Sculpt-Paige_Michaels-Becca_Jameson (14 page)

“One of the stepsisters. I heard
all
about it,” Lucinda answered. Her mother could not stop talking about how talented and precious Little Emma was.

Lucinda turned to her brother. “Can I get you something to drink while I put the flowers away, Jack?”

“Sweet tea, Lucy. Thank you.” So her brother was in the off-again phase of his complicated relationship with alcohol. “With a thumb of whisky.” Or not.

“Sweet tea for me too, Lucy honey,” Emma oozed. Jesus, the entire thing was like walking into a Tennessee Williams play.

Lucinda forced a grin. “Coming right up.”

When she returned with the tea, Jackson and Emma were standing in the living room, eyeing the place like they were real estate assessors. Her parents had it decorated like a Southern plantation, old things and old money seeping out of every corner. If Jack and Emma had been normal human beings, Lucinda wouldn’t be able to blame them. Everyone who’d ever entered this home all of Lucinda’s life had gazed around licking their lips like they were in a candy store. It was that fantastic.

Her father co-owned an exclusive antique furniture store right in town. The store had been his father’s before him, and it had been in business for over a hundred years, owned and operated now by the sons of the two original owners.

Lucinda had never been interested in antiques even though she had an eye for art and had always loved sculpture and pottery. But she could appreciate the family home through the eyes of a stranger. The entire place was like stepping into the past.

She glanced around, wondering what her crazy sister-in-law was thinking. “So what’s up?” Lucinda asked.

Emma’s mouth dipped into a frown. “We’re here to see Daddy, of course.”

Not your daddy, you plastic money-grubber
. Jackson worked for their father, though what he exactly did was anyone’s guess. He wasn’t the sharpest knife in the box, and Lucinda had long suspected her dad gave Jackson the job because he wasn’t sure anyone else would hire Jack. Too many brain cells had poured out of him leading his college team to football nirvana.

“He’s sleeping,” Lucinda said. “He sleeps most days.” She faced her brother. “I’m really worried, Jack.”

Jackson took a long gulp of his tea and whisky and shrugged. “He’s Daddy. Nothing can keep him down for long.”

“The oncologist said six months, at best.”

“Nonsense. It’s a stumble. The chemo will straighten it all out.”

Lucinda blinked. She shouldn’t be surprised. Her brother had long denied anything messy in the world, hiding first behind football and then behind booze like they could shield him from reality. Which maybe they could.

Emma sat primly on the floral turn-of-the-century sofa like a dainty butterfly. “We’re sure he’ll make a full recovery, but this little spell has had me and Jack thinking. Daddy needs to get his affairs in order, make sure he doesn’t leave Mama with all these complications.”

Lucinda narrowed her eyes at her sister-in-law. She’d heard this sort of thing before. Emma had been angling to have Jack take over the company from the minute she married him. Constantly going on about how it’s a family business and Jackson’s legacy. “What are you saying, Emma?”

Emma frowned even deeper. “Lucy dear, I think you know what I’m saying. Daddy doesn’t have a will. I’ve been on him about it for years. But he’s always thought he was invincible. Jackson’s future needs to be ensured. So does Little Emma’s.”

“I’m not sure what you expect me to do about it.”

Emma huffed. “Well, I suspect the reason he hasn’t done it is that he’s been waiting for you to come home. The proverbial prodigal daughter. And it may be all well and good that you’re here now, but what’s to stop you from taking Daddy’s money and flitting after some pipe dream and leaving the rest of us here to pick up the pieces?”

“Flitting after a pipe dream?” Lucinda wanted to punch the smirk off Emma’s face.

“You went to art school. You make pots, Lucy dear. Let’s not pretend this is making the world a better place. I mean, you lost your last job.”

Lucinda shook her head. She was so done. “You should go. Both of you. This isn’t my business, and I have no say over what Daddy does.” Nor did she care.

A noise sounded from the hall, and Lucinda looked back to see her frail father leaning heavily against the doorframe. A lump formed in her throat.

“Lucy honey, I was hoping you could make me some soup.”

Lucinda crossed to him. “Sure, Daddy. Let’s get you back in bed, and I’ll bring it up to you.”

Emma rose and grasped Jackson’s elbow. “We’re so happy to see you up and about, Daddy.”

“Uh-huh,” he mumbled and allowed Lucy to lead him from the room.

“Think about what we were saying, Lucy honey. And come by for a visit. Little Emma would love to see you,” Emma called after her.

Lucinda tucked the blankets around her father, but he clung to her hand as she pulled away. “Daddy?”

“Can’t let those two have my money. You understand? Can’t let Jackson drive the business into the ground. Call my lawyer.”

“Shh, Daddy. It’s okay.” She smoothed the few strands of his hair away from his clammy brow.

“Waited for you, baby girl,” he murmured, and then fell into a deep sleep.

She went downstairs to make a bowl of soup for him and herself. She hadn’t been eating well, and part of her wondered if Theo would notice she’d lost weight. Theo. He seemed so far away, more like a dream than anything real. What had Emma called it? A pipe dream.

Her family had made no bones about their disgust in her artist lifestyle. Even Daddy, who usually didn’t weigh in on small picture things like that, had asked her if she was ever going to get a real job. But she loved everything about working with clay, and her fingers itched even now to start a new project.

Her mother walked in as she was ladling the soup into bowls.

“I saw Emma and Jackson. They said they stopped by.”

Lucinda nodded. “Yes. Emma’s exactly the same. She wants Daddy’s money.”

Mama raised a shoulder. “That’s for him to decide.”

Lucinda put down the ladle and looked at her. “Are you kidding? He’s sick as hell. He can’t make those kind of decisions in this state.”

“Well, he would have made them a long time ago if you hadn’t run off to the north and decided to pursue your art. How could he leave you half the business when you’re completely unreliable? I don’t know what I did to earn two such worthless children.”

A breath whooshed out of Lucinda. She could be calm. She could ignore all the biting responses she wanted to offer. She dug her fingers into her palm. “Mama. I don’t want half of Daddy’s business. This isn’t my home.” She’d never wanted anything to do with the family business. And she’d made that clear more times than she could count over the years, even moving across the country to escape her mother’s nagging.

Her mother shook her head. “Always so selfish. Such a selfish, selfish girl.”

Then her mother walked from the room without offering another word.

Three days later, Theo landed at the Atlanta airport. He’d had Camille clear his schedule for the rest of the week, and from a quick Google search, found the address for Lucinda’s parents’ house in Decatur. Whether she realized it or not, she needed him. All that passive-aggressive nonsense about letting her go. Classic brat. She might as well have texted him a picture of herself offering him the whip.

He pulled his rental into the driveway of a large house. Almost as big as his own home. Her father owned a fairly successful furniture business. It was privately held and seemingly worth a pretty decent chunk of change if he ever decided to go public with it. No wonder his brat had never been that impressed with his home. She’d grown up surrounded by Georgia wealth.

Theo left his bag in the trunk of the rental and walked toward the front door. He shouldn’t be this nervous. He shouldn’t feel like this. Not as a Dom. Not as the man his Lucy had claimed to be in love with. He pulled his shoulders back and rang the bell.

When the door swung open, the gut-punch of relief at seeing her nearly brought him to his knees. He dragged her into his arms and devoured her with a kiss. Ragingly inappropriate in front of her family home, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care. Finally, he pulled away.

“I’m very disappointed in you, brat,” he said with a wide smile. He traced his fingers over the dark circles beneath her eyes. She appeared thinner, but he couldn’t tell completely.

She slipped out of his arms and stepped back. “I told you not to come, Theo.”

“You did.”

She raised her brows. “So? What are you doing here?”

“
Don’t come
isn’t your safe word.”

She barked out a laugh then, and it lit up her whole face. “You’re relentless.”

“Yes. And you love me.”

She looked away, but he forced her chin up with one finger. She licked her lips, and he wanted to devour her all over again. “Yes, Master,” she whispered. “I love you.”

“Then invite me inside and tell me everything.”

She nodded, linked her fingers with his, and drew him into the living room. He was stunned. He could see how his brat would suffocate in this environment. He almost hesitated to sit on the furniture himself. He shouldn’t have been surprised to find so many antiques considering the business her father owned, but Lucinda looked completely out of place.

“We have to keep it down. My dad’s resting.”

“You’re here alone with him?”

“My mom has other commitments.”

He searched her face. “Something is wrong with your dad?”

She released a long breath and perched on the edge of a floral couch with intricately designed curved wooden legs. “He’s dying,” she said, and tears pressed against her lashes. He sat next to her and brushed them away. “Pancreatic cancer. They needed me here to help.”

There was more to it than that. Theo could tell. But he’d tackle one thing at a time. “How are
you
doing?”

Her hand trembled as he squeezed it. “I’m scared. My dad, he’s always been this guy. This strong imposing authority who had this solid center line. Even when he was so obviously wrong, he never changed his mind. But now, it’s like he can’t even stand on his own two feet. He’s completely lost and only has moments of lucidity. I don’t know if it’s the cancer or the chemo, but I barely even recognize him. And sometimes he gets so angry. Yells and screams in frustration, and there’s only me here. But you know what’s worse?”

He squeezed her hand again. “What?”

“Times like now. When he’s so quiet. I watch him sleep, and there are moments when I’m not even sure he’s still breathing. Daddy has never been like that. Ever.”

“Oh, sweetheart, I’m so sorry.” He pulled her into his arms and breathed her in. He’d never seen her like this. So vulnerable.

They stayed like that a long time, but then he heard a noise come from the kitchen, and Lucinda shot off the couch, her shoulders back and her head down. Like a submissive. A small woman with white-blonde overly sprayed hair walked in and appraised Theo.

“Who’s this, Lucy?”

The way she said Lucy sounded like nails on a chalkboard to Theo. No wonder Lucinda had never used the nickname.

“Mama, this is my friend Theo from Minneapolis. Theo, this is my mother.”

“Mrs. Chatman, it’s very nice to meet you.” He tried his least intimidating smile, but she didn’t drop the skeptical expression from her face.

“Nice to meet you too, Theo. Now, if you’ll excuse us, I’m sure Lucy here has told you she has responsibilities to her ailing father. You’ll need to go.”

Theo blinked. Holy crap. Did this pint-size matron just dismiss him? She had a wide grin on her face, and he thought of a great white shark. No wonder Lucinda was so mousy around the woman. She was a first-class bitch. His heart ached for the pain this so-called mother had undoubtedly caused his Lucy for most of her life.

Lucinda’s face pleaded with him to leave when he glanced at her.

It took all his energy not to put her mother in her place and teach her some manners, but he didn’t want to do anything to upset Lucinda more than she already was. Her mother may be a bitch, but Lucinda obviously loved her father.

He moved to the door, fisting his hands at his side so he wouldn’t drag Lucinda out with him.

“It was nice to meet you, Theo. Have a good flight back to Minnesota,” Mrs. Chatman said, pulling the door open. This woman explained everything about his brat. Jesus. No wonder.

He needed to regain some control here. “Oh, I’m not leaving yet, Mrs. Chatman.” He glanced in Lucinda’s direction. She was still immobilized in the stifling living room among dark antique furnishings that belonged in a museum instead of a home, but at least she was looking at him. He winked. “I’ll call you later this evening, Lucinda. We’ll have dinner.”

Her mom pulled the door wider. “Lucinda will be preparing dinner for her father.”

He smiled wide back at her. Shark to shark. “Tomorrow then. Even servants get time off.”

Then before she could say anything else, he strode from the front porch and back to his rental. This situation was a bigger problem than he expected, but Theo would not let that keep him from bringing his brat back home where she belonged.

»»•««

Theo had been in town for four days, and she’d barely seen him. Sure, he came to the house every single day, but suddenly all her mom’s previous commitments had disappeared, and she was present to dismiss him. Over and over again.

Theo took it all in stride, but Lucinda was sure he’d leave soon. Why would he stay?

Her mother was rude, condescending, and a genuine bitch. Why Theo continued to put up with it was beyond her.

The most embarrassing thing was when her mother had outwardly made it perfectly clear that it was inappropriate for Lucinda to keep close friends of another race. Another
race
. She had suggested, right in front of Theo, that the two of them should not waste their time developing a “friendship” with someone not of “their own kind.” Lucinda had nearly died, her face heating up to a level that left her almost faint.