Authors: Callie Harper
“Allow me to
introduce you to our newest arrivals.” Gram turned to another
couple in the room.
I knew who they were
straight away, before she said another word. The big, dark guy had to
be the Montana rancher who claimed to be my father’s long-lost son.
The pretty little thing by his side looked like Miss America, all
blonde, blue-eyed and glowingly pink-cheeked.
“Declan, Kara, this
is Asher.” Gram offered me up to them. I tried to get away with
nodding my hello, but the beauty queen wasn’t having it.
“Hey! Oh my goodness!
It’s so fun to meet you!” She rushed over with enthusiasm, taking
my hand in both of hers. “This is all such a surprise, learning
about Declan’s family, and then when we found out about you! Ash
Black!” She put her hand to her chest in pantomimed shock and I had
to admit, she gave me the start of a smile.
“I love your music! I
really do. My favorite is singing along with you when I’m driving
in my truck!”
“Cool.” I had to
love it. She was just what the Kavanaugh family needed, a
truck-driving Ash Black fan. They looked around my age, Declan maybe
a few years older. He had my father’s big bear of a frame, and I
saw the Kavanaugh stubbornness written all over his face. His jaw
set, he didn’t look like he wanted to be here either. Huh. He might
be legit after all. My brother Colt had to be livid. I decided to
like them.
“You guys should come
to one of my shows. I‘ll set you up back stage.”
“What?! That’s
crazy! You’re the best!” She flew back to Declan’s side,
looking up at him adoringly. “I knew he’d be great!” she
declared.
Declan nodded at his
wife, clearly somewhat less of an Ash Black fan but just as clearly a
big fan of Kara.
“New Year’s I’m
playing Vegas. You guys should come.”
“Maybe. Thank you.”
Declan gave me a tempered thanks. OK. My new Montana half-brother.
Interesting.
Then my stepmonster
Brandi swept in, all boobs. My father hadn’t exactly broken the
mold with his second wife, opting for the 20-years-younger surgically
enhanced model. It was like buying a flashy, cherry red Porsche in
your middle age, only my father had always been more of a Bentley or
Aston Martin guy so Brandi had come as something of a surprise.
“I’m so sorry
Dominic isn’t here,” Brandi apologized to nobody in particular.
“He really wanted to come. But something came up.” They’d
gotten married about five years ago and I’d met her son, my
stepbrother Dominic, maybe twice. His glowering, dark and silent
presence made Heath look like a social party animal.
“Now that we’re all
here.” Gram drew everyone’s attention, standing fireside with
Colt. Her butler Thomas slipped me an old fashioned. Just in time.
“Let me first say, I’m very excited to see you all at tomorrow’s
Christmas party. It’s going to be spectacular. Thank you very much
to Gigi for all of her help with the arrangements.”
Starting to pass the
mantle, I got it. She’d skipped right over my stepmother, Brandi.
Gram was right, Gigi would be the one to keep up the tradition.
Nelson, our attorney,
slipped into the room, silent as the grave. He had to be in his 60s,
maybe 70s by now, but he still looked slim and spry. I caught his eye
and mouthed the words, “Did you get my message?”
He nodded briefly in
affirmation, then swiftly returned his attention to Gram. He didn’t
want to be the one caught being naughty in class. Earlier, I’d
messaged him about Anika Ivanov, requesting a standard background
check. My gut told me she was squeaky clean in every way, but we
needed to be 100% sure. Nelson’s people were the ones to do it fast
and with discretion.
Nelson took the floor
and got right to it, addressing the ramifications of an additional
beneficiary to my father’s will. His British accent made him sound
either awfully formal or a bit sarcastic. Sometimes both. Honestly, I
didn’t listen. I wasn’t inheriting anything, anyway. I was there
for Gram. But I did like seeing Brandi squirm with displeasure and I
got a kick out of watching the smoke come out of Colt’s ears. He
didn’t like this new development one bit.
“You two are roughly
the same age,” Nelson pointed out, looking at him. “Declan’s
27.”
“I’m 28,” Colt
declared, and even he must have known he sounded like an arrogant
jerk, engaging in sibling rivalry, pulling rank. CEO Colt was as
alpha as they came. All of us guys were, really. Maybe that was why
we knocked heads so much.
After Nelson had said
his piece, Gram resumed the stage. She also got right to the point.
“As you all know, I am currently 83 years old. Yet the only one of
you married is Declan.” She looked over at Declan and Kara. “May
I again offer my congratulations to you both. Refresh my memory, when
was the happy day?”
“Two weeks ago.”
Hey, Declan could smile. A big, broad one, too.
“Well done.” Gram
gave her blessing. But then she turned to the rest of us. “As for
you, Colton, Asher, Heathcliff and Georgiana.” Such a mouthful,
what had our parents been thinking when they’d named us? I was sure
Gram had a strong hand in it. “I expect each of you to be married
in the next five years. The thought of turning 90 without all of you
properly settled is preposterous.”
It wasn’t the first
time she’d reminded me of British actress Maggie Smith. Giving us a
marriage ultimatum, was she now?
“Asher,” she turned
to me just as I was taking a sip of my old fashioned. “I’d like
you to get married first.”
I nearly choked. Hand
to my mouth, I looked up at her for a sign of humor. Unfortunately, I
saw nothing but direct sincerity in those sparkling blue eyes.
“He’s too busy
breaking hearts,” Colt mumbled. I rolled my eyes.
“I’m sure it wasn’t
as bad as it looked,” Gigi hushed him. Always the peacemaker.
“If he could just
keep out of the headlines for a single goddamned day,” Colt
grumbled.
“Please refrain from
using profanity,” Gram chided.
“OK.” I clapped my
hands together, ready to leave. “I’ve got my marching orders.
Think I’ll go get started right away.” Heath was already at the
door, beating me to it.
“If you must.” Gram
allowed Heath and I to exit. She knew how to choose her battles.
“We’ll all reconvene tomorrow night.” Gram began walking us
out, though the rest of the family stayed put.
Nelson appeared
alongside me. “The information you requested has been delivered.”
Then he was gone. The man should have been a spy.
Looking in my eyes,
Gram reached up to place both hands on my shoulders. “There’s
more to you than others know.” I’d like to believe her, though
there was no proof of it.
“I’m not getting
married, Gram. Just so you know.” I leaned down so she could give
me a kiss on the cheek.
“We’ll see about
that.” She kissed, then patted me on the cheek, content in her own
superior wisdom.
In the back of a
chauffeured car, I clicked on my phone and opened up the e-file I’d
been waiting for from Nelson’s office. Anika Ivanov. She’d grown
up in Wallingford Falls, NY, a town of 6,000 about an hour and a half
north of the city. Her parents were Russian immigrants, an engineer
and a seamstress, no known mafia ties. She’d transferred from
community college to SUNY New Paltz where she’d gotten her BA in
music, then did her Master’s in Library and Information Studies at
Queens College. She was 24, had been working at the branch library in
SoHo for eight months, taught piano to ten families in Manhattan, and
lived with two roommates in Clinton Hill, Brooklyn. Limited social
media presence, no criminal record. Perfect.
I called Joel. “I’ve
got it figured out. A librarian here in New York. She’s 24 and
teaches piano. Clean background check.”
I could practically
feel the relieved drop in his blood pressure through the phone.
“Goddamn, Ash. Where did you find her?”
“Long story.”
“I’ll talk to
Nelson and send over an NDA. When can you get her to sign?”
“Tonight.”
“That’s my boy.
I’ll tell Lola.”
Phone back in my
pocket, I looked out at the city streets, dark at five thirty though
still bright with lights. Tonight, Anika. I had a sudden image of her
bound, naked, twisting beneath me on the bed. Her pale skin against
the dark sheets, her nipples hard and aching under my fingers. A
blindfold across those lovely eyes, those lush pink lips open,
calling out my name as I slipped a finger down into her dripping wet
pussy.
But first I needed to
get the non-disclosure agreement signed. I had to lock that down, get
the business end of things tied up. Then, I could tie her up. She’d
be mine for the month. This would be a fun month. She’d have to
spend all kinds of time with me, every minute, really. Then the month
would be over and I’d be off and onto the next stop on the Ash
Black train ride. But until then, I’d have plenty of time to undo
the laces on that Victorian bodice of hers. I could seduce her
sweetness into complete submission.
Ana
“OK, what do you
think?” I emerged from my bedroom to show my two eagerly-awaiting
roommates my outfit.
“No!” they chorused
as one.
“Really?” I looked
down. I thought I’d chosen pretty well for my date with Ash Black.
A deep scarlet top with a wide scoop neck that draped well and a
short sparkly black skirt I’d just bought for a holiday party
paired with long, heeled boots. I wanted to look good without looking
like I’d spent all day trying to look good. Casual but not
overalls-causal. Slightly sexy without throwing myself at him. Didn’t
it work?
“First of all, you’re
going to be cold,” Jillian began. “Want to borrow my turtleneck
sweater?”
“This is Ash Black
you’re meeting.” Liv sat perched on a stool next to our kitchen
counter, the only eating space we had in our apartment. Room for
tables and chairs was a luxury I couldn’t afford in New York City.
“I didn’t even
think you liked Ash Black?”
“I don’t. He
manufactures sellout corporate rock.” Liv preferred German indie
punk bands, the kind of soundtrack that would work well in the
apocalypse. “But you look like a librarian.”
“I do?” I looked
down at myself again. My fitted skirt hit mid-thigh and the heels on
my boots were at least three inches tall. I felt like I was kind of
pushing the envelope.
“Here’s what you
do.” Liv slipped off the stool to demonstrate. “Big coat.” She
brought her hands to the front as if clasping two sides of a jacket.
“Nothing underneath but a lacy bra, panties and my stiletto
thigh-highs. You get to the bar and…” She gave me a wink as she
opened her pretend coat.
“I don’t know about
public nudity.”
“Oh, get over it.”
“That is a really bad
idea.” Jillian held up her finger in admonishment.
Perfect, I realized.
I’d chosen the perfect outfit since they both hated it. Crazy,
off-her-rocker Liv thought it was too boring while conservative,
worrywart Jillian thought it wasn’t sensible enough. Jackpot.
“OK, you guys. I’m
heading out.” I wound a scarf around my neck for Jillian.
“At least let me get
some eye pencil on you,” Liv asked.
“Go light,” I
warned her, standing under the best—also the only—bright,
overhead light in our apartment.
She was on me in a
second, tilting back my head. “Look up.”
“Think Kate
Middleton, not Cleopatra.”
“Boring.” Liv shook
her head, but followed instructions.
“Tell him he should
be ashamed of himself for what he did to Mandy Monroe.” Jillian
handed me my purse.
“OK, I’ll start
with that,” I teased her.
“Tell him he’s a
corporate brand. He’s not making music. He’s making money.” Liv
always sounded so angry.
“OK, thanks! Wish me
luck!”
“Good luck!” they
called after me as I walked out the front door and then down three
flights of stairs. I didn’t know how the winds of fate had paired
me with these roommates, but I thanked them. Liv and Jillian were
pure entertainment.
The wind whipped, but
my coat, scarf and excitement kept me warm. All the way on the
subway, I kept smiling and nearly wanting to pinch myself. Ash Black.
He could have any woman he wanted, and he’d asked me to join him
tonight! It seemed impossible, and who knew, maybe when I’d get to
that hotel he wouldn’t even be there. It might have all been a
dream.
But maybe not. Maybe
he’d be waiting for me and we’d have a lovely time together.
Crazier things happened, right? This was exactly the type of
adventure I’d hoped I’d find when I moved to the city. My
favorite rock star stumbling into the library where I worked and
somehow seeming to become instantly smitten with me. Even as I
thought of it, it seemed impossible.
But off at the Spring
Street stop and down a couple of blocks I strode into the entrance of
the Soho Grand Hotel, found my way to the bar and there he was, Ash
Black. Sitting at the bar talking with the bartender. The soft
lighting and old world grandeur of the surroundings made him look
straight out of a movie set. But he was so gorgeous he probably made
everything look like a movie, that sweep of dark hair, his strong jaw
and that flash of white teeth as he smiled. He turned as I walked in
and when he saw me a slow, sexy smile crept across his handsome face.
He made me feel like the most beautiful woman in the room.
“You came.” He
stood up to greet me, wrapping his arms around me as if no sight
could please him more. The kiss he gave me on my cheek met all the
technical qualifications of casual, but it instantly set my blood to
simmer, the feel of his full lips against my skin.
“Hi.” I gave him a
shy smile, all the exhilaration I’d felt bubbling up inside of me
on the way over melting into nervousness at the sight of him. He
looked so cool, so sexy, his black boots with just the right amount
of scuff, a thick leather bracelet on his wrist, a tattoo on his
thumb.