Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 75589 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75589 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
I smile my reply then look out at the clear ribbon of water. “Dad, I asked about the nurse?”
“Don't worry about that, Luxury. I'm getting around just fine.”
“Jonah Aaron Whitson, do you hear me?” I begin to reprimand.
“Child, don't start with me. I said—”
“Okay, have it your way. I'm coming home,” I cut in.
“No,” he says all too quickly. “Luxury, you call me every morning and every night. Isn’t that enough?”
“Don’t you miss me?” I pout as ducks frolic over the mossy grass.
“How’s Victor treating you?”
“This isn't about Vic and me. It’s about you.” You ornery old man.
“If he’s not treating you well, then I'll be on the first plane over to straighten him out.”
I almost smile. It would be a sight, my tiny dad trying to fight Victor. “Oh, Dad, stop that, and I know what you're doing.”
“What is that?”
“Sneaking around my questions. Mr. Genius, how about this? You’re very, very intelligent, but one thing that you sorely lack is social skills. Let me speak to the nurse.”
“Well, uh, she's cooking.”
Something in me feels unsettled. What is my dad up to?
22
Victor
Luxury ambles around our picnic site, and I pull out marmalade for the crackers while listening to a conversation that’s sending up red flags. I haven’t had a chance to visit the good old doctor Whitson. For a few weeks, I’ve been keeping Luxury under my thumb, making sure mother doesn’t try to corner her. Madeline’s childhood home, where she is staying, is a short distance away too. And most importantly, there’s showing Luxury a good time while she’s away from New York.
After she gets off the phone, Luxury reclines next to me on the blanket. Grabbing a plum, I place it at Luxury’s thick, pink lips, and she bites down. The syrupy liquid runs down her chin. After I lap it up with my tongue, Lux’s mouth opens like a budding flower. I groan, deepening the kiss. Her sweet little mouth tastes just as sweet as the plum.
“Vic, stop.” Luxury pulls away, looking around. I smile, knowing she isn’t comfortable having sex outside. Shaking my head, I sit up, pulling her with me.
We start on the charcuterie board when I notice I haven’t opened the wine. I look back in the wicker basket. There are no utensils to spread the marmalade and eat the salad, either.
“Let's take a walk back.” I begin to stand.
She gives a playful grumble. “But it took us forever to get here.”
I nod. We had walked at least three kilometers. “We won’t have anything to drink or eat with. Unless you want to eat like barbarians? And have no wine.”
She picks up her mother’s diary. “Damn, I hoped for a glass of Merlot. Do you mind if I stay here and read? Your legs are longer than mine.”
“Sure, I’ll return within the hour.” I rub the back of my neck. I had the fucking utensils . . . didn’t I? “Will you be okay if I leave you here for a while?”
“I’m not a baby.”
“That's your favorite line.” I start walking backward; it’s hard to take my eyes off the beautiful young woman.
As soon as I'm out of earshot, I pull out my cell phone and dial Brick, one of the ex-Navy SEALs, for a debriefing on Whitson’s current circumstances.
“The old man is safe. Very easy. Stays home. He fired the nurse, and he seems to want to be cooped up in his bedroom all the time.”
“No signs of Everhart?”
“Not a whisper.”
After hanging up, I run my hands over my face, dialing Monica. Bypassing a greeting, I ask, “Any updates on Dr. Charles Everhart?”
“Not entirely. Paul followed his relationship with Jonah since they were in undergrad all the way to Whitson pioneering an updated model of the pacemaker. Vic, they were an unlikely pair. Almost more in competition but always associates. I don't see any sort of rift that would cause Charles to want to murder Gina, let alone put a hit out on Jonah.”
“Work harder.”
“We will.”
“Tell Paul and the others I pay them with their capabilities in mind. Shall I readjust everyone’s compensation to their current level of ability—including you?”
“Sir, Paul’s penetrated Everhart’s IP address a few times but—”
“Provide me concrete details or a bloody location for the wanka.”
We hang up. As I make it back to my childhood home, Burt is in the kitchen chatting with the fleet of kitchen staff.
Burt stops cutting up his apple. The staff hushes, oblivious of our lenient relationship. I do not give a bloody fuck about their gossip.
“We need to talk.” There goes the fatherly stance.
“You have at least a year’s worth of holiday that you haven’t taken over the years,” I retort, not at all interested in the influential chin-wagging. After Silas’s major cock-up in the parenting department, I try to forgo Burt’s efforts. A lot of it accumulated when Burt stayed behind to protect me when Silas and I returned from our hunting trips.