Chapter Thirteen
Austin
T he wrought iron fence lines the property between red brick pillars.
Guarding the top of these pillars are stone lions, their pose hunched as if peering over at those who dare enter.
Teeth bared, stance ready to pounce. I press the button on the silver box, which seems out of place with the old-fashioned entrance.
The buzzer clicks off, and an unknown voice answers.
I state my name and purpose, and after a brief hesitation, the gates slowly open.
The gravel drive is going to destroy my wheel arches, but I need to do this.
The obnoxiously long drive is littered with armed guards, all eyeing my car suspiciously.
And why wouldn’t they? I’ve only been here a handful of times in the last ten years. It’s not like we socialize.
I pull up to the manor house. Corinthian-style columns adorn the front of the house, with two large doors ushering you into the foyer. If you’re not born with class, you can just buy it.
I don’t expect him to be standing outside the front of the house, but he is.
I would have thought he’d have me brought to his office so he could finish some work while I watched and waited.
Perhaps if I’d given him fair warning of my arrival he would have thought to do that.
Power plays are his strength, but only when he’s prepared.
“You’re wearing jeans,” he remarks with a slight hint of disgust .
“Hello, brother. What a spectacular observation.” I look down at my jeans and mahogany leather boots.
“I haven’t seen you in anything but a suit since we were teenagers. It looks...odd.”
Not sure if that’s a compliment or not.
“And you’re wearing the Tom Ford. Your best one, in my opinion, Augustus.”
He sniffs, tugging at the bottom of the suit, flattening the crease where he’s been sitting in it. He eyes me suspiciously, despite my compliment being genuine. We’re not often nice to each other, but if we are, it comes at a cost.
“Why are you here?”
“We need to talk.”
“Obviously,” he sneers.
“Can I come in?” I ask.
He eyes me up and down once more before turning back into the house. He leaves the door open for me, so I presume that’s an invitation.
I follow him to the west wing, yes, the west wing .
Leading to his office, he heads straight for his liquor cabinet.
A crystal decanter houses the warm amber liquid, and he uncharacteristically pours me a glass before taking a seat in his large wingback chair, which reminds me of an overcompensating villain chair.
The top almost reaches above his head, and I have a sudden vision of him spinning on it for a big reveal, stroking a cat while he’s at it.
The rest of the room is lined with old books and artifacts, some of which I know to be stolen. A particular painting hangs from an old-fashioned frame. I’m sure I read about it in the papers a few weeks ago. Didn’t that get stolen from a museum?
“I don’t have all day. Let’s get down to it.”
His face is stony. A surge of annoyance grates at my skin. Danny and Olivia were so happy to see each other. And despite a few choice words that Danny needed to have removed from his vocabulary, they’ve always seemed to get along. They support each other. They love each other.
“I wanted to let you know Dad has been harassing me to compete with you for the business. I’ve told him I’m not interested.”
He sits for a while, his face white and pale. The guy is lacking vitamin D, that’s for sure.
“Why are you telling me this?”
I sigh. “I’m tired of fighting with you. It should have been me and you against Dad this whole time, not each other.”
He smirks, the curl of lip mocking. “It was hardly a competition. I’m the oldest and it’s my right.”
I don’t want to argue the point. “Agreed. And I want no part of the business. I have my own endeavors that keep me busy. I came to warn you that Dad might try and make it seem otherwise.”
He nods, sipping on his whiskey. I do the same, feeling the burn of the amber liquid warm my tongue and throat.
We sit in silence for a while. I used to be comfortable with this.
Eager to let the other person speak first like it was a competition to see who could hold out the longest. But today I don’t have the patience, not when I have Olivia waiting for me.
“Listen, August. I’m sorry for the part I played in our rivalry.
Dad set up this competition between us and it was like there was this constant need to earn his affection.
He was only happy when we were clawing at each other’s throats.
Like somehow it would make us tougher. I’m realizing that’s not true.
We could have worked together, been loyal to each other, not to him. ”
“A little late for that, don’t you think?” he snips.
“Perhaps . . . Perhaps not. That’s up to you and me isn’t it?”
He grunts, not agreeing but not refusing—a small victory. Olivia may well have turned me into an optimist.
“Do you even want to run the business?” I ask.
“It’s not about what I want,” he states so matter-of-factly, it’s as if it’s written in stone .
“Why not?”
He stares me down like if he gives me just enough time then the answer will dawn on me. I arch my eyebrow in retaliation, which seems to be enough.
“Who are you, and what have you done with my brother?”
“What do you mean?”
“The jeans, the repentance, the...” He swishes his hand in front of him, swirling it around so his signet ring glimmers. “The hippie nonsense you seem to be sprouting.”
“I don’t think discussing our childhood trauma counts as hippie nonsense, Augustus. But yes, I have relaxed a little in the last year or so. Taking a step away from Dad’s business has cleared some things up for me about how I want to live my life.”
“How new-age of you. I’ll stick to what I know.”
“Of course.” I drain the rest of my whiskey and slap my hands on my jean-covered thighs. “I’ve said what I wanted to. I’ll let you enjoy the rest of your Saturday night.”
“Who is she?” he asks, taking another casual sip.
“What?”
“The woman.” His grin spreads wide enough that his teeth are bare.
“What woman?”
“Don’t play dumb, Austin. Despite Father’s insistence on making you into an enforcer, you do have a brain. So tell me, who is she?”
My heartbeat picks up, which I note is rather telling. I don’t want Augustus to know anything about Olivia. I don’t want him anywhere near her at all. And yet, if I want to rebuild this relationship, I need to learn to trust.
“You don’t know her. But she’s not like us.” Technically, not up until a week ago, anyway.
He nods, and the lines around his eyes lose their sharpness.
“Then you should let her go. This isn’t the life for her, Austin.”
It might be the kindest advice my brother has ever given me.
The only advice, actually. And he’s right.
This isn't the life for Olivia. But I knew long before I met her that it wasn’t the life for me either.
I have to prove that I'm out of it. I have to prove that I'm worthy of her. Because she’s it for me. And as much as I’m trying to be a good person, that doesn’t extend to letting her go.
◆◆◆
I let myself in. And while it usually brings me great joy to see the shock on someone's face, catching my father with his pants down, dick-deep in some poor, unfortunate soul, has me reevaluating my scare tactics.
His forehead has a vein popping out like a hernia. His head is thrown back as he repeatedly thrusts into the poor girl, who’s biting her lip hard enough to bleed. He is slamming into her like a jackhammer.
“Glad to see you can still keep it up at your age, Dad.”
“Austin, I’m busy,” he puffs out, continuing to thrust.
“Off you go, sweetheart. I’ll see you get your tip, pun not intended.” I sigh, closing my eyes, but unfortunately, that image is seared into my retinas.
My father eventually relinquishes his grip on her hips and slaps her ass like he’s trying to get a horse to start moving. The poor woman scurries out the door, clasping her clothes at her chest.
Unfortunately for me, my father is butt naked as he wipes his brow with the back of his arm and heads straight for the liquor cabinet.
How remarkably similar he is to my brother.
Or my brother is to him. Unlike Augustus, he doesn’t hand me a drink, so I take the initiative to pour myself a glass as my father locates his slacks and pulls them up, covering what little modesty he has .
His office is old money. Deep mahogany wood carvings house first editions, and he has a rifle on the wall that apparently belonged to Teddy Roosevelt.
The dark green walls and paneling mirror mine to a point.
But if I do say so myself, mine elevate the room; his dark-on-dark furnishing seems to make his office seem cave-like.
A dragon hoarding precious possessions and discarding anything he deems invaluable.
Like that woman who’s just escaped his greasy clutches.
“Here to finally take a seat at the table? I’ll make sure it’s wiped down before you do.” He smirks, his eyes flitting down to where the young woman was pressed down, ass up over his desk.
“I can assure you, the desk would be burned if ever I was to take the helm, Father. But luckily for you and your desk , I’ve come to officially hand in my resignation.”
I pause to let him digest that first tidbit.
“No.”
Okay, well, let’s ignore that.
“I’ll be stopping all official duties as your enforcer and cease completing any contracts or otherwise henceforth.”
“Hence-fucking-forth? What the fuck have you been reading?” he hisses; a blob of spit hits the desk, inches away from my hand. I have the good sense to pull my drink away from his firing range. I can’t help but think of all the fluids he hasn’t wiped up.
And if he must know, werewolf smut, where the heroine really does save the day and allows the hero to feel safe enough to be vulnerable.
Only with her, though. Only ever with her.
Erotic, exciting, and honestly, quite therapeutic.
Smut really has it all. Speaking of, I need to get the next book in the series from Olivia when I get home.
“Nothing you’d like, Daddy dearest.”
His mustache starts to wiggle on his top lip as he rolls his thin lips together. The bristles rub against the end of his nose. How is he not sneezing all the time?
“The week I gave you before your little vacation to god knows where wasn’t a time for self-reflection. It was a deadline.”
“And here I am, before the weekend is up, letting you know that I’ve made my decision. And my little vacation did me wonders, thanks for asking.”
“Clearly not if you’re throwing everything away.”
“You’re under the impression that this is a negotiation.
It’s not. I’m not interested in being your enforcer, your successor, or anything else you may think to offer me.
This isn’t about money or titles or what you want me to do.
It has to do with what the business does and what you do.
I’m not doing it anymore, Dad. I’m done. ”
“You’re done when I say you’re fucking done.” He spits again.
Say it, don’t spray it, old man.
I sigh, wishing I could rub my eyes a few times.
“I’ve not really worked for you for a long time, Dad. This isn’t going to be any different from the last two years.”
“Austin, your brother is not up to this and you know it.” His voice tinges with desperation.
“I’ve already spoken to Augustus to let him know I’m out.”
“Oh, and how did he take that?”
“He was rather indifferent, actually.” Not quite a lie. “He was busy with work and didn’t have long to chat, so we kept it short.”
“How wonderful to hear you’re getting along.” His tongue clicks.
“Quite remarkable despite all the effort you put in to make us hate one another.”
He nods, smirking. Man, I wish I could bitch-slap that right off him.
“I tell you what, if you don’t come back, neither of you can work for me.”
What?
He laughs manically. “Oh yes, this is perfect. If you’re not there to keep your brother in line, then he’s of no use to me. I’ll rid myself of him, and he’ll only blame you. What a novel idea.”
He tips his drink to his lips, his eyes fixed on mine, goading me to make a scene. He’s always thought me weak, and in a way, he’s right. I worked for him for years, doing unspeakable things, but in the end, my body, my brain, my fucking heart just couldn’t do it anymore.
I remain silent, stewing on my next move. Mine and August’s relationship has taken one tiny step forward today, and in one conversation with our father, I might as well have not bothered. There is no recovery from this. Because Augustus will see this as my fault.
I move to stand. The conversation is over, and he knows he’s won this round.
I reach for the fake diamond door knob and roll my eyes. Fucking pretentious twat.
“Oh, Austin?”
I twist back, and he’s made his way to the side of the desk once again, pulling down his zipper.
“Send the girl back in.”