Chapter 8
ZACH
“How’re you feeling, Dad?”I ask, stepping into his office one evening after work.
“Great.”
He doesn’t look great.He looks stern.He’s not exactly cuddly and approachable.My father is a hard man.He’s had to be.It comes with the territory, who he is and what he’s built.
He’s the exact opposite of Cecil.The guy didn’t create Stella, he was meant to come in and turn things around, but I don’t think he’s doing a great job.I have a feeling he doesn’t, either.
I sit down in the chair opposite my father.He looks a little worn out and has aged slightly in recent months.He’s not quite the invincible master of the universe that I’m used to seeing.He thinks he’s invincible, even though he’s getting older, and is now ill.He also has the worries of the company on his shoulders, but my brothers seem to think he’s a miserable old man and a bastard.
He’s done a lot of wrong, I don’t deny it, but he’s also suffered greatly.The man is hurting.He wronged my mom, and the Italian Knights, as well as their mom, and while Jett and Dex can’t forgive him, I’m not one to hold a grudge, even if what he did ruined all of our lives to some extent.
I sometimes stop and think how different my life would be if Mom were still here.My memory of her has faded away like an old photograph.I try desperately to hold on to it, try to remember wisps of her words, her touch, and the kisses she’d give me at night when she tucked me in—but it’s all becoming increasingly blurry, all soft edges and no detail.
Seeing Maya has brought everything into sharp focus again; the house where we lived, and how things used to be when Mom was alive.Maya wasn’t around then, and she never met my Mom.
Maya and her mom arrived at the Knight Estate many years later, but her being there just brightened everything for me.She added color and clarity to what had been, until then, a dark and dreary existence.I’d retreated into myself, but on meeting her, I slowly started to feel whole again.
Seeing her again makes me happy, and more curious than ever.But I feel like something’s happened, something she’s not telling me about.Something I hope to get to the bottom of.
My father coughs and clasps his hands together before leaning back in his chair.
“Are you sure you need to be here, Dad?”He doesn’t even need to work, he could let us all handle the business, but he’d never do that.He loves having control.
“I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.You don’t need to worry about me.”
I force a laugh.“Someone’s got to.”
A silence falls between us.He knows all too well that none of the others really gives a toss about him.Though we did all turn up at the hospital the night he collapsed, the night found out the prognosis.
My brothers have taken it to host dinners without him.I don’t like that.It’s bad enough that they exclude him but they don’t even visit to see how he’s doing.
He starts to shuffle some papers around on his desk.I know that cue.He’s wondering why I’m here.He doesn’t do social visits, and me popping into his office to see how he’d doing falls into that category.With my father it’s always about the business.So I start to tell him about the VIP event at Stella last week.
“I don’t think they’re doing too well,” I say, with some gravity.
He inhales a measured sigh.“Fashion is fickle.You’re only as good as the last season people remember—and most of them don’t remember for long.”
I clear my throat, feeling a little anxious.“I’m considering offering my expertise.”
He tilts his head, processing my words.Then, “Don’t offer expertise without securing something in return.Never forget that influence comes from ownership, not goodwill.”
I’ve been thinking of the best way to approach this, without letting my heart or my emotions cloud my thinking.
Problem is, Maya clouds my thinking.
It’s there, on the tip of my tongue, the news I want to share with him.I want to tell him that I saw the housekeeper’s daughter, because I’m curious to know what he’ll make of it.I open my mouth, but his phone rings, and he takes the call, nodding at me to wait.
I pull out my cell phone and check for messages.
Nothing.
I’m always hopeful that Maya might text, but she never does.
I grin, anticipating our dinner date tomorrow evening.I’m determined to find out what’s going on.Why she’s so aloof and icy.I expect that she’ll keep up the icy exterior but it’s not too difficult to remember the girl underneath.The one I noticed back then, without meaning to.The one I kept finding excuses to look for.She always seemed serene and self-contained, sitting quietly with a book she’d borrowed from the library—only after I told her she could go in there and take whatever she wanted.
