another half a billion dollars?”
I scowled. “Of fucking course.”
“Hm? No, no,” Wentworth said. “I would hope she’ll have a relationship with him that will sweeten the pot, but that is not here nor there. The stock is mine regardless.”
Oh, fuck no, I was not going to be his pawn in this chess game. I’d better castle his king and checkmate his ass. All I had to do was wait.
My moment came a day later when Wentworth drove us to the country club for luncheon. The Rodenhouse Country Club was a place that reeked of elegance. The thousand-count napkins were more expensive than an average person’s monthly salary.
I wanted to be a scalpel tonight, get in, cut out the cancer growing under my skin, and get out. I didn’t even care to sew up the wound. While heading there, I could hear the gentle hum of voices and the clink of glasses from down the hallway as I headed to the tables on the patio. The small round tables were set with delicate china, and I sipped from a complimentary glass of champagne I’d been offered upon entering.
Holding my head high, I strode through the room, and while I faintly remembered some of the people milling about, I know no one. There were admiring looks aimed at my white pants outfit, though, but I ignored them.
Where were Wentworth and the good doctor? I had a flight to catch.
I spotted my mother talking to a lady four cousins thrice removed from the Grand Duke of Luxemburg and tried to find Wentworth somewhere among the mingling guests. I didn’t want to do this before Mom, but I needed to make a point.
“Blair,” Mom called me over, her blond hair tucked behind an ear. “So good to see you out and about, darling.”
“Thanks, Mom. I’m sorry I am a bit late,” I said, looking over her shoulder to see Wentworth coming down a corridor with a woman in his arms. She was a mass of strawberry blond frou-frou with longer legs than was feasibly possible.
The poor girl— what spiel of lies had he told her already?
I’m sorry, Mom.
When he came over, he introduced the girl as some Senator’s daughter, and while Mom fussed over her, I stared at Wentworth.
He stared back. “Something on your mind, dear sister?”
“When were you going to tell me I was a pawn in your game to get in with Doctor Ricola’s stock?” I asked calmly. “Did you think that me dating him would further your cause? Do you know how creepy that was? It’s like you were putting me on the auction block and screaming for any takers.”
The smile on his face slipped a little .
“Don’t even ask me how I know about your ploy to get another half a billion dollars,” I threw his words back at him so the rusty gears in his brain would finally start turning. “I am sorry to say your little game didn’t work. So now, thanks for nothing but some air miles.”
The patio was dead silent, and nobody even pretended not to be hideously fascinated with the building altercation. It was terrific, I thought, how being in Wentworth's presence raised every hackle I had and fried all my nerves to shit.
“My mistake,” Wentworth ground out, his lips tight in an overly polite smile. “I thought you would like a partner who was more than arm candy.”
“Funny you should call it that,” I replied, eyeing his date. “Now, excuse me, I have a plane to catch.” I leaned in to hug Mom and whispered in her ear, “Sorry about that.”
Handing her my glass, I left the club and hopped into the rental, heading right to the airport. I had been late because I’d been plum-plucked, clueless about what to get Dallas for Christmas. Dallas did not strike me as a guy who liked ornamentation, so I’d ordered him a set of Smith and Wesson folding knives and a new Stetson.
While waiting to board, I called my Mom to tell her in no uncertain terms that I would not be some lackey in Wentworth’s scheme.
She sighed. “I know, sweetheart, and I am sorry he tried to get you into a messy situation for his gain. I’ll talk to him.”
“Thanks,” I replied.
When she hung up, I called Dallas and told him my plans. The four-hour flight at two would have me landing at four p.m. his time.
“That was quick,” he said. “Were you right, though? ”
“Very,” I said grimly. “I’ll tell you about it when I get home though.”
“Home,” he echoed. “I like the sound of that.”