There’s yelling and arguing, there’s negotiation and discussion, and then there’s the verbal weapons of mass destruction my father and Eddie unleash on me. To be fair, I do the same to them. Everyone else listens as we bicker with sharp barbs, bringing up everything from childhood wrongs to business mismanagement.
Mum’s head initially ping-pongs as she tries to soothe the anger flowing like lava between her menfolk, but eventually, she wilts under the weight of so much hostility and her head falls, her eyes locked on the napkin in her lap.
Nan and Lizzie seem shocked at first, but their delight at someone finally standing up to Father is a buoying lift that keeps me going. They have had to keep their mouths shut for far too long in the name of manners and power dynamics, and if I’m the one to take him on, then so be it.
He has no hold on me. Not anymore. I have finally outgrown him. I don’t need to prove myself to him. I don’t need to impress him. Perhaps I thought I did when I began this journey and wanted to throw my success in his face as revenge, but listening to him rant brings home one lesson loud and clear. He is as weak as his power over me is. My desire for his approval, his affection, his love is naught but the past.
There is power in the freedom.
Mid-bluster, Father’s vein bulging dangerously, I simply get up. Elle startles, probably thinking I’m going to amp this up to a more physical altercation, but I pull her chair out. Helping her up, I take her hand and walk to the doorway.
“This is pointless. You can’t stop this from happening. This is a mere formality, a nicety because we are family. You’ve made it quite clear that you don’t consider me family, however, so perhaps we will continue this as professionals only. I’ll be in touch.”
I don’t let him respond, walking out before he can have the last word. But from behind me, I hear Eddie whining. “Father, you said it would be mine. What is going on? Do something.”
A victorious smile takes my face. I might not need Father’s approval, but it sure does feel good to throw a wrench in their plans, their very existence.
Alfred escorts us out, opening the front door for us. “Oliver has been well cared for while waiting for you, Master Colton.” Lower, he whispers. “You do know how to rouse a ruckus, don’t you, sir?” His pride and glee are a resounding job-well-done, and it feels more important than my father’s.
Right as we step outside, Lizzie runs up. “Coltie! Fuckin’ hell, you handed Father his arse! Bloody brilliant.” Thankfully, the front door is far enough away from the parlor that no one besides us can hear her. No one would care about her course language, but the sentiment would be considered near-blasphemy. And Lizzie is still a child, still subjected to Father’s whims and whimsies, unfortunately.
I take her hands. “Lizzie, watch yourself. It’s one thing for me to piss Father off, quite another for you. Please just keep calm and carry on. I’ll be in touch soon.” I kiss her forehead, and she nods, giddy excitement still shining bright in her eyes. I hope she can keep it in check long enough for this to be handled with Father.
Oliver pulls down the long drive, and I can’t help but stare out the window into the coming darkness. Even without the light of day, I know the rolling green hills like the back of my hands, each scar and line a story. Of my boxing fights, of my ancestors’ fights for the land and for a living.
Elle breaks into my thoughts as she addresses our driver. “Oliver, you’re about to hear things that you’re not gonna hear. You feel me? Like some driver-passenger confidentiality thing, ’kay?”
His eyes meet mine in the mirror as he answers Elle. “Yes, ma’am.”
She’s not done. “And I’m about to basically go bat-shit crazy. I don’t want you to judge all Americans by what I’m about to do. Understand?”
“Bat. Shit. Crazy?” he mouths, confusion written in his knitted brows. But he holds the car steady, joining traffic with experienced ease.
“I’ve found that Americans have a fondness for idioms based on animals. Just say yes. It’s safer for you that way.” I try to reassure him with a smile, but his quiet ‘yes’ is more question than affirmation.
“Good. We understand each other.” Elle’s summarization couldn’t be less true. Oliver has no idea what she’s talking about. But I do.
I try to prepare myself for a verbal battle that feels more important than the one I just had with my father. I’m not ready when she smacks my arm over and over, two-handed catfight style with her hair flipping back and forth as she flails.
“What the fuck was that, Wolfe? You’re such a bloody bastard! I could smack the ever-loving shit out of you right now! You’ve got some explaining to do, mister, so get to it before I . . . ugh!”
Her voice has gone on a journey from screech to hysterical high-pitch squeal and back down to a growly snarl as she pushes at my chest. With the seat behind me, I don’t move in the slightest, which seems to piss her off even more.
The whole production is hilarious and makes me want to smile. Wisely, I purse my lips and don’t do so.
“I’m sorry, Elle.” An apology seems like the best place to start, but she amps right back up.
“You should be!” She’s smacking me again. This time, I gather her hands in mine and kiss her.
She fights it for one long heartbeat and then she kisses me back, hard and fierce. It’s not passionate. It’s punishment. “You scared the shit out of me, Wolfe.”
“Why are you calling me ‘Wolfe’?” I ask, my lips still pressed against hers.
She smacks me once more, with her lips, not her hands, and answers with a smile. “I don’t know, because I’m mad at you, I guess.” But she seems less so than a moment ago.
“You said ‘bloody’. I think I’m rubbing off on you a bit.” A dangerous observation, but it goes over well with her smile growing slightly. “You ready to hear it now? Or do you need to smack me a bit more?”
She sits back, crossing her arms over chest as she orders, “Let’s hear it.”
“Ages ago, my family invested very heavily in land and got right jammy when they got a contract to supply the Army and Navy with rations. In fact, later on, our bully beef and condensed milk were the Tommies’ favorite rations in the trenches, compared to the Maconochie.”
“The what . . . never mind. I take it the basic gist is that your family got richer?” She rolls her hand at the wrist, telling me to get on with it.
“Yes . . . the Depression put a crimp in that, but come World War II, we were right back making rations for our boys and the Yanks, too. The Estate has an airfield nearby, and during the war, it was a base for American planes and their escorts. The whole time they were in England, they enjoyed our family’s products. And we just kept growing from there . . . bigger and bigger.”
“And you gave it all up?” Elle asks suspiciously. “Why?”
“I figured that would be obvious to you, of all people. Your father could hand you a position easily, same as I could take up an executive level position in our family offices. Father and Eddie have certainly chosen that path, and it’s done them no favors. They squander their days playing at being businessmen, all the while mismanaging trusts, wasting money on sports teams they know nothing about, and throwing about their perceived power like gormless twats.”
My distaste for their lifestyles is bitter on my tongue. “I want to earn it myself. Otherwise, it’s meaningless.”
Elle swallows thickly. “Well, shit, I had a good temper tantrum worked up here and you just squashed it by being all . . .” She waves her hands around at me, luckily at the air and not making contact this time. “Good and upstanding.” She sounds almost . . . disappointed?
I’m so confused. “I’m . . . sorry?” Apology seems the safest again, even though it didn’t quite work before.
“It’s fine,” she huffs, rolling her eyes in a move that reminds me of Lizzie. “Tell me the rest . . . the HQ2 part.”
“It struck me as soon as I heard about the proposal race,” I admit.
She interrupts with a hiss of accusation. “So you’ve known all along and didn’t say a word?” I nod slowly and she sneers in victory. “Just wanted to make sure you knew I’d caught that. Continue.”
I let her get away with the catty snark. It’s warranted, given all I’ve thrown at her in the last day. Especially since I suspect this conversation, while about work, is with Elle, my girlfriend. Not Elle, my assistant.
“The Estate’s mostly empty, bordered on one side by a large road that leads to the parkway, is less than five miles from a small airport that would be excellent service for shipping, and is close to the trains as well. I know the property like the back of my hand. It has everything HQ2 needs. And I do believe in the rest of it. I think we need an HQ2 overseas to grow.”
“But how . . . Jesus, Colton, there’s so many hoops to jump through on this, just on the corporate side,” Elle says.
And there’s my smart assistant.
“We need to get back to the hotel and call Gary and Debra to fill them in. Especially Gary. You need to fill him in on the family trust angle so he can research the legality of that and give you some advice there. Even if it’s off the record for you and not for Fox.”
I know she’s right, but I’ve kept this side of my life—my family—a secret from the people at Fox for so long. They all know I come from wealth. That privileged upbringing is impossible to hide, but the degree of pedigree is another thing altogether. One I won’t be able to keep secret anymore. Not if I’m going to make this work for the HQ2 site, and I have every intention of doing so.
“Agreed. Think I can dare him to maintain secrecy as well?” It’s wishful thinking at best. Gary is discreet, for certain, but this will be gossip around the water coolers on every floor of Fox within hours. “I might need to discuss this with Allan first so he’s not blindsided.”
Elle gapes at me. “Mr. Fox doesn’t know either?” At my cringe, she shakes her head, nearly whopping me with her hair again. “Stupid man. Stupid, sexy, smart man.”
I don’t dare mention that two of her descriptors are the literal opposites of one another. I just let her look at me critically, knowing I deserve it. And also knowing that she’s already on my side. That alone feels like a win. Or at least the beginning of one.
“What about your family? Business aside, or maybe in addition to, what’s the deal? Because that was harsh. And I say that as someone who knows helicopter, overinvolved, overprotective, high-expectation parents.”
I chuckle at her description of Daniel. With a fresh dose of my family, he’s not seeming nearly so bad to either of us, I’d wager.
“You saw the basics. Father’s an ass who favors Eddie regardless of what he does. Or more likely, doesn’t do, because he flits about with no destination. He’s an oxygen thief that lives on a trust fund. He’s the reason I took up boxing as a boy.”
So many memories assault me at once, the physical pain echoing fresh, and out of habit, I clench my jaw in preparation for the punch landing.
Elle sees it and lays a comforting hand on my thigh. “Out with it. I said I’ll keep your secrets and I will. But I think you need to get this out. For work, for us, but mostly, just for you. Think of it like ripping a Band-Aid off. Spill it all at once, scream at the loss of skin, and then you can scab it over.”
Gross imagery, but perhaps she’s right. I’ve buried this down for too long. And though this thing with Elle is still rather new, I know that deep down, I can trust her. I would’ve laughed at that idea weeks ago, and in fact, I did think she was wholly untrustworthy and Daniel’s spy. But even just her behavior today has alleviated so much of my doubt—what little bit that had remained after our dates, our intimacy on the plane, our time together.
And so I do something I swore I never would. I tell her everything.
“He and his mates would bully me, hitting and kicking me once I was down. They nicked any money I carried and often my books, too. I’d come home a mess, and Mum would demand to know what happened, but when I’d say it was Eddie, Father would step in. He claimed I was telling porkies or that I had started it and was sour that I’d been bested. And Mum chose to believe him over me, standing right there in front of her with bruises and scrapes and even split lips. It went on like that until I got bigger and started standing up for myself. Took out a couple of Eddie’s cronies, and then I started training. It wasn’t until I started beating up Eddie that Father had any real concern with us. I busted Eddie’s nose once.”
I look to Elle, gauging her reaction. I expect her to be horrified at the violence, both Eddie’s and mine. She looks to be on the verge of fuming actual smoke out of her ears, though.
“I’m going to bust his nose again. Oliver, turn the fucking car around.”
I love that she wants to defend me. It’s somehow sweet and sexy at the same time, putting tiny stitches over wounds from long ago. I shake my head at Oliver’s questioning eyes, though.
“It’s fine, it was a long time ago.” Elle snorts, her head working a circle around on top of her neck. It’s the most attitude I’ve seen from her, and she’s already shown quite a bit. But she falls back into my story as I keep talking. “Nan always had my back. She’s the one who put me in boxing, and I know she watches out for Lizzie too. Nan’s a spitfire, even now. Though it’s getting harder for her to get around, she’s still as sharp as a tack.”
“She’s something else, that’s for sure. Your whole family is . . . wow.”
The dry delivery says it all. They are . . . something else.
“Yes, Gary. The property is in trust, and while I’ve had my first meeting with the family, I’d like to know the actual language of the trust. I want specifics on their power over the land. I don’t want any surprises.”
His follow-up questions are spot-on and professional, not giving any inkling that he’s brimming with the gossip I just shared with him. I have to hope that’s a good sign, but I cross my fingers anyway.
“Mr. Fox is aware of the progression of the situation and on board with our next steps. I’ll be in touch tomorrow for the latest update.”
I hang up the phone, glad for the time difference that will let Gary start his day with an outlined mission of teasing out every detail of the trust. Hopefully, he finds me some good news.
“All set?” Elle asks, coming out of her bedroom in a fluffy robe with wet hair.
She’s given me privacy while I made phone calls to Allan and then to Gary. Debra’s work plan hasn’t changed, so I was able to let her just continue on with her research. Allan had taken the news in stride, better than I’d expected, to be honest, even suggesting that he expected me to have ties to properties in London, whether direct or indirect, and that my proposed site was tied up in my family’s trust was no different than it being with any other seller. In fact, he’d alluded to it even being preferable because family can be easier to deal with than corporate giants who are selling off large plots of prime real estate. I didn’t correct him that he didn’t know my family.
“Yes. It’s done. It’ll be all over the office in moments, I’m sure.” I lean back on the couch, running my fingers through my hair. I’ve made the same movement at least a dozen times as I paced about.
“If it’s any consolation, Tiffany didn’t know anything. I talked to her before I got in the shower because if I didn’t give her the London update, she probably would’ve been on the next plane here to pull it out of me.”
I blink slowly, my jaw tightening of its own accord.
“You can stop that question before it even makes it to air, Colton Wolfe. I didn’t tell her anything other than how beautiful London is, how amazing the hotel is, and that I joined the mile-high club. That part didn’t seem confidential. She said Dad is in Tennessee, but I didn’t want any more info than that because it didn’t seem right. Oh, and Sophie almost killed her sleeping on her chest. Apparently, my cat’s a slut and will straddle anybody who lies down in my bed.”
“Thank you for not saying anything else.” It’s all I can offer because I did have that split second of doubt. Not in Elle, per se, but just in people in general. I’ve found them to be backhanded and selfish far too often, and distrust is my gut instinct.
She comes over and sits beside me on the couch, her legs curled underneath her. “Of course I didn’t say anything. I said I wouldn’t and I didn’t.”
The reassurance shouldn’t be necessary, but it soothes me, anyway. Elle weaves her fingers into my hair, pulling me to her, and I go happily, my cheek resting on her breast.
“Today sucked ass.” The declaration makes me chuckle, and I nod. “What do you need? A hot bath, a strong drink, a long nap, a good fuck? What do you need to feel better, to wash all that suckage away?”
She’s a fucking angel. It’s the only explanation for a woman who would go through what we went through today, right at my side while I went to battle against my own father, and then offer kindness.
I nuzzle her breast, knowing the truth. “Fuck, Elle.” It’s both answer and exclamation, and she takes it as both.
“You wanna fuck me hard and rough? Get out all that aggression with a good pounding? Or do you want to lie back and let me fuck you? I can drain all that tension out and you won’t even have to move.”
“Fuckin’ hell, the way you talk to me. I love it.” I pull her into my lap, her knees on either side of my hips. Her robe falls open, revealing that she’s nude underneath, and I can’t help but grind up against her.
I cup her tits, squeezing them too hard, but she arches into my touch anyway, so I reward her with my tongue, tracing a circle around her nipple before pulling it into my mouth. Her cry is sharp, her nails sharper as she holds my head to her, demanding more.
I surge upward, standing, and she wraps her legs around me. I carry her to my bedroom, the only one we’ll be using tonight. The only one we’ll be using for the whole trip.
I let her slide down my body and lick the sweet curve of the shell of her ear. “I want to shove you face down on the bed, fuck you raw from behind until you think you can’t take it anymore, and then I want to feel your velvet walls grip me tight as I come inside you.”
“Okay.” Elle’s breathy and easy agreement sends all my blood south, and my already-hard cock turns to steel. She drops her robe and spins, climbing onto the bed. The image of her crawling on her knees, her ass and already wet pussy on display for me, is the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.
I rip my clothes off, giving zero fucks to where they land as I throw them. I have the good graces to trace my hands up her legs, from her ankles to the backs of her thighs, before spreading her ass, but that’s all the foreplay I can muster as I push her flat to the bed and straddle her.
I grip her hair gently, turning her to me, but it’s not for a kiss. “I dare you . . . to take all of me, Elle.” I hope it’s enough of a challenge before I unleash on her. I hope she understands it won’t always be like this, but after today, I need this, need inside her too badly.
“Just fuck me already, Colton.”
Fuckin’ ball buster, she is. I love it.
I slam inside her, bottoming out in one stroke. I feel her thighs clench together, trying to keep me from riding her so deep, but I spread her ass further and slip in again. I watch my cock disappear into her pussy, coming out shining with her honey.
My hands wrap around her waist, pinning her to the bed, and I fuck her. Hard and rough, deep and powerful, I thrust into her again and again. Her cries of pleasure urge me on, though I’m so lost to my own pleasure that I’m barely giving any thought to hers.
Right selfish bastard, but I can’t do anything else but ride her.
Her walls clamp down on me, that tell-tale sign that she’s close to coming even if I haven’t touched her clit, haven’t stroked her G-spot.
“Come, Elle. I need you to come. Please.” I’m an utter arse, but some small part of me knows that if she comes, it’ll make my rough treatment of her less damning.
She moans low and loud, almost as animalistic as my own grunts, and then groans, “Now.”
The first few quivers of her pussy around my cock are all it takes. Bright white heat jolts down my spine, and I come hard, filling her with rope after rope of cum. She pulses around me, our bodies and our voices in symphony together.
As it ends, I collapse over her, keeping the bulk of my weight off her but needing to explain. To apologize. To say something.
“Next time, I’ll take my time with you, worship every inch of your skin with my tongue, my fingers. Whatever you want.”
She’s boneless and still panting. “I fucking want more of whatever we just did.”
Surprised, I sit up, angling to see the blissed-out smile on her face. I just rutted into her like a beast and she’s raring for another go.
“You’re . . . wow.” I know that she described my family the same way earlier, but I think she’s the truly spectacular one here.
“And then we can do the soft and slow worshiping thing. Just give me ten minutes and one of those ten-dollar water bottles and I’ll be ready to roll.”
Though some might disagree, I’m not a stupid man. I get up and get the lady a water bottle and don’t mention that they’re fifteen dollars.
