Chapter 4
Four
3 years ago
“Wassomething the matter with the appetizer selection?” The woman on the iPad screen phrased the question, which was oddly fascinating.
Eyes bluer than the sky. Hair golden like sunshine. She was bright enough to be confused with the sun itself.
The sound of her heels clicking against the cobblestones announced her approach in an enchanting yet foreboding way. Nonetheless, I didn’t look up to see her in real life. Who would be foolish enough to stare directly at the sun? That was a recipe for blindness.
The tablet held my attention captive, hypnotized by the blue and gold combination. The waft scent of apples and vanilla coasted over as she neared. I still couldn’t look up or tear myself away from the screen.
A white gown caught my peripheral vision. The trademark color for purity gave away the woman’s identity. Only my control freak father would pick a white dress for an engagement party, demanding his blushing bride be a breathtaking vision to impress his sleazy business associates.
This was Jordan, my soon-to-be stepmother—the woman I despised.
My father had always pushed his business on me, but I refused to tangle my future with his agenda. Throughout our lives, this man had reprimanded Jasper and me for the most minor missteps. We were constantly admonished for speaking out of turn, not doing enough with our lives, and once for breathing too loudly at dinner. Even if we did everything he asked, Henry would find a flaw and hand out arbitrary punishments.
I only maintained a civil relationship by exercising a facade of composure. Any crack in this facade would invite his relentless taunts and manipulations. Henry reveled in provoking those around him, pushing them to their breaking points for his sadistic amusement.
While I could withstand Henry’s assaults with unwavering poise, Dad’s callous games continuously got the better of Jasper. He once left Jasper destitute by canceling his cell phone and credit card, then withholding his boarding school tuition, meal dues, and dorm fees. Did I mention Jasper was only thirteen?
Henry was a tyrant. His tendency to criticize our every move had driven Mom to the brink, and I vowed early on that I’d break us free from his grasp.
Through ruthless devotion to hockey, I found a ticket out. The NHL offered me a contract right out of high school, but Dad twisted my arm into turning down the offer. Jasper was a minor, and Mom financially depended on Henry, rendering me powerless to defy him.
The fallout from my decision sparked massive controversy. An eighteen-year-old receiving a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity was uncommon, but turning it down was astonishing. My face was plastered in sports magazines with various renditions of the truth. There were speculations of drug use, fame going to my head, arrogance, blah, blah, blah.
Unwilling to allow the rumors to damage the family name, Dad hired a publicist to fix my reputation—Jordan. She spun a story, painting me as the victim of fake injuries and mental health struggles.
An outpour of sympathy poured in for the fabricated issues, soaring me into celebrity status and generating buzz in my budding career. Suddenly, every ticket at my college hockey game was sold out, and people saw me as a hero overcoming obstacles.
Lies and bullshit.
I had hoped to be redrafted after Jasper graduated high school. Any professional team that recruited me would investigate the concocted injuries and mental health problems, and I couldn’t come clean without spurring Dad’s wrath. As if there weren’t enough reasons to hate my father’s newest gold digger, Jordan had turned my life into a lie.
At first, I didn’t even take their relationship seriously. My father was notorious for being a sugar daddy to younger women. Then, he broke the news of his engagement through a considerate email crafted by his assistant. Meeting her at last, his haste to lock her down made sense.
I watched Jordan draw closer, the crystal beads of her ethereal gown catching rays of the shimmering dusk. Scattered light reflected off the dress’s embellishments and fused with her golden hair, shining bright enough to make me wonder whether I had mistaken the sun for a human.
This app was a novelty item that granted people a superficial sense of self. A beauty-measuring algorithm was absurd, seeing as people weren’t attracted to the same features. Yet, Ifound myself agreeing with the results, beyond captivated by the image on the screen. I didn’t know how I managed it, but I finally lowered the device and, like a stupid man, stared directly into the sun.
The drink in my hand shook of its own volition as she stopped before me. Her lips moved, and from what I could gather, Jordan was introducing herself with a rehearsed spiel. None of it registered. I was too consumed by the details I had missed on the screen.
The silk material of her ivory dress cascaded down in flowing layers, showing off her curvy, model-like body. Impeccably shaped brows framed her almond eyes, and a symmetrical button nose with arched cheekbones complemented her features. Her lips had a defined Cupid’s bow, the bottom lip slightly poutier than the top. Even her nails were flawlessly shaped and painted.
Everything about her was groomed. Despite the polished appearance, there was a subtle scar above her lip. My gaze unwillingly loitered on the barely visible scar, appreciating the hint of imperfection only detectable in person.
Jordan spoke before I could dwell further on her enigma. “The staff told me you hadn’t eaten anything yet,” she remarked, genuine concern laced in her soft voice. She hovered next to my barstool, her nervous energy almost tangible.“I wanted to make sure everything was okay.”
I tore my gaze away from her mouth and focused on the Manhattan cradled in my hand. “I didn’t realize you were keeping tabs on my diet,” I replied dryly, masking the intrigue within me.
A laugh escaped her lips, a delicate sound that had likely been refined throughout the years. “It’s hard not to notice someone attached to the bar, declining all the hors d’oeuvres,” she teased gently.
Frowning, I acknowledged internally that perhaps it had been a poor idea to stay glued to the bar on an empty stomach.
Jordan motioned for a server carrying a black tray. “We’ll take that,” she declared with a warmth that hinted at an unexpected depth beneath her poised exterior.
The waiter surrendered the tray without a fight. Who would deny the bride-to-be?
“Here we are.” Jordan set the tray of mini beef Wellingtons on the bar counter and settled onto the stool beside mine. “I heard these were your favorite.”
“You researched my favorite food and added it to the catering order?” I asked. My father didn’t know my likes and dislikes, and unearthing this information couldn’t have been easy.
“Jasper’s, too,” she replied softly.
Caught off guard by her thoughtful gesture, I took another sip of my drink. I’d been adamant this woman was the devil, and now, I didn’t know what to make of her.I admitted grudgingly that though everything about her was deliberately measured, she didn’t appear to be a calculative or manipulative person. I couldn’t help but wonder if there was more to her than what met the eye.
Her face lit up when I set down the Manhattan and picked up a beef Wellington. Despite my initial resolve to freeze her out, grabbing this olive branch might be for the best.
Jasper was scheduled to return home from boarding school the following month but dreaded spending the summer with Henry. As a college freshman, I had an apartment in the city and proposed that he stay with me.
Of course, Dad nixed the plan. He got off on controlling our lives, and there was nothing I could do to stop him. Not if I wanted him to continue supporting my mother with luxuries such as food, healthcare, and shelter.
Jordan was expected to move into our childhood home after the wedding. Initially, my feelings toward the arrangement were no warmer than their wedding. The mere idea of Jordan having a hand in raising Jasper made my skin crawl. However, it seemed she might be the one person to care about Jasper’s preferences and even look out for him.
As I finished my mini Wellington and turned to signal the bartender for water, my gaze landed on a sign I had previously missed.
Tonight’s signature drink is Manhattan
I had been ordering Manhattans all evening but didn’t realize it was the official drink of the event. While Jasper and I drank openly, Dad didn’t pay enough attention to our drink preferences.
It could only mean one thing—Jordan had a hand in this decision, just as she did with the food menu.
A sudden warmth washed over me at the all-consuming woman beside me, eyes darting pointedly between her and the cocktail list. “Was this your doing?” I tapped on the drink sign.
Jordan flashed me a sheepish smile. “Me again. Although I now realize this might be coming across a bit stalkerish.” An air of anxiety lingered in her expression, undoubtedly mindful of the strained dynamic we shared with Dad. He would’ve never made my preferred drink the signature cocktail of the night.
Suddenly, I itched to diffuse the awkwardness between us. The last thing I wanted to discuss was my father, and my knowledge of Jordan was limited to her work.
“How long have you been working at the PR firm?” I asked.
Her response faltered slightly. “Oh…er…I have owned the firm for the last twelve years.”
I was taken aback by the revelation. She owned the firm?
I asked a few follow-up questions about her work. Her smile dimmed at the corners of her mouth as if she were shy about being the big boss, but she answered with swift efficiency and displayed the knowledge of a seasoned professional.
Jordan’s mastery of the business intricacies surprised me. I had prematurely dismissed her as another of my father’s bimbos with a hobby career and superficial interests. On the contrary, Jordan was self-sufficient and driven, steadfast in her refusal to live under someone else’s thumb.
Just like me.
The notion of sharing common ground with her had never crossed my mind. Uncomfortable with how quickly Jordan had altered my perception of her, I sought a distraction from her unwavering presence. To have something—anything—to focus on besides her beaming smile.
Clearing my throat, I gestured to the decorated terrace—done in celebration of her engagement. “Are you happy with how everything turned out?”
Jordan huffed. “Honestly, this party is only fun for the guests. Henry expects me to host, so I can’t drink too much. I can barely move in this dress, let alone dance. I can’t even enjoy the food. This dress is tailored so tightly, I’ll pop like a balloon if I eat anything.”
My lips twitched at her candidness.
Jordan’s gaze tracked the area before settling on my father—King Maxwell was holding court for his royal subjects, shamelessly conducting business with blatant disregard for his new fiancée.
She turned to me with a forced smile. “I didn’t think I’d be so bored at my engagement party,” she admitted. The sadness in her eyes was more potent than the obligatory smile on her face.
Most of my father’s women knew they ranked low on his list of priorities—especially when millions of dollars were at stake—and were content playing second fiddle in exchange for a luxurious lifestyle. Something told me Jordan wasn’t privy to Henry Maxwell’s true nature.
Perhaps a distraction was in order.
“At least you’re having a better time than them.” I subtly gestured to the couple across from us. An attractive young couple—a man in a three-piece black suit and a woman in a long blue dress—radiated tension. The woman appeared furious with her husband-boyfriend-date and did not attempt to hide her contempt. She snatched her hand back when he tried to hold it. He seemed repentant for some undisclosed transgression and hung his head as the woman stormed off.
Jordan observed their interaction while my gaze lingered on her silky, golden strands that had fallen over one lithe shoulder.
Clearing my throat, I asked, “Do you know them?”
She studied the couple before shaking her head. “Must be your father’s friends or business associates.” She tsked sympathetically. “Poor guy.”
I chuckled. “Someone’s sleeping on the couch tonight.”
Jordan grimaced humorously. “What do you think he did to incur such wrath?”
I lifted a shoulder. “Maybe he cheated on her or some other form of infidelity. Emotional cheating? What else would elicit such anger?”
“Hmm.” Jordan tapped her bottom lip with her index finger. My eyes inadvertently landed on her mouth, coated in nude pink gloss to highlight her generous lips, then at her scar. “I don’t think he cheated on her,” she mused aloud. “She wouldn’t have come to this party and endured a celebration of love after that kind of betrayal. Why rub your own face in it?”
I nodded my head thoughtfully. “Good point. What do you think it is?”
“He forgot an important date,” she surmised. “Like her birthday or their anniversary.”
“You think so?”
“It’s justifiable enough to attend an engagement party but not enough to let him hold her hand.”
“You’ve given this some thought.”
Jordan sported an all-knowing grin. We had no idea what the couple was fighting about, but concocting a fictional reality for others seemed like the best escape from her bleak night.
“What about them?” I nodded toward another mismatched couple. Conservatively, he was in his fifties, and she was in her early twenties. They were all over each other, sloppily making out next to the bar with his hand groping her ass.
“He is a movie producer, and she is an aspiring actress trying to catch her next big break. She believes sleeping with him will open doors for her, but little does she know that he has slept with half the people here, and it hasn’t gotten them anywhere.”
“You’re surprisingly good at this game,” I remarked, voice thick with humor.
Jordan nodded thoughtfully. “I am. She also happens to be a client of mine and told me she plans on sleeping with a producer for her next big break.”
I stared at her blankly with my jaw on the floor, then erupted into uninhibited laughter.
Of all the things I expected, Jordan Banks being a down-to-earth, funny woman wasn’t one of them. It didn’t make sense. Why would a woman like her marry my father? She didn’t need his money or a luxurious lifestyle; she could provide both for herself.
I wondered why I cared about the reasons, except the idea of true love between them left a bitter taste in my mouth. I preferred to imagine her as a gold digger marrying him solely for his wealth.
Without delving too deep into the unexpected thoughts, I pointed to another duo across the terrace. A hint of Jordan’s scent invaded my senses as she leaned in to whisper an elaborate story about their fabricated life. I held my breath to escape the smell, but it was futile.
Fuck.
I turned away from her and flagged down the bartender. “Would you like a drink?” I asked Jordan.
“Maybe just a glass of champagne. Your father has important business associates here, and I don’t want to get sloppy in front of them,” Jordan replied with a smile.
Of course not. Dad would never accept it if his bride were publicly intoxicated in front of his esteemed colleagues. That was all he cared about.
My father could be very charming for short spans of time. She believed his main folly was mixing business with pleasure and ignoring his bride-to-be during social outings. Little did she know that Henry Maxwell was far from the gentleman he portrayed himself as.
An odd constriction gripped my chest at the thought of Henry baiting and duping her.
While we waited for the bartender to serve our drinks, Jordan squirmed in her seat and then suddenly exclaimed, “I-I know you and Jasper aren’t happy about this marriage, but I hope you give me a chance and get to know me. I know you guys already have a mom, and I promise, I’m not trying to replace her,” she rambled. “I just want to be your friend.”
I blinked at the unexpected outburst. This woman wore her heart on her sleeve. She had no idea what she signed up for with Henry and was undeniably out of her depth. He devoured vulnerable people like her.
My father liked pretty things hanging off his arms. Usually, he dated women half his age but never got serious with them. I was surprised to learn Jordan was in her mid-thirties and even more astounded that Dad had proposed to her. It all made sense after meeting her.
Jordan came from old money and could converse with the well-bred people in our social circle. She was precisely the kind of woman Henry Maxwell wanted to show off, especially since his associates preferred conducting business in social settings with beautiful women to leer at.
The thought had me spiraling. Henry planned to use her like an object, a mere prop in his business.
Telling her this would only dampen her spirits, so I simply relented. “We can be friends.”
I had set out to freeze out my father’s new fiancée, yet there I sat, trying to put her at ease with a silly game, and then just like that, I was her friend. This woman possessed bewitching powers.
Jordan smiled, lighting up the world. The sun might be setting, but the glow of her warm skin and golden hair made it bright as day. “Okay, friend,” she said playfully. “Tell me about yourself.”
“What do you want to know?”
“Everything.”
Before I could think better of it, I downed my drink and did as she asked. I told her everything.
My childhood was normal—Mom was warm, Jasper was a good baby, and Dad worked too much. I deliberately omitted that his absence was a blessing; otherwise, he would’ve made me as miserable as Jasper. By the time Dad scaled back at work, I had already started attending boarding school. This house had never felt like home between my years at boarding school, summers at camp, and my parents’ separation.
I glossed over the reasons behind their divorce on the off chance Jordan was in the dark about Henry’s womanizing. It began shortly after Mom’s car accident, which left her with brain damage. She was no longer a suitable partner, and his philandering became public knowledge.
To add insult to injury, Henry’s lawyers proved Mom an unfit mother due to her medical condition, and he won custody of us. He agreed to provide Mom with a monthly stipend as long as Jasper and I fell in line. We complied because they had an iron-clad prenuptial agreement. He would have gladly left her homeless as her health prevented her from working.
Asshole.
Suddenly, I felt a newfound desire to protect Jordan from this man’s wrath. But I knew my father; he likely cautioned her about the possibility of his sons bad-mouthing him.
The only way Jordan could’ve known I wasn’t happy about this union was if Henry told her. From the look on her face, it also appeared Dad had worked his charm, and she couldn’t be dissuaded from this marriage. If I aired out our dirty laundry now, I would only prove him right—I was a disgruntled son attempting to steer her away from my father out of loyalty to my mother.
So, instead, I spoke of hockey and college.
As the hours passed, I realized Jordan had spent most of the party by my side. She catered to me with a genuine interest in my likes and dislikes because she wanted to know me.
Jordan’s concentrated attention amplified the foreign emotions stirring inside me since she popped up on the iPad screen. By the time the evening concluded, I was left in a pensive mood, grappling with one persistent question.
Did Jordan truly love my father?