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open-air plunge

Christian

“Mr. Barone?” The voice on the intercom cuts the silence in my office. “Mr. Gallo is here to see you.”

“Send him in.”

Ren enters, hands stuffed in his pockets.

“Have a seat, Ren.” I extend a hand.

“I began on your project.” He looks straight ahead. “Permission to speak freely, sir?”

“Of course.” I set down the papers I was reading and lean back in my chair.

“Before I dig any deeper, I need to make you aware of something that may come to light during the investigation.”

“And that would be?”

“I was raised by a single mom. I was the product of an on-going affair, one that never culminated in their marriage.”

“And this is relevant because…”

“My father was—” He clears his throat. “Is, rather… Giani Barone. It may come up as I dig into your background.”

What the fuck? This guy is my half-brother?

I study him. We’re similar in build, though he’s taller than me by two inches, maybe more. But he easily has twenty pounds of muscle on me, and I’m no slouch. His eyes are blue, but very dark and, if I’m not mistaken, we have the same nose.

He sits under my scrutiny, with an air about him that can only be described as confident. The dude was Army and carries himself as a man who never left.

He’s been in my home. He’s known this for— “How long have you known?”

“Since I turned eighteen.”

“And you kept your mother’s name?”

“She’s the only parent I’ve ever known. No need to change it to that of a man I’ve never met.”

A man I’ve never met. They’ve never met.

“Do you intend to?”

“Not at this point.”

“And you’re telling me this now because…?”

“If he was a man who knew he had a son, which he did, and chose to do nothing about it. If he was the cheating kind, and consequences be damned—” Ren says, not knowing my temperature is rising.

No one speaks about my dad this way. “Then he may very well have others we don’t know about.

And they may not be as uninterested as I am. ”

As far as twenty-four hours go, mine’s been a roller coaster. And this weightless, open-air plunge is my least favorite part.

“Right.Anything else?”

Ren’s face is a careful mask.

“No, sir.” He stands, peering down on me in what… curiosity. He doesn’t expect us to hug it out, right?

“Thanks. Keep me posted.” I reach for the papers on my desk, effectively dismissing him. He leaves without saying more, and I stare at the words on the page as they float across my vision, but wholly unseeing them.

If this is what I discovered without anyone digging in, what could turn up when someone does?

I’ve immersed myself in work until my eyeballs want to bleed with use.

Barone Hospitality is succeeding past my wildest dreams. Michelin rated chefs are seeking me out to form partnerships and start the hippest restaurant or speakeasy. Food and beverage is a lucrative industry and easy to do in a town with this kind of wealth and this kind of weather .

Barone Holdings puts Hospitality to shame.

The real estate I buy is targeted, perfectly located, and prime for profitability.

The real estate I sell is only if I must and then only to the highest bidder with terms that I deem worth it.

That is to say, business is booming. Where I don’t want to sell, I place high end bars or my restaurants, drawing the niche customer I want into the property.

Loft apartments for the über wealthy with Front Range views reside above clothiers and high-end accessory shops with long-term, high-dollar leases.

My father helped me launch but divested his interest before he moved to Carmel with his third wife.

My mom, may she rest in peace, never met Cami, the blonde swimsuit model who’s two years older than me.

The woman is savvy and hungry and wanted a piece of her new husband.

I didn’t want her having a piece of me, so divestiture was easily agreed upon.

The tracks were greased for me, but I was well on my way when any financial interests could be compromised.

Cami and my dad live on the coast and “weekend” in Vail when the spirit moves them. It moves them less and less over time, and that’s all right with me.

My dad, the cheater. How many people has he fathered and thrown away? I am an only child… or I’ve always thought I am. With at least one brother, I have to prepare for the idea there are more.

I spin in my chair and look out over Cherry Creek. The lights of shops spill out onto the sidewalks and the streetlights flicker above them.

Shit. What time is it? I look at my watch and am shocked to see it’s after eight.

I grab my phone and dial.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Princess. How was your day?”

“Quiet but productive. I saw Joanie for a session. I think we’re making real progress. And I got some edits done on the images from the last couple of weeks. So, it’s been good. You?”

“My day got away from me. I’m heading home now. Did Corinne cook? ”

She pauses. “She did, but I ate. I waited. And then I couldn’t wait anymore. I made you a plate, though.”

“Okay, baby. See you in a few.” I click off and scroll the document on my computer one last time. It’s Ren’s HR file. There’s nothing there of any consequence other than his birthday. He just turned thirty one. Five and half years apart.

What the hell do I do with that?

Ayla

“Hey, Halley. I don’t want to cut you off, but Christian just got home. I can hear the garage door.”

“Just like old times.”

Wait. “What?”

“This was you your first year of marriage. Not like we talk about anything he doesn’t know or you wouldn’t be okay with him overhearing, but you always wanted to be available when he walked in the door.”

Oh. “Well, that’s news to me, but yay for old times.”

“Talk soon!”

“You know it!” I hang up and hit a button on the microwave to heat up Christian’s dinner. The thing beeps just as he shucks his coat onto a hook in the mudroom.

I set his plate on the island and can’t stop the smile on my face when he enters the kitchen. “Red or white? It’s chicken and rice in a mushroom gravy plus green beans and shaved sprouts salad.”

Christian’s head rocks back, but he replies, “Red. I’ll get it. Want anything?” He kisses my lips as he passes me for the butler’s pantry.

“Nah, I’m good. I’m sticking with water for now.”

He returns with an unopened bottle and the wine opener before pouring a half the bottle into an aerator.

“That kind of day, huh?”

“Let’s just say it was downhill from the moment I left our bed.” He sits at the bar stool next to me and digs into his dinner.

“Well, it was an above average morning.”

“Above average?” He turns to look at me, amusement painted on his face, before looking to the ceiling and murmuring, “Above average, she says.”

“Would you prefer ‘below average’? I could always say ‘needs improvement,’ but considering this morning’s”—I clear my throat—“activities… That would be dishonest.”

The smirk that plays on his lips is worth it. “So, no improvement needed. Got it.”

“I’m not saying you shouldn’t practice, you know, to hone your skills, but…”

“Well, wife, if you insist on practice, I’ll oblige. I’d hate to become average in bed.”

“As if you could ever be average.” It slips out before I can stop it. I stand to round the island, but he grabs my wrist and tugs me back to him, kissing me deeply.

“You’re the best part of my day,” he murmurs against my lips when he pulls back.

“Yeah?”

“Fishing for compliments, baby?”

“Maybe.”

“You never need to fish. It’s always you. You’re the best part of every day.”

I melt into him.

He kisses my temple and whispers there, “Love you, Ayla.”

“Love you, too, Christian.”

“Twenty-four hours.” He pulls back and takes a deep slug of his wine. “I’d relive them just to hear you say that to me. That’s twice.” He releases a huge exhale. “I don’t want to change the topic. Really, I don’t, but we need to talk.”

Worst words in the history of humanity.

I stiffen and pull away.

“Nope. You can’t retreat. It’s not bad. Well, it’s… hell, it’s bad, but it’s not what you think, and you need to know. ”

“Know what?”

“Your father… God, I hate that man?—”

That’s not how I thought he’d start a conversation. “He’s mentioned a thing or two”—or twenty—“about your rivalry.”

“I’m not surprised.” He pauses to refill his stem and sip his wine.

“Your father’s attorney and mine are partners.

It would be unethical of them to discuss our businesses, so they don’t.

Typically, anyway. I’d be lying to say they don’t ever because it happens, but not often, and not in a way I take advantage of. ”

I reclaim my stool, pulling my feet up to the seat and wrapping my knees in a hug.

“After your accident, your dad began asking questions. He was asking about court-appointed emergency guardianship.”

I stiffen.Say what?

“Sherman was in the office and overheard the call and was concerned. He reached out to me.”

My mouth pops open. Nausea roils. Anger bubbles but I sit dumbfounded as he continues.

“Your father could have applied for conservatorship. Legally, he could’ve done what was needed, assumed your finances and taken control of your interests, before you or I ever knew.

I’d be lying to say I didn’t think he would do such a thing.

Maybe to get to me, maybe not. But that’s not the point, because either way, you would be controlled and unable to fight his wishes.

You’ve told me so many times how hard you fought to avoid being under his thumb.

I couldn’t allow it to go down like that. ”

I’m speechless, but my mind whirls. Dad’s always been controlling. “He’s always tried to ram his will down my throat.” I stare off into memory after memory of his catch-twenty-twos that always resulted in him winning.

Christian breaks through my stroll down nightmare lane. “You woke up and didn’t remember anything. You didn’t know about your business, your home… me.”

I swallow, hating the pain on his face.

“He was poised to do it, had the opportunity, and would’ve dictated your life. I beat him to the punch and filed for guardianship myself. ”

“I don’t… understand.” There’s too much data, too many emotions to get what’s right in front of me.

He scrubs a hand down his very pronounced stubble. “You’re missing the point your brothers so quickly understood. They know, by the way. Why do you think they allowed me to stay with you two nights ago?”

I hadn’t considered that. In my emotional haze, I failed to even think how Christian got into my room and bed or how or why Cian would’ve allowed such a thing. Cian and Liam would throw down over anything that would remotely be to my detriment.

“If conservatorship was going to happen, I wanted it to be me, who was in this with you, not Seamus. I don’t want to control you. I don’t want your obedience, and I don’t need your money.”

Oh. Oh, I get it.

“I want you well and I’m willing to go to court with you to get your autonomy back, when the time is right. Do you really think your father would do that?”

Do I? No. Not if I’m being honest. I don’t think my father would ever choose to release power over me, even if my memory fully returned. I think he’d choose complete control over one of his children over voluntary love from all three of us.

“So why haven’t you done it… given me my autonomy back? Don’t I deserve my own agency?”

He looks like I punched him. “I’m not controlling anything, Princess.

You have full autonomy regardless of what the documents say.

I thought you saw that clearly yesterday morning at the bank.

Paperwork shows I have guardianship.” He stares down at his left hand before holding it out to show me his wedding ring glinting off the lights.

“I’m protecting you, not controlling you.

If we go now and restore everything to you, and your father has any hint that that’s been done, he could apply, and we’re in the exact same situation.

You’re asking me to save you from one fire only to risk tossing you into another, one in which I can’t protect you.

Seamus and I are not flip sides of the same coin.

His intentions and mine are very different. ”

My brain is in hyperdrive. My dad sought to own me.

Legally.

Financially.

Under complete control.

One hundred percent at his mercy

“So that’s how and why everything came to be.

You need to know. Not because I revel in telling you your dad is a dick, but because I want you to know you can trust me.

” He pauses and takes a deep pull of the merlot, staring off to the living room before seeming to come to some recognition.

Turning back to me, he adds, “But you already do. Something changed yesterday. What was it?”