I think my ex-boyfriend’s father is going to have me murdered—that’s what happened.
Chapter Four
Elliot
By how frazzled Miss Sinclair was on the phone, I hadn’t expected her to show up on time. It would be just my son’s taste to date a girl who is an embarrassment to the Caldwell name. She’s a massage therapist for fuck’s sake; do you even need a degree for that? The hunk of junk passing as a motor vehicle that pulls into my driveway ten minutes before the scheduled start of her shift only solidifies my thoughts. I swear he does things to irritate me on purpose, to get back at me for something I’m not aware of.
Over the last few years, he’d mentioned the girl he was dating in passing, but I never got much information. It’s not that we spoke frequently, maybe once every few months. He likely avoided bringing her up on purpose, knowing I’d have a lot to say if he’d told me more. A car older than she is. A job a homeless person off the street could get. I bet her appearance is to match. I’m not sure what I ever did to Harrison to make him want to punish me, but he’s getting good at it. Because now here I amdoing damage control over him not being able to keep his dick in his pants. I did not raise this boy to be like this. I taught him self-control and self-preservation!
The number of times I told him to keep his shit under control was all for nothing. If you’re going to fuck your stepsister, your main priority should be keeping ithidden. Harrison is too cocky to concern himself with such things. Hence, where we are now. Again, I only have myself to blame because he knows he can call me, and I’ll fix it. But I don’t do this for him; I do it for me. My name is on the line. My entirecompanyis on the line. The last thing I need is some insane PR story getting out about the Caldwell family being into shady things, especially right after getting this deal with the city! This would be a fair reason for them to break the contract, essentially ruining my reputation. All thanks to my son.
So, I called off work to handle this girl he dated for over two years. A girl that I need to speak with to figure out the best way to handle this situation. I’m not in the business of making people go missing, but if everything I’ve built is on the line, I won’t think twice. Even if she is a twenty-one-year-old woman who doesn’t even know the meaning of life yet. If it comes to such extremes, I’ll handle it and make sure Harrison is well aware of what he’s done. I’ve built my company from nothing, and I will not let a single person tarnish it.
I tap my foot, waiting for her to exit her car. What could she possibly be doing in that car? Noxious gas poisoning perhaps? Did she pass out? Perhaps the door won’t open. Looks like itcould be rusted shut. Only it does open a moment later, and when the woman steps out, it’s like a punch right to my gut.
Knee high boots cover the bottom half of her perfectly thick legs. The fall-colored jumper stops mid-thigh, and the black long-sleeved shirt is tight, showcasing her ample cleavage. Her dark hair is up in a stylish, messy up-do, with wavy pieces hanging around her round face. Her full lips form a frown when she looks up at the house. She shields her eyes with her hand, squinting. I can tell they’re a light shade, but can’t see exactly what color they are, but I bet they’re gorgeous. Just like every other inch of her.
No, no, no.
This girl is almost thirty years younger than me. She’s my son’s ex. She has information that could ruin me. The last thing I need to do is hit on her. But for fuck’s sake, could she be any more breathtaking?
I go to the front door to let her in, ignoring the way my dick is throbbing in my slacks. She’s just reached the bottom steps when I pull the door open. She beams up at me like I’m someone she’s happy to see and it nearly knocks me over. Fuck, she’sbeautiful.
“Hi, Mr. Caldwell?” she says, coming up the rest of the way and offering me her hand.
I do what I’m supposed to: take it and shake. But it’s the weakest handshake I’ve ever given in my life. What I really want to do is bring her hand to my cock and watch as she jerks me offwith her delicate little fingers. Fuck, this isn’t good. This is so, so bad.
“Miss Sinclair,” I say, clearing the raspiness from my throat.
“Just call me Sera,” she says, still smiling.
“Come in. Please.” I move to the side, gesturing for her to come inside. She does, and her gaze immediately goes around the room, and up to the chandelier in the foyer. It’s a custom-made piece. A massive, twisted sculpture of dark iron, almost like branches weaving together, each arm holding a cluster of hand-blown glass globes that look like drops of water frozen mid-fall. When lit, the light filters through the frosted glass, casting soft shadows. It's bold, a little rugged, yet elegant—just like everything in this house. It’s a good reflection of my life—of me, I suppose. At least, that’s what the decorator said.
“Wow, you live here?”
Okay, beautiful, but not so smart. Figures.
“Yes, I live here.”
Her cheeks pinken and she ducks her head. She’s a ball of innocence. All she’s missing is a pretty little bow atop that gorgeous head of hers.
“Yeah, I suppose that was a stupid question.”
“Contrary to popular belief, therearestupid questions,” I say, holding my hand out for her purse. She hands it over and I hang it on the coat rack by the door, then move into the parlor. “Can I get you something to drink?” I ask.
She smiles at me. “You don’t have a maid to do that for you?”
I raise a brow, and she frowns again.
“Sorry, that was rude.” She blows out a sharp breath.
The girl has no manners. She’s a feral goddamn animal. Yet somehow, so fucking sweet.
“Water would be great,” she finally says, clasping her hands together in front of her and rocking back on heels.
I nod, leaving the room to get her water. I’m unsure if she wants it cold or room temperature, so I grab one of each. When I return to the parlor, she’s still standing in the same spot, looking around as if she’s never seen a house before.
“Nothing here will bite.”
