You Called Me-ARE and Apple epub (22 page)

“And I have controlling shares over everyone.” Seamus stood, crossed the room and poured himself a whiskey. Never one to rush his drink, Seamus swirled it in the glass before letting the smooth drink slip down his throat. Setting the glass down, he peered out over the park backing the office building through the large window.

“What plans do you have for the estate in Ireland? You and my son hold an even amount of shares as do you and Sophie over the land. Signing my shares over to you will give you controlling interest over the castle.”

“Mother will sign her shares over I'm certain.” His mother would sign it over to ensure Brian never had controlling interest.

“Only a portion of the family estate belongs to Brian. The rest goes to my first son’s son.” He tossed back the remainder of his drink. “That, my boy, is you.”

“Grandfather, your grandfather built that estate over two hundred years ago. Now it carries a stigma of what Brian’s run through there.”

“That’s why I’m counting on you, son. Blakemore estate needs heirs, and without yours, Brian has access to the title. You know the will as well as any. My shares will give you controlling interest, but you need a family for your appointment to be approved by the shareholders.” Seamus eased around propped a hip on the tall chair’s arm. “If they think you'll do the same as Brian, you’ve lost their vote for appointment.”

Emulating Brian was the last thing he’d do.

“I have a life and business here.”

“And a woman,” Seamus added, touching a hand to his heart waggling his thick brows. “A pretty black woman. You need to get on this now. Times running out son.”

“Watching me, Grandfather?”

“You’re a Blakemore. Everybody’s watching you and Ms. Claiborne.” Seamus held up a paper and Jonathan recognized it as the Local Pub newspaper from Ireland that Seamus has delivered here in the States. Holding a hand out he caught the folded newsprint. Turning it over there was him and Kenya getting off the bus at the courthouse where they'd dropped off the kids. He'd kissed her as she got in the car with Julia who'd came to pick her up that evening. She wouldn't let him take her home. Opening his desk drawer he dropped the paper and came from around his desk. Kenya would be watched now, just what he didn't want for his woman.

“Have a problem with Kenya, because she's black, Grandfather?”

“Because she’s black?” The man’s dark look always appealed to Jonathan. Mysterious, he liked that. No one could read him and get the upper hand. “An Irishman doesn’t turn his nose up to a beautiful woman. Especially a good woman, and from what I’ve learned she’s just what this family needs.”

“What’s that, Grandfather?” Opening the cabinet alongside the window, Jonathan retrieved two files from a drawer then shut the door. Setting the folders on the tray beside the door for his secretary, he flipped open the covers, signed the contract for the files going to his office in Ireland and returned to his desk. Jonathan looked at his mentor and knew this conversation was overdue.

“A good standing in the financial community, she’s young, but her professional profile is impeccable. A black woman on your arm will open more doors than it will close.” Jonathan watched the gleam in his eyes glow.

“She’s a game piece now?” He'll do what he has to for his family, but not use Kenya to move this family up the popularity chart.

“Don’t go all politically correct on, me boy. What attracted you to Ms. Claiborne?”

Jonathan eyed his grandfather, knew what he wanted to know about Kenya. “Besides her beauty and personality, she’s intelligent. Knows what she wants.”

Seamus rubbed his wedding band, setting his roguish grin on Jonathan. “When it rains, do you check to see if she's out of the elements?”

The old man knew too much.

“She's important to me. That's all yer getting old man,” Jonathan warned, raising his eyes from the file to scowl at Seamus.  

“Aye, she brings out the Irish fire in your soul. You love her. Fiona told me how you followed her around like a lovesick pup in the mountains. Said with the kids you take skiing. An attentive woman is more attractive than men give credit.” Jonathan eyed the man picking up one of their brochures for the inn tossing it to him over his desk. “We’ve been trying to pull in the African and African American tourist dollar for years. So much hostility between our people, this will have those that never considered the inn make it a priority to visit.”

“She’ll bring in the African American tourist dollar, grandfather,” he said sardonically, knowing the truth in his words. Kenya was personable enough to bring in every person she spoke with.

Seamus said, “African American, women, ethnic, young, old…don’t kid yourself son. African American’s have buying power in America and around the world. Kenya will direct some of that flow toward the family business.”

“Don’t ever let me hear you say this to Kenya. She is a woman, not a financial strategy move. You sound like Brian.”

“How close are ye to marrying the lass?”

He wasn’t expecting that question. His grandfather had never expressed a preference for him either way. Seldom did Seamus talk to him about his women.

“Ms. Claiborne’s not a chess move for this family. I’ll be damned if I use her to wash away Brian’s dirt.”

“You love this woman, Jonathan. Take her to Ireland. Show her the estate. See what she does. Money changes people. See how she reacts to what you have.”

“Plan to. I don’t like testing her, but I understand. I don’t want the Blakemore name to take another hit. The land still belongs to mother. I’ll take care of our family, but Brian’s hands don’t touch Kenya. Any woman to cross that threshold he finds a way to corrupt.”

“This family needs you boy. You don’t let your other head control your decisions.” He pushed to his feet and started for the door. “Let’s get that pretty woman over so your grandmother can meet her future granddaughter.”

“What did you mean by times running out? Are you sick?” he said coming around the desk to sit on the corner. “What aren't you telling me old man?”

“If Ms. Claiborne is in your heart, make her a Blakemore...now. Trust your grandfather on this.”

“Grandfather...”

“Doona argue, with me son, make her yours now.”

Jonathan stood, saw his grandfather out to the lobby. Kenya in Ireland…with Brian. He twisted the watch on his wrist. The family’s hands were fully around his throat now. That land belonged to his mother. Time he made Brian respect that line and find out what put fear in his grandfather's eyes.

The wind blew over her face. Blinded by her hair, Kenya grasped Julia’s coat going into the restaurant. Crammed into the rotating doors they pigeon waddled into the building. Shaking the rain snow combo from her coat, she caught the glorious aroma of hot food. The live band’s soothing beat echoed through the elegant yet informal restaurant.

Hunger beat at her after shopping for three hours. Kenya needed to bump up her wardrobe now that she met more clients not just surprise tours at work. After shopping with Julia after work, they stopped at Andiamos for some Italian.

“So how’s the new position going?” Julia asked. Kenya added her bags to hers under the table. 

Kenya eased her hips onto the chair. “It was worth going skiing, because I love it. I’m meeting new people and many of the people I’d seen coming in as we’re leaving in the morning I’m meeting. How about you, your promotion was a surprise? Why hadn't you told me you were up for it?”

“I still had another interview. Forget about that. How’s it going with Mr. Blakemore? That man swept me off my feet at the club. So attentive and let me go on record as being the first to say Jonathan Blakemore is decadent.”

“I haven’t seen decadent all week, Got sweet texts from him but he’s been very busy. Turns out he owns a financial consulting firm and a limousine service they use at the airport to pick up private plane passengers, and other interests overseas.” She didn’t say he picks up runaways and takes them to shelters that’s how they met. The occasional hooker when she gets left stranded out in the middle of nowhere, no matter how honorable his intentions are, saying it out loud sounded suspect. But going into his childhood and the jazz clubs was TMI for Julia.

“He’s a millionaire?”

She thought of his closet and all the hand tailored suits. “Didn’t ask to see his portfolio, but the Italian leather shoes says I won’t see him at Target,” she said eyeing the room for a waiter. “I’m starving,” waving at the waiter.

When the waiter arrived, they ordered petite steaks and hot cider.

“I didn’t tell you he asked me to go to Ireland with him next weekend.”

“Kenya! Is that where his family is?”

“Yes, it’s an estate. He needs to take care of some family business and wants to show me around.”

Julia squirmed in her chair before leaning closer across the table. “What do you do when you kiss a guy? I’ve never gotten the kinds of gifts and offers you’re getting.”

“We’ve more than kissed, Julia. Jonathan is not twenty. A peck on the cheek isn’t gonna cut it.”

Julia’s mouth went slack. Kenya knew this would happen once she told her.

“I’m not talking about it, Julia. I’m trying to not sabotage this by connecting each event to a step up the marriage ladder. I’m enjoying having a man in my life right now. The promotion has opened doors for me and I can’t get side tracked because Jonathan Blakemore strolled into my life.”

Julia cocked a brow at Kenya. “Sex must be ridiculously good for you not to talk about it?” Julia asked.

Kenya rubbed between her eyes, trying not to blush. Their first time together Jonathan had her hands flat against the window and her naked behind in the air. “He's very, very, generous and attentive.”

“Generous and attentive...Chica I'm your best friend...really, that's all I get?” Julia played with her knife turning it end on end. “Okay...yes or no? Is he generous in size...compliments...sharing blankets--what?”

“You only call me Chica when you want the dirty truth,” Kenya confessed and Julia leaned in on the table waggling her brows. “I'll give you this much...I left my hand prints on the window in his home office and I had carpet burn on my butt.”

Julia dropped back in her seat, threw her head back. Her lips parted to say something, but something across the room caught her attention. 

“You know that man, Kenya?” Julia tossed her chin back toward a table in the corner. 

Angling around, Kenya pulled her scarf off draping it over the back of her chair. “I don’t think so. I can’t get a good look at him so far across the room,” voice strained her trying to see her admirer or stalker.

Then she caught the man’s face as he rose from his seat and made his way over to the bar.

A waiter approached their table. “Excuse me, Ms. Kenya Claiborne?”

Bracing a hand on the table, she twisted in her chair. “I’m Kenya Claiborne.”

“The gentleman in the corner sent these drinks over.”

“I don’t know who that is. Tell him no thank you, please.” Scooting around, she faced Julia.

“Maybe he’s somebody from upstairs at the office,” Julia offered.

She shrugged. “That’s a player move and I’m too tired and hungry to be hit on by…” From Julia's expression, someone stood behind her.

“Excuse me, Ms. I’m not in the habit of sending gifts and having them returned.” Kenya craned her neck around to see the body behind the rich deep voice straight from Ireland.

“I’m not in the habit of accepting drinks from men I don’t know.”

The man extended a hand. “Brian Blakemore, Ms. Claiborne.” Jonathan's cold tone when he'd spoke of his father in the penthouse rang through her mind. The man repulsed her on site, with his gold watch sparkling with a row of diamonds around the face. Living in the castle while Jonathan's mother had to work for a living, slug.

“Jonathan’s—”

“My son has impeccable taste, Ms. Claiborne. I can see my son’s attraction.” She watched him take Julia’s hand, making the polite introductions.

“How do you know who I am, Mr. Blakemore?”

“Ms. Claiborne, join me at my table. I’m on a tight schedule.”

“I’m not alone, Mr. Blakemore.” Indicating Julia, Kenya’s fists balled under the table.

“Tight schedule, Ms. Claiborne,” The man braced his hands to the back of her chair and Kenya felt it sliding back. He’s serious.

“Kenya, I’ll hold your chair. Leave your coat,” Julia offered.

“I don’t care whose father you are. Ordering me to join you is rude.”

“Kenya, it’s fine. Obviously Mr. Blakemore has something important to talk to you about.”

Kenya eased into the chair across from Jonathan’s father and realized the man had bodyguards. That Kevlar comment on the slopes held more truth than joke. 

“Jonathan’s my only son.”

“Look.” Kenya would be floating in the river after this. “I know you and Jonathan aren’t on the best of terms—” She started and he cut her off.

“Full of fire. I see how you caught and kept his attention.” The man steepled his fingers resting his nose on his knuckles, his features were as handsome as Jonathan’s only twenty years older. “Are you willing to give up everything for my son, Ms. Claiborne?”