Sins of My Father (Black Brothers #1) (4 page)

CHAPTER FIVE

Langley

“Thomas would like a moment of your time in his office before we leave.” My mom opened the door to the home she had shared with my stepdad for the last ten years.

Though petite, only five foot three and one hundred pounds, she was a force of her own. She landed a world-renowned actor in her twenties and a distinguished senator in her thirties, and over the years, more than one person had been reduced to tears by the strength of her icy words and frozen glare.

I tapped the strings of my covered tennis racket against my leg and then twirled it between my hands. Today was our weekly tennis match.

Saying my mom and I didn’t have anything in common was an understatement. For starters, tennis wasn’t my thing, but she loved it. Don’t get me wrong. I loved to exercise. Five days a week, I exercised every morning at the physical therapy office where I worked, but I hated tennis. My mom forced me to play as a child, which probably explained some of my distaste for the sport. She knew that, but for some reason she deemed it the perfect once a week mother-daughter activity, which suited me. Running back and forth while slamming a ball over the net made it difficult to have a meaningful conversation—something I avoided at all costs.

“I don’t have time today. I have to catch up on some paperwork at the office.” I cringed inwardly at the lie. I never worked on the weekends. We both knew it.

“He’s your dad. Show some respect.”

“Stepdad,” I corrected without any heat. This argument was so old, the lines so familiar that I should’ve taped our first conversation a decade ago and played it every time she brought up the subject. It would’ve saved us both a lot of time.

“He considers you his daughter. He offered to make it official, but you refused.”

I rolled my eyes. “Because I had a dad. I don’t need another one.” I had eavesdropped often enough to know that my stepdad only agreed to adopt me because my mom demanded it, and even then, he didn’t relent until three months before my eighteenth birthday. Besides, I wasn’t blind. He didn’t feel any fatherly affection for me, or at least nothing he expressed outwardly.

“He didn’t raise you…not like your stepdad.”

“Senator Wharton doesn’t have anything to do with the person I’ve become.” Just the thought of giving my stepdad credit for anything in my life made my chest ache with emptiness. Sure, the first year after they married, he showed up at my sports events and attended parent-teacher conferences, but by the time I graduated from high school, he stopped making any effort. He didn’t even attend my high school or college graduation.

My mom’s lips thinned and she dropped her chin, disguising her reaction, but I didn’t need to see it to sense her disappointment. It vibrated around us in heavy waves, beating at my chest, squeezing my ribcage until I couldn’t breathe. My mom didn’t trade barbs or yell. That would be beneath her. Silent, thick, guilt was her weapon of choice, and she wielded it like a knife, slicing away little pieces of her target until she got what she wanted. “I’m sorry we failed to meet your expectations as parents.”

I glanced at my watch to indicate my impatience. “Is he ready to see me?” I asked, ignoring her comment. I refused to take her bait.

She pushed her dark hair away from her face with two expertly manicured fingers. “I think so, but knock before you go in.”

Without another word, I wove through the stark white paneled hallway, treading with feather soft steps over the black and white checkered marble floor. Traditional black mullioned windows lined one side of the hallway, and polished nickel lanterns hung at even intervals from the barrel-vaulted ceiling.

At the end of the hall, I came face to face with espresso-stained double wood doors marking the entry into Senator Thomas Wharton’s private domain. I banged my knuckles against the heavy door twice, and then I lowered my hand to my side, curling the fingers around the hem of my black and gray tennis skirt. The sound bounced unnaturally off the walls. God, I hated this house. It reminded me of a museum rather than a home.

“Come in,” he said.

I cracked the door, eased my eyes around the corner, and peeked inside before crossing the threshold. Light and bright colorless walls ceded control to dark, heavy wood-paneled walls. A plush, diamond patterned sapphire-blue and saffron-colored rug covered all but the one foot perimeter of the dark hardwood floor. Two burgundy leather chairs sat in front of his oversized desk. Dark wood floor-to-ceiling shelves held thousands of leather bound books.

My stepdad never wanted a private audience with me in his study unless he intended to chastise my behavior, and as I crossed the room, dread seeped into chest. My hands were clammy, and my heart fluttered against my breastbone like a caged butterfly. Even at the age of twenty-four, I still had a hard time seeing him as a normal man who I could discuss things with on equal footing. I didn’t want him to hold this invisible power over me anymore. I needed to take control of my life, but it was easier said than done.

I ran fingers over the brass nail heads on the top of the burgundy leather chairs, silently counting each one of them. Counting calmed me.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four…

When I counted the last one on the back of the chair, I squared my shoulders and took a seat.

“My mom said you wanted to talk to me.” I crossed my ankles to stifle the budding urge to bounce my knee up and down like a child being reprimanded for bad behavior.

Senator Wharton leaned back in his chair. He was a tall, thin man with a head of dark hair that had begun to gray at the temples in the last two years. His eyes were dark and unreadable as usual. He was a politician, after all. Wasn’t that a prerequisite?

“You didn’t stay long last night.” It was a statement, not a question.

I dropped my eyes to my lap. “Two hours.” After all these years, the man still managed to intimidate me with a few words or a well-placed glare.

He fingered the edge of a stack of papers and newspaper articles on his desk. Unlike most people who read their news online, Senator Wharton still had his staff assemble a daily briefing summarizing the news they thought worthy of his attention.

He cocked his head to the side and steepled his fingers in front of his chest like a man accustomed to getting his way, and Senator Wharton was accustomed to getting his way on and off the senate floor. “Did you talk to anyone new?”

Sensing the trap closing in around me, my eyes flitted around the room before landing once again on Senator Wharton. “Well, I…” I cleared my throat, composing my thoughts. Clearly, he wanted to discuss Archer, but I didn’t understand why or how he got wind of our encounter. I decided to offer a vague answer until I understood his angle. “I met a few new people.”

Senator Wharton rested his elbows on the edge of his desk, and his lips thinned into firm, hard lines. Just like that, the battle lines were drawn. “Hm…interesting. I thought you were acquainted with just about everyone there. I’ll have to be more diligent about introducing you to everyone next time. With the official launch of my presidency in two weeks, you to need study the talking points and memorize faces and names.”

Two weeks. That was news to me. I took a deep breath. “Sure. That’s probably a good idea,” I said, even though I would rather stick a hot poker in my eye than contribute time to his campaign.

He took a sip of the amber liquid in diamond patterned cut crystal glass. “What about Archer Black? Was he one of the people you met?”

Like a finger tracing the individual bumps of my spine, a slow shiver traveled through me. “I think so,” I answered, my voice as detached as I could make it.

“How long have you known him?” Tension creased his forehead into thick ribbons.

“We already covered this. He’s one of the people I met last night.”

Senator Wharton slid a newspaper article across his desk. “Can you explain this?”

I kept my eyes locked on his. We were like two dueling adversaries awaiting the signal to fire at will. I wanted him to know I wouldn’t meekly bend to his will.

After an exhaustive beat, he nodded his head and I canted forward, slowly lowering my gaze to the article. A picture of Archer and me leaving the fundraiser last night covered the top quarter of the paper. His hand cradled my lower back as we gazed fondly at each other. The image painted a picture of intimacy that hadn’t existed in real life, or at least not at that moment. When he dropped me off at my house later that night, it was a different story. At least the photographers didn’t make the effort to follow me home.

I shrugged and leaned back in the chair. “We shared a taxi to The Lux. He met his date, and I met Winnie.”

His eyes narrowed and he pushed his chair back. “That’s it? There’s nothing else you want to add?”

“That’s it.”

“And you don’t have plans to see him again?”

My eyes darted to the side, taking in the scenic flowers outside the bay window of his office. I rubbed my arms as though I were cold. “I don’t get why you’re interested in Archer Black or my connection to him.”

Senator Wharton drummed his fingers on the table, the cadence echoing unnaturally through the room. “Archer Black has a rather unsavory reputation. I don’t want you to associate with him, especially during my campaign.”

My back tensed and my hands white-knuckled the arms of the chair as a sudden burst of anger surged through me. “I’m well past the age when you can tell me who I can and can’t talk to. Besides, he’s not so unsavory that you’d refuse to take his money. Wasn’t that why you invited him to your fundraiser?”

“I’m not taking his money.”

“Because he didn’t offer it.”

Senator Wharton sighed. “You’re associated with me, and anything you do affects my image. This is an important year for me. As I said, I’m going to announce my intention to run for president in two weeks or so.”

I popped out of my chair like a jack in the box. “And anything you do affects me, but I haven’t forced you to stop.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Uncomfortable silence stretched between us, the tension in the room so weighty I thought my knees would buckle under his glare. “I don’t know. Nothing.” I couldn’t tell him anything. I made my decision six months ago. I couldn’t change course now.

“Fine.” He folded the newspaper article into fourths. “Your mother is probably waiting for you.”

I stood up and walked toward the door without another word. How old did I have to be before Senator Wharton stopped trying to control me?

As my hand circled the polished nickel door lever, Senator Wharton dropped his hand on my shoulder. He flashed a phony smile, complete with his signature dimple. “Please stay away from Archer Black. I don’t want you to get hurt. Even though I never adopted you, you’re still like a daughter to me. I love you, Langley. I only want what’s best for you and our family, and Archer Black is not it.”

I stepped out of his grasp. “Thanks for your concern,” I answered instead of promising anything. I hated empty promises and half-truths. I would play along for the sake of his campaign, but I wouldn’t let my stepdad dictate my personal relationships. I had every intention of seeing Archer again. Since he had left me on my doorstep Friday night, his dark hair and even darker eyes kept drifting to the forefront of my mind. My stomach fluttered like it was filled with Pop Rocks every time I thought of him. I hadn’t been really interested in or tempted by a man in a long time. For that reason alone, I wanted to see him one more time, even if he was a complication I couldn’t afford right now.

CHAPTER SIX

Archer

At exactly twelve in the afternoon on Sunday, I knocked on Langley’s door with a bouquet of her favorite flowers—pink peonies—in hand. I planned to take her to her favorite restaurant for her favorite food. Without asking, I knew all this and more about Langley.

The last three months of my life, I had poured over the details of her life, committing every preference and detail to memory. I knew where she lived long before I escorted her home two days ago. Senator Wharton owned her townhome and rented it to her for twenty percent below market value. She worked as a physical therapist, but she always wanted to pursue an acting career and follow in her dad’s footsteps. Unbeknownst to Langley, her mom sabotaged her chosen profession by turning down roles and casting calls without her consent.

Red was her favorite color. She dated Brandon for six months. She had four serious boyfriends since she turned eighteen. Her mother introduced her to each and every one of those men, except one. When she turned thirty, she would gain control of the trust created by her deceased father. Her mother had skimmed around a million dollars from Langley’s trust in the two years before she married Senator Wharton.

I had a whole file cabinet filled with miscellaneous details about Langley’s life. Nothing was too small. After all, I needed every piece of information I could get to accomplish my goal, but I overlooked one thing. A big fucking wildcard in the dangerous game I started last night—we had chemistry. Too much chemistry. There were hundreds of reasons why I shouldn’t be interested in Langley, but the minute I met her, none of them mattered. If I were smart, I’d ignore the tension crackling like lightning between us, but I couldn’t. It was too overpowering.

“Hi,” Langley said when she flung open the door less than a minute later. She wore black slim-fitting pants and a creamy sweater that highlighted her sun-kissed hair, making it look like a halo.

“Hi.” I held out the bouquet of flowers.

“I love peonies,” she said, taking them out of my hand and holding them to her nose. “Did someone tell you?”

“Just a lucky guess,” I lied.

“Come in.” She waved me into her townhome.

“This place is nice.” I took in the large windows, the newly refinished hardwood floors, and the gleaming white kitchen cabinets.

“Thanks. I couldn’t afford it if my stepdad didn’t lower the rent, but I’m going to buy it from him in a couple months if he agrees.”

“I didn’t think a physical therapist made that much money.” The purchase price of a townhome like this in Georgetown easily exceeded one million dollars. I’m sure she planned to buy it with the funds from her trust, but I wasn’t supposed to know anything about it. Not many people did.

She filled a white bone china vase with water. “How did you know I’m a physical therapist? I don’t remember mentioning it.”

“I did my research.”

Her brows furrowed. “You Googled me?”

“Didn’t you Google me?” I said, deflecting her question because I did a whole lot more than Google her. I investigated every part of her life I could feasibly get my hands on. Her school records. Her family history. Her medical history. Her friends. Nothing was too small.

A smile danced on her lips as she fiddled with the flowers. “I might have.”

“And what did you decide?”

I wasn’t worried. I kept a tight leash on the details of my private life. Only information I approved and leaked to the press could be found in an internet search, and I never dated without signing a nondisclosure agreement. I preferred it that way. Other than the carefully crafted narrative of my childhood and pictures of me at benefit dinners with dates, not much information was available.

“That you either have a great publicist who controls your information with an iron fist or that you live a relatively uneventful life.”

I chuckled. “Both are true. I don’t like my private affairs spilled on the pages of magazines or internet websites. A clean image is imperative when you own a large financial firm that manages billions of dollars.” All of that was true, but I also had a dirty, soul-shattering childhood I wanted to keep private.

“Then you probably didn’t appreciate the picture of us that made it into the Saturday morning paper.”

“I didn’t mind.” The photographs were there because I wanted them there. I wanted Senator Wharton to see us together. It was just the beginning of what I had planned to draw Senator Wharton out of his comfort zone.

She rubbed her hands along the sides of her pants. “I can’t say I agree.”

“What do you mean?”

“My stepdad made it clear he didn’t want me involved with you.”

Perfect. I raised one eyebrow. “Is that your way of canceling our date?”

“No,” she said quickly, raising her hands in front of her, and then she laughed, a slightly rusty sound that pierced straight through my heart. “I think I’m old enough to decide who I want in my life.”

“Then we’re still on for lunch?”

“As long as you’re not offended by the fact my stepdad disapproves of you.” Her cat-like greenish eyes were still strained, but she seemed less guarded than when she answered the door five minutes ago.

I paused, hands buried in my pockets. Then, I moved forward, wrapping my arms around her waist and pinning her against her kitchen counter. Her muscles tightened under my fingertips, but within seconds she relaxed, her body melting against mine.

When she lifted her head, I didn’t waste any time. My lips covered hers. She didn’t push me away. Not even close. She let out a soft moan, but I didn’t want to spook her, so I continued kissing her softly without rushing this thing between us. My tongue slid slowly around hers, testing her reaction, evaluating every welcoming stroke and delicious curl.

Her heart hammered against my chest, and my body vibrated with desire. Her kiss tasted better than I had imagined, not that I’d spent much time thinking about kissing her since Friday night. No, that’s a lie. The minute I met her in person two nights ago, I wanted to kiss her and a whole lot more. But fuck, I needed to temper my reaction to her. Langley and I had a pre-determined expiration date, one that would be accompanied by fireworks of the disastrous sort.

I stepped back, needing space, needing walls between us, because walls were all there ever could be. “Are you ready to go?”

Langley sucked in a breath, her eyes studying me, searching me, but she wouldn’t see anything except the charming veneer I showed everyone. I mastered the look before my tenth birthday.

No one knew me the real me, except Knox and my mom, and she died six months ago in an apparent suicide. A neighbor found her dead on the floor of our dirty trailer, a gun in one hand and half her head missing.

My family lived waist-deep in the same dirty secrets in the same dirty world. They’d been woven into the fabric of our very existence, coloring every choice and every relationship, new and old. My mom promised Senator Wharton she’d keep those secrets, and she did. She took them to her grave, but she made those promises, not me. Once she died, I considered her debts satisfied. Now, I could do whatever I wanted with the information.

“Where are we going?” she asked, running her fingertip over her swollen lips.

“The Edge.”

“Ugh,” she groaned. “I hate that place.”

“What?” My eyebrows snapped together.

“No.” She laughed. “But you must be a mind reader, or the information you found about me online was far more revealing than I’d like. First the peonies and now The Edge.”

“I aim to please.”

“Well, I hate to admit it, but you’re doing a good job so far.”

I threaded my fingers through hers. Damn, this might be easier than I’d thought.

***

She stared forlornly at her nearly empty dessert plate, only a swirl of chocolate and raspberry sauce remained. Unquestionably, The Edge was Langley’s favorite restaurant.

“Do you want anything else?” I asked. “Are you still hungry?”

She laughed. “You’re making fun of me.”

“No.” I shook my head. “I’m glad you enjoyed your meal.”

She placed her silverware diagonally across her plate and pushed it to the center of the table. “Ugh. I’m so full. I feel like I’m going to explode. I’ll have to exercise twice as long tomorrow morning to make up for this lunch.”

“Do you exercise every day?”

“I’m a physical therapist,” she answered, as though that’s all she needed to say.

“So?” I prompted, prying her for more information even though both my reports and her long, lean muscles already answered my question.

“I work in a gym of sorts, so I end up doing some exercise every day at work, and my mom and I have a standing tennis date on Saturday mornings.”

“Are you and your mom close?” My research suggested they weren’t, but that might not be Langley’s perception of their relationship.

She chewed on her lip, clearly contemplating her answer. “Growing up, my dad was larger than life. I idolized him. For the first ten years of my life, I was his shadow. When he died, it was just my mom and me for a couple of years. I love her. She’s my mom, but we never really clicked. I don’t understand her, and she doesn’t understand me. What about your mom?”

“She was a single mom, so she wasn’t around a lot. It always seemed like it was my brother Knox and me against the world. We did everything together.”

She nodded. “You’re lucky. I wish I had a brother or a sister. When my mom remarried, I thought my stepdad would want kids, but it never happened. He focused on his career and my mom focused on reinventing herself. There wasn’t much room left for anything else.”

“Reinventing herself?” I asked, ignoring the topic of Senator Wharton and kids entirely.

“When she married Senator Wharton, she transformed from Hollywood wife to the doting wife of a politician. She replaced her flashy clothes with simple lined dresses and pantsuits. She spent her days volunteering for causes I don’t think she knew existed before her second marriage.” She frowned and shook her head.

“Did that trouble you?”

“It shouldn’t have, but at the time I felt like she wanted to erase the memory of my dad and the first ten years of our lives.”

I slanted forward, bracing my elbows on the edge of the table. “Now what do you think?”

“Maybe it was her way of dealing with the grief. For the most part, I went along with what she wanted, but I refused to let Senator Wharton adopt me.”

“Why?”

She twisted her hands in her lap. “Because I had a dad. I didn’t need another one. Besides, he was barely around, so it felt forced. I don’t think he really wanted to adopt me. Contrary to what is reported in the media, we’re not close,” she confessed.

I nodded, not saying anything for a few prolonged seconds. Truth be told, I was shocked. My files were littered with articles of how Senator Wharton embraced his role of parent to Langley. “I didn’t realize.”

“Nobody knows that, except for Winnie.” She laughed. “She’s the keeper of all my secrets. I don’t know what I’d do without her.”

“I’ll have to keep that in mind,” I answered with a grin.

“You’ll never get anything out of her. We took a blood covenant as kids. I’ve sworn her to secrecy.”

I raised my eyebrows. “Now I’m really curious about all these secrets that necessitate a blood covenant.”

“They’re serious.” She nodded, her eyes wide in mock innocence.

I winked. “Can you give me a hint?”

She gazed at her lap for a second and then exhaled loudly. “Okay, but you have to promise never to tell.”

I held up one hand. “I promise.”

“I cheated on my fifth grade spelling test. I wrote a word along the inside of my index finger.”

“What word?”

“Ubiquitous,” she whispered.

I burst out laughing. “With secrets like those, you definitely need a blood covenant.”

“Now that I’ve told you my darkest secret, you have to tell me one. An eye for an eye.”

“Eye for an eye?” I mocked, purposely changing the direction of the conversation. Unlike Langley, I had too many dark secrets.

“As long as we’re on the theme of blood covenants, I thought I’d throw in some more biblical references.” She shrugged. “Now stop procrastinating and share something.”

“Something?”

She rolled her eyes. “Anything.”

“Fine.” I tapped my fingers on the table as I considered my options. Notably, my thoughts kept circling back to the one secret I couldn’t share. Was that an indication of a guilty conscience? Because as I stared into her glowing green eyes and soaked in her supple smile, I felt a twinge of discomfort ripple down my spine.

When I decided to pull Langley into my plans, she was just a name on a piece of paper. With each passing second I spent with her, she showed me she was so much more. She was quickly getting under my skin, which wasn’t a good thing. I needed to figure out a way for her to trust me while keeping her at an arm’s length.