Bella’s head came up. “Are you serious?”
“Do I look like I’m joking?”
She laughed, running across the room to throw her arms around his neck. Her body was soft against his, her curves fitting into all the right places, and her floral scent made his head swim. He tentatively wrapped her in his arms, afraid she’d realize whom she hugged and jump away.
“Thank you,” she said, her voice strong and her sincerity clear. She pulled slowly out of his arms, as if reluctant to leave.
Adam’s fingertips graced her sides and her silky blouse slid out of his grasp. He looked into her eyes, searching for regret, and found none. What he did find was gratitude and something more, something that took his breath away and threatened to change his heart.
“You’re quite welcome.” He managed to get it out without stammering. “My climbing instructor is waiting.” He hurried out the door without saying goodbye. They didn’t say that word often, because they’d see one another again soon—it was the nature of the project and sharing a house.
As he rounded the corner, he heard a happy squeal behind him. His heart soared. He’d done it. He’d given Bella a gift, one that made her happy. The sense of accomplishment swelling in his chest was more real than the sense of triumph he’d had when he’d won his first case. The excitement carried him faster through the house. He would climb that cliff today.
“Adam!” Uncle Philip’s voice coming from the drawing room drew him up like a jockey pulling on the reins. Uncle Philip didn’t stop by with good news. His appearance brought a scowl to Adam’s brow. He should have picked a different day to spoil.
With regretful steps, Adam backtracked to the entrance of the drawing room. The room itself was decorated in light tones, white, creams, and dark wood. The modern furniture was stuffed for comfort, and the fireplace was intricate. Banking the fireplace were two large bookshelves full of conversation pieces his parents had picked up on their travels before he was born. Fresh flowers graced the tabletop in a clear vase. Their scent battled with the smell of the new, gold-threaded rug. His housekeeper must have thought the old red one needed replacing or was out of date.
Standing stiffly next to the couch was Uncle Philip, wearing that same ugly brown suit, and Gemma Stonewall, his PR director. She’d helped him improve the Beast’s image as he worked to pass the rezoning for Phase I, and she wasn’t supposed to be here. “I thought I gave you a leave of absence.” He didn’t want to work on his image, didn’t want to sit for pictures, and didn’t want to appear at galas or fundraisers or museums.
Gemma lifted her chin. She was a small woman—did time on the gymnastics circuit, if he remembered right. Those gymnasts were tough as nails. Which was one reason he’d picked her over the other, more experienced candidates. People had to have thick skin to work with him. He knew it and made sure not to hire anyone who couldn’t hack an honest evaluation.
“Technically, you’re still paying me, so I’m still working.” Her eyes dropped to his scars and then back up to his eyes.
Adam sniffed. He didn’t like the way his face was an object of interest. But then, after his experience with Pike, trading battle wounds, he knew he’d need to get used to it all. Today was as good as any to start building a wall. “Why are you here?”
Gemma nodded for Uncle Philip to speak.
“Five more occupants have moved out. We’re down to a skeleton at The Rose. I’m afraid people are talking.”
Adam waved a hand. “Let them talk.”
Gemma tucked her hair behind her ear. “It’s not that simple, and you know it. Your reputation as a fair landlord is suffering, and with the timing of Phase II, you can’t afford to let it slip.”
“I can’t afford …?” He glared at the odd pair, upset that they thought this was such a big deal and felt the need to gang up on him. “The Rose could crumble into a pile of dust and it wouldn’t affect my bottom line. That old rat trap is only around because my father was a sentimental fool.”
Uncle Philip snorted. “You and I both know your father was anything but sentimental.” He lifted a leather-bound folder. “If you’d take five minutes and look this over, you’ll see—”
Why was it always about paperwork with this man? Couldn’t he give Adam one day to feel happy? A day that he didn’t have to look into the past, relive the coldness of his father, and just enjoy the fact that he was still alive? He’d faced death, possible blindness, and disfigurement. That was enough for one lifetime, let alone all the memories Philip wanted to drag to the surface. “I don’t have five minutes. I’m late already.”
He left without saying goodbye to them either. Not because he hoped he’d see them again soon, like Bella, but because sometimes not saying something was more powerful.
His steps slowed as he neared the garage and a memory began to surface. Adam had ridden his mountain bike into the woods behind the castle. He’d been reckless and crashed hard, fracturing his left arm in two places. The walk home was brutal, but he’d made it. When he went to his father for help, he was told that if he was dumb enough to take risks with his body, then he’d better learn quickly how to fix them. Mrs. Poole had driven him to the doctor and held his right hand while they applied the cast to his left.
“He’s unreasonable,” young Adam ground out through hot tears. He swiped them away with his shoulder, not willing to let go of Mrs. Poole’s hand. His life was a true mess if the one person who cared about him was the hired help.
“He’s an important man and he knows it,” replied Mrs. Poole.
“He wouldn’t even listen to me.”
“Well, why would he need to listen to anyone else when he’s the center of the universe?” Mrs. Poole smiled wickedly, making Adam laugh.
The sound of his young laughter faded from his ears. Shame filled Adam from the soles of his feet all the way up to the tips of his hair. He hadn’t behaved any better than his father today—or many days, for that matter.
Spinning around, he hurried back to the drawing room. The least he could do was listen to Philip’s concerns about the will. The most he could do was apologize and ask for forgiveness for his rudeness. He swallowed.One step at a time.
“Uncle Philip, I—” Adam came up short. The room was empty. He stepped back to check the hallway and listen for footsteps, but there were none. He scratched his chin. Their shoe impressions were in the carpet, so he knew they had been there.
With a shake of his head, he made his way to the garage. Other memories grabbed at him as he moved through the house he’d grown up in. He brushed them away like spider webs that clung to his shoulders. Life was about moving forward, not looking back. Reading his father’s will would have opened a door he’d rather stayed shut. Perhaps it was for the best that Philip had gone.
