Chapter 16
STERLING
O n Friday night, I was still standing in the hallway outside the whiskey room at my parents’ house, frowning at my phone like it had personally offended me.
Laney Rhodes: I don’t like diamonds.
That was what she’d said. No sure answer, but no fluff either. Just a single statement of preference.
Even so, it should’ve felt like victory. A deal closed. My future secured. If she was telling me what she liked in reference to a ring, it must mean that she’d signed the papers, but I didn’t feel that rush of satisfaction I usually did.
I didn’t feel smug, triumphant, or like I’d accomplished what I’d set out to. Instead, it felt like someone had pulled the ripcord and now I was waiting to see if the parachute opened.
Behind the door, I could hear the low murmur of voices, of crystal clinking against decanters, the sound of my brothers laughing with Mom and Dad after our weekly family dinner. Normally, I’d be in there with them, making small talk and ducking my mother’s questions with polite charm.
So far, she’d held off questioning me about my mysterious guest who hadn’t shown up tonight, but I knew that wouldn’t last. As soon as I walked in there, she’d wonder out loud why there was no one on my arm and what had happened to the person I’d mentioned I might be bringing.
I was still debating how to spin it when Jameson strolled out into the hall looking like he’d just walked out of a photoshoot for Modern Aristocrats Gone Bad Weekly . His hair was slightly mussed, the top buttons of his shirt undone, and that lazy, I-don’t-give-a-shit smirk on his lips.
“Do you always scowl at your phone like that, or is tonight special?” he asked. “You’ve been checking it a lot more often than you usually do.”
I slipped the phone into my pocket. “Business.”
Jamie shrugged but eyed me like he knew I wasn’t being entirely truthful.
He didn’t push. He rarely did. That was one of his many talents, knowing exactly when to press and when to let people lie.
He leaned a shoulder against the wall, leather jacket draped over his arm, his eyes drifting toward the door.
“Are you leaving already?” I asked. “It’s a bit early. Even for you.”
He gave me another lazy shrug. “I came. I saw. I conquered. Enough said.”
He hadn’t really said anything at all, but I sighed, shaking my head before tilting it toward the whiskey room. “Never mind. Dad’s in there, right?”
“Probably with his nightly dram of scotch already half done,” he replied. “Good night, big brother. I’d better get going before I turn into a pumpkin.”
“Right,” I murmured distractedly. “Because you have so far to go before you’ll get home.”
He chuckled. “Don’t knock it till you try it.”
“What, living with Mom and Dad into my thirties?” I scoffed. “Not likely. I like having my own space.”
Not that he didn’t have his own space. The place he called home might’ve been on our parents’ property, but it was a manor tucked into the woods at the corner of the estate. He and Callum, our youngest middle brother, born after Jamie, each had one.
Harrison, our youngest brother, was only twenty-three. He was still living in the house with our parents, but considering he had his own wing now that the rest of us had moved out, he still had more space and privacy available to him than anyone living in a large suburban home in the city.
Jameson let his smirk fly free again. “I have my own space, brother. I just don’t have to waste my own money paying for it. Despite your judgment, however, I’ll still do you a solid. Just because I love you.”
“A solid?” I frowned. “What kind of favor do you think I need?”
“Mom is currently bickering with Harrison. If you’ve got something to say to Dad, now’s probably your best shot.”
I arched an eyebrow. “What’s she arguing with him about this time?”
I only asked because I needed to figure out if now was, in fact, my best shot of speaking to my father without Mom overhearing. She was my biggest opposition in keeping this whole marriage thing a secret until the contract had been signed, sealed, and delivered.
Once she found out her eldest was getting married, it would be all over the proverbial wire within minutes. The news needed to spread, but not now. Not yet.
Jameson grinned. “Harrison thinks his startup is going to ‘revolutionize the way we interact with curated experiences.’”
“What does that even mean?”
“I have absolutely no idea, but I think it’s code for ‘this time, I blew my seed money on a branding consultant and artisan beanbags.’”
I snorted. “Then he wonders why Dad isn’t taking him seriously just yet.”
“Fair enough, but the kid wants to be in acquisitions. I say it’s time we stop indulging all these other ventures and simply let him be in acquisitions.
” Jameson let out a bark of dry laughter, then sobered slightly.
“Whatever you’ve got brewing, just don’t let Mom find out about it from someone else, yeah? It’d kill her.”
I gave a short nod. “So would her finding out you’re up to whatever you’re up to tonight. I know you’re not just going to crawl into bed when it’s barely eight. Be safe, Jamie.”
He pumped his eyebrows at me and pushed away from the wall, and I turned, heading for the whiskey room. This was it. My window. The slim, precious gap before my mother realized that the woman I was supposed to be parading in front of the family tonight was going to be my wife.
Before the gossip phone tree was activated and the whispers started. Before she began pulling at threads I couldn’t afford to unravel.
Dad would be the first to know. The only one who might understand, even if he didn’t like my choice once he learned more about her.
I found him exactly where Jameson said he’d be, settled into one of the leather armchairs near the fireplace, glass in hand, his reading glasses pushed up on his forehead like he’d forgotten they were there.
“Got a minute?” I asked, standing in the doorway.
He looked up, mildly surprised, but nodded. “Sure. Let’s go to my office.”
I glanced over at Mom and Harrison, but neither of them even seemed to have noticed me. They were sitting together at the other side of the room, both of them gripping their glasses as their animated, but very loving and gentle, argument continued.
Harrison was her baby. He always would be, no matter how old he got.
Dad followed my gaze. Chuckling, he gave his head a small shake. He came over to me, leading the way to his study down the hall. Once we walked into it, he looked at me over his shoulder. “Close the door, would you?”
I did. The latch clicked behind me like the sound of a line being drawn. Dad moved over to a similar armchair in front of yet another fire, sitting down and gesturing toward the chair opposite him.
I sat, elbows on my knees, watching the amber liquid swirl in his glass before I got up to pour my own drink. As I walked over to the cart in the corner, he spoke up. “Are you planning on telling me why half the estate staff has been running around like it’s the Queen’s coronation week?”
His tone was curious, but not unkind. I lifted the heavy decanter and carefully filled a tumbler standing next to it, bringing the drink to my lips and taking a sip when I was done.
I didn’t respond just yet, needing the single malt to steady my nerves before I trusted myself with this particular revelation.
“You’ve got the event coordinator calling me to check the details for something I didn’t know was happening,” he said. “Poor Molly swears the landscaping team is prepping for a statement photo op of sorts. Should I be worried?”
“No,” I said, turning to face him and striding back to my chair. “I’m getting married, is all.”
His glass froze midair but quickly resumed its path to his lips as he regained his composure with impressive speed. He took a slow sip. Swallowed. Brought those cool blue eyes I’d inherited directly to mine. “Married.”
“Yes.”
“To…?”
“Her name is Laney Rhodes.” I took a breath. “She’s from an old local family as I mentioned before, but I doubt they move in circles you’d know. Anyhow, she’s agreed to the contract you approved the draft of. There were only minor amendments. Mostly pertaining to clarification of the wording.”
I brought my glass to my lips, my mouth suddenly bone dry, but after taking a fortifying sip, I went on giving him the highlight reel of the most important things he needed to know.
“She runs her own business, a baby supply store that also serves the community with various classes, events, and networking opportunities.”
Although I hadn’t meant to, I found myself rattling off a list of her qualities like she was a company we were in the process of acquiring.
“I think you’re going to like her. She’s sharp.
Efficient. Good instincts. Her numbers are clean and tight, and she has zero debt.
I met her when I bought the majority shares in her business. Our office handled the due diligence.”
He didn’t interrupt. He just watched me with that same unreadable expression he always wore when the stakes were high and our world would soon be watching.
“She doesn’t come from big money, but she knows how to manage it. Better than most of the trust fund kids we’ve had to clean up after. She doesn’t have any skeletons in her closet. We ran the full profile and she came up squeaky clean.”
“Laney Rhodes,” he repeated slowly. Then recognition sparked in his eyes. “Any relation to Matthew Rhodes? He used to be rather prominent on the business scene before he got divorced, took early retirement, and went off the radar.”
“No, not that I’m aware of. Her father’s name is Vincent Rhodes. He’s a career detective. Homicide.”
One of his eyebrows lifted. “A detective?”
“Apparently a good one,” I said. “From what we’ve been able to ascertain, he’s dedicated. Hard-working. Tough as nails, but fair. Laney’s mother passed away several years ago, but there were no red flags in her history either.”
He leaned back, nodding faintly, but still not giving any outward sign of either approval or disapproval. Just that maddeningly neutral expression he’d passed on to all of us boys like a dominant gene.
When he finally spoke again, his voice was quiet, but confident. “Well, it sounds like you’ve made up your mind.”
“I have.”
“Do you like her or have you simply chosen her because she seems like the kind of person who can be thrust into this amount of money without her spending it at the drop of a hat?”
The question landed like a slap I’d agreed to in advance. Not because it hurt, but because I’d known it was coming. Again.
“I respect her,” I replied carefully. “She’s competent and she doesn’t scare easy. She’s also not impressed by money. She wants what I want. Stability. A clear path. A future she can build on.”
Without missing a beat, he asked, “And the baby?”
“She’s on board,” I said. “We’re aligned on that.”
He was quiet for a long moment, then gave me a faint smile. “Well. Congratulations seem to be in order, son.”
“Thank you.” I exhaled, tension bleeding out of my shoulders before I even realized I’d been holding it.
He tilted his head. “Does your mother know?”
“Not yet.”
His smile deepened, something close to amusement creeping into his eyes. “You’re not trying to die young, are you?”
“She’ll want a wedding,” I said flatly. “A real one, but that will have to come later. Laney and I have other priorities, like work and smoothing out all the logistics. We’ll manage the ceremony when it makes sense. If it makes sense.”
His smile faded, but he didn’t say anything. I waited, just in case there was more. Perhaps advice or even a quiet rebuke for keeping this from Mom. Or maybe something about all the things about this kind of arrangement I didn’t understand yet, but he just raised his glass slightly in my direction.
“To priorities,” he said.
I clinked mine against it. “To getting things done.”
About an hour later, I was on my way home, the ringing of a call that hadn’t been picked up yet echoing through my speakers. I knew he would pick up though, my favorite jeweler. He’d take a call from me any time of day and he’d never failed to come through before.
“Mr. Westwood,” he said curtly when he answered. “What can I do for you this evening, sir?”
I swallowed past the strange burning sensation in my throat and rolled my shoulders. “Do you have any ruby rings, Ollie? I need something by tomorrow morning and it needs to be worthy of a queen. Absolutely nothing that you wouldn’t want pictured on the finger of royalty will do.”