Chapter 1
Natalie
“Good morning, Mrs. Dansworth,”Sarah’s soft voice says as she sets the silver tray on the small table to my side. “I brought you coffee and orange juice because I wasn’t sure which you preferred today.”
“Thanks,” I mutter, dismissing her with a wave of my hand. My eyes don’t stray from the bright green of the backyard garden.
I’m usually not so short with the staff, but I am exhausted. All night Jeoffry’s alarms rang, alerting the nurse on call of his declining state. I may not have the coziest of feelings for my husband, but something pangs inside me at the thought of becoming a widow. I’m only twenty-five, and it’s not like Jeoffry isthatold. The man is barely pushing sixty. When I decided to basically become the epitome of the stereotypical “gold digger,” as people say, I expected to be set for life and for him to die when I was in my mid to late thirties. We’d have a couple of kids, and it seemed more realistic to never marry again. It would have just been me and my family with the Dansworth legacy.
With Jeoffry’s imminent death, I know my father will expect I remarry within the next few years, even if I inherit theDansworth estate. After all, what is my worth if not to pop out an heir for someone who has more money than they know what to do with? It’s not what I had planned at all. Jeoffry is—was—an attractive man, and being married to him hasn’t been a hardship, but I gave up my life for him. I abandoned any aspirations of finding a career with the degree I had earned, abandoned any type of reputation other than being the wife at his side. It was supposed to be worth it because I’d be set up for life.
I stare down at the plate of food and coffee; the thought of taking a bite of it makes my stomach turn. Bringing my knees up to rest on the edge of the seat, I slump into the chair and overlook the gardens again. The morning is a bit cold, and dew gathers in heavy drops on the balcony’s railing while the sun glistens off the wet grass.
This is how I prefer to take my breakfast, and the days that Jeoffry was in town, he’d join me. But when your company reaches a global level, there’s a lot of traveling to be done. The first year it had been exciting, but then I realized it left very little time for me to actually explore the places we visited. Instead I was cooped up in the hotel or house. The shine quickly wore off, and I opted to stay home, convincing Jeoffry to take a weeklong vacation twice a year where it’s just the two of us.
It’s not like I dreaded spending time with my husband. Most days were pleasant, and he let me do whatever I wanted, buy whatever I wanted. Plus, it wasn’t like the sex was abysmal. He was half-decent, and I got to come the majority of the time. At the end of the day, I have enjoyed my cushy life, but the possibility of it all changing is as upsetting as his declining health.
When the doorbell rings, I frown. Who the hell would visit this early? Jeoffry’s lawyer handles the company’s board with minimal explanation of what’s happening, so it can’t be a business associate. Outside of my father, no one in our social circle is aware of what’s happening either. A yell breaks out and the crash of something hitting the ground has me jumping up.
Tugging my silk robe tighter across me, I hurry out of the room toward the shouting in the foyer. My fingers grip the stair railing as I make my way down and see a tall angry man towering over Sarah. The light of the morning encases him in a glow that only enhances his beauty. I’ve only met Jeoffry’s son once, and it was the day before our wedding when he disowned him. His son hadn’t been pleased to find out his father was marrying someone younger than him, and with, by all accounts, a lousy prenup. It left me everything unless otherwise specified by Jeoffry. That was three years ago, and Henry has never called, visited, or made any hints he was looking to reconcile with his father.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, proud of how strong my voice is.
He turns to me, bright blue eyes burning with fury. His black t-shirt is fitted to his muscular body, and his jeans are torn in a few spots that I can’t be sure are a design choice or not, but they look good on him. Just like his dark, windswept hair all tousled above his glare. His biceps flex as I pause on the last step with a raised eyebrow. “Well?”
He sneers, stepping toward me. His thick black boots thud against the marble floor. “This is my father’s house. I can come as I please.”
I cross my arms, a small thrill running through me when his eyes flicker to my breasts before returning to my face. “You were disowned. You are no longer welcome.”
Henry moves until he is within a hair’s breadth of brushing against my arms. The stair puts us near eye level, when I would probably come up to his chest. Tendrils of motor oil and leather circle around me, and I’m ashamed of how much I enjoy his scent.
“My father lies on his deathbed, and you are denying me the opportunity to see him? You fucking gold-digging cunt.”
I clench my jaw tightly and stare up at him. “All you have to do is ask nicely. Not charge in here like a bull.”
Henry’s eye twitches, and it makes me smile. He really hates being told what to do.
My tongue sweeps along the bottom of my teeth. “Ask nicely, Henry.”
“That’s not my name,” he growls out.
I scoff. “As if I’d ever call you that ridiculous nickname.” I can’t even recall the name of those leather vest things they wear. I just know that the men he hangs around all call themselves silly little names and sew them on their chests like an introductory name tag. These are the reports his father has received over the years by the security team that checks in from time to time.
Henry grits his teeth. “It’s not a nickname, it’s a road name. And it’s an honor to have one.”
I move backwards and up a step, just to get some space from him, but he takes it as an invitation to follow me.
“May I see my father…please?” It’s like a curse he’s choking on.
It takes immense effort not to smile at him. It sounded nearly painful for him to get those words out. I nod, and wave up the stairs.
“He’s in his wing, just not his main bedroom. We had to make room for the medical equipment.”
Henry waits for me to lead him into the room after the staff leaves, not bothering to knock as he continues through the doorway past me. “What happened?” he asks, this time without as much aggression as earlier.
I have to stop the urge to roll my eyes again and walk over to the small table across from his bed that’s reserved for all the doctor’s information and grab the clipboard. “Excuse my pronunciation, but they determined it’s primary amoebic meningoencephalitis. A parasite is eating his brain tissue, basically.”
Goosebumps erupt on my skin. Every time I’m reminded of it, I realize how close to death I’d been, too. We’d been swimming in the same water, but only Jeoffry contracted the bacteria.
