Thornwood Estate is fully operational during the winter season. Christmas is only a few weeks away, and Ian has decorated the mansion accordingly, with traditional-style wreaths and garlands. A giant fir tree stands in the middle of the lobby, with its classic red, gold, and green decorations, including antique baubles, Murano glass ornaments, gilded ribbons, and warm twinkling lights.
I find Sheila in the ballroom, which now feels like a cancerous growth on our beloved winter abode. Following her specific color scheme, the walls were recently painted white. I hate it. Everything Sheila touches turns ugly in my eyes.
“Cole, what brings you here?” she asks as soon as she sees me.
Her slim figure is wrapped in a burgundy velvet robe, cinched around her waist with a gold-brushed belt. Her red hair is pulled into a loose bun at the nape of her neck, and loose curls frame her bony cheeks. I can see why my fatherfound her appealing. Once, I also saw her appeal, but now I only see the rotten character that lurks beneath the surface.
“Your behavior, in particular,” I say, stopping in the middle of the ballroom.
Above us hangs one of three gigantic Art Noveau-style chandeliers with swirling brass arms and smoked glass bulbs that my great-great-grandmother commissioned when the estate was built and loved so much. I take a second to admire it, and Sheila follows my gaze.
“Oh, those are coming down for the wedding,” she says casually, heels clicking as she walks toward me.
“No fucking way,” I bluntly reply.
“It’s already been approved. Your father signed off on it.” She savors this little victory.
I give her a hard look. “Where is he?”
“Upstairs. He’ll join us for breakfast,” she says. “He’s looking better after the recovery center. Those doctors worked a miracle, didn’t they?”
“Sheila, what you’re doing is fifty shades of dirty,” I reply. “Out of all the wedding planners in the city, you pick Willow’s. You’re sick.”
Sheila seems unfazed. “Willow could’ve turned me down.”
“She couldn’t, because you caused her to lose her other clients,” I shoot back. “Willow may not have her ears attuned to the Hamptons gossip, but I hear things. And most importantly, I know how your filthy mind works.”
“Cole, darling?—”
I cut her off. “Don’t call me that,” I say. “Consider this a warning.”
Sheila raises an eyebrow, defiant, as she lets her red lips curl into a smile. “A warning?”
“Yes, a warning. Stay the fuck away from Willow. Keep it strictly professional, and do not make her job harder than it needs to be. She’ll deliver your dream wedding, and then you’ll give her a rave review.”
“Or else what?” Terrence asks as he enters the ballroom.
I don’t know when he’d gotten so cocky, but I have plenty of methods to beat the sense back into him, each more painful than the next.
“Or else I’ll make you both regret ever looking at Willow,” I calmly reply. “She’s being courteous, patient, and professional. Her track record is impeccable. And I will do whatever it takes to make sure her business thrives, no matter what the two of you throw at her.”
Terrence chuckles dryly as he reaches his mother’s side. “Cole’s in love, Ma.”
“You dodged a bullet with that one,” Sheila sneers, then looks at me. “Have the three of you taken a run at her yet? Or are you still taking turns?”
“Sheila, you may be married to my father, but that doesn’t make you immune to retaliation from me or my brothers if you continue being so nasty.”
“She’s not lying,” Terrence chimes in, smiling broadly. “I mean, a woman who’s willing to take three dicks is not a womanworthy of me.”
I take a quick step toward him, making the fucker flinch. “I can beat you to a pulp before anybody stops me, asshole. Do you really want to keep testing me? I thought we sorted that out back when you were still in prep school.”
“It’s not my fault that the truth hurts,” he says.
“No, what bothers me is your audacity,” I reply, then look at Sheila. “Put a muzzle on him, if you want your precious son to make it to his wedding in one piece.”
“I’ll tell your father about these threats,” she hisses. “You’re out of control, Cole.”
“I’m just being honest,” I reply. “Isn’t that what you like? Brutal honesty? Well, here’s some brutal honesty for you, Sheila. I know what you’re doing here, and it’s not going to fly with me or my brothers.”
