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“You do realize, all I have to do is wait for the deadline to expire and make sure I’m the first one in line to seize this property.”

“Seize it?”

“They will put a lien on your house, and if you can’t pay that, it will go into foreclosure. Once the government takes possession, it becomes fair game. Didn’t your uncle explain that to you?” His jaw tightened. “Why doesn’t anyone help you?”

Did he really want to know the answer to that? When he continued with the law lesson, I figured his question was rhetorical.

“When you miss due dates, you accumulate interest and late fees on top of what you already owe.”

“We didn’t talk about that.” Even if I had known any of that, I couldn’t have paid it.

“You must have received notices.”

“I did, but I was too busy trying to stay afloat to pay attention. I had to pick and choose what to pay. I kept thinking business would pick up and I could dig myself out of this hole.” Explaining myself to someone like him made me feel insufficient. “I screwed up.”

“Interest has been compounding on top of the principal tax debt.” His whole body coiled into a defensive stance. Like I had done this to offend him or something. “You don’t get any of this, do you?”

“Why would I know about these things?” I asked.

“If you want to be a homeowner, you have to know these things. That comes with the territory.”

“I wanted to finish getting my degree and run this place with my grandmother. I didn’t even have a lawyer when she died.” None of this was a good excuse. I could have researched it. I could have found a place with free legal aide. But when she died, I didn’t want to deal with any of it. I was busy grieving, and then I just wanted to make her proud.

“I have a team of experts who can effectively get this property for me if you go into foreclosure. You’d be out two million dollars, and I’d have your property for a steal.”

There’s the Huxley James that I read about. The relentless businessman with no heart or soul. Him I researched. Tax law, not so much.

“You wouldn’t do that. Would you?”

NINETEEN

Huxley

She has absolutely no idea who I am. Or at least who I was two weeks ago, because stealing Ivy’s house out from underneath her was exactly what I would have done.

“Of course I would do that,” I said. “Your house is the last one I need to complete this project. That’s not a secret. You’ve dropped it in my lap.”

“But I thought we could work this out and I could keep my house and you could still have everything you want.”

God help me but I want you.

“Now that your house is in danger of being foreclosed on, my competitors will swoop in and try to take this property. I can’t let that happen.”

“Why would they do that?”

“That’s how this business works,” I said. “I would do it if I saw opportunity to get an advantage over a competitor. How do you think I got where I am?”

“Everything I read about you is true.”

“I’m probably worse.” I never apologized for who I was and the tactics I used to get what I wanted.

“So, you’re just going to wait it out and then take my house?”

“It won’t be your house once the town takes it.” I reached for her hand, but she pulled away. “Don’t.” I backed her against the counter, placing my hands on either side of her, trapping her. “I knew you owed that money before today, but I still offered you what was more than fair for this property. I didn’t have to do that.”

“You want an award for being honest?”

“I want you to understand that I’ve given you every opportunity to come out of this disastrous inheritance with a fighting chance. I appreciate what you want to do for your family’s legacy, but the odds are stacked against you. Either you can’t see it or you won’t accept it.”