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I grip the phone tight at his sudden silence, sighing through my nose. “Lucas… I didn’t mean that.”
I hear the telling sound of his street bike roaring to life in the background. “Sure you did, Row. We all know what a fuck up I am. Nothing new there.”
“Luke,” I start, but he’s not having it.
“If you need me, I’ll be out setting the city ablaze and gathering a hoard of women to impregnate before taking them back to my secret compound. Might start a revolution with my new Mad Max family, who knows?”
“Fucking hell,” I mutter. “I said I was sorry.”
“See ya.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose when he cuts the call.
Is this how parents feel when their rebellious teen refuses to listen?
“Mr. Kendrick, Patricia Hawkins has arrived for your scheduled meeting,” Ms. Black says from the doorway. “If you’re ready, I’ll have Mr. Thorne bring her in.”
“Lovely,” I grumble, glancing around the study.
Much like the other unused rooms in the manor, this one isn’t in the best shape. The rugs are worn and the fireplace is missing several bricks. The curtains are drawn in the loft, shadowing the private reading space, and the light fixture could use a good polish.
The whole space is dull and lifeless. Like the old man just let this house wither away with him, and for some reason, I take that personally.
Probably because Mom would’ve hated seeing it left in this state. She was always one for cleanliness, and she took pride in making our house a home.
Patricia’s heels clip across the floor outside the study, warning me just before Reginald appears.
“Sir, your guest has arrived,” he says with a curt bow.
“Good morning, Patricia,” I greet her, curious what mood she’ll be in today.
She tuts while turning a circle, scanning the built-in shelves filled with priceless artifacts and rare tomes. “This was Thomas’s favorite spot in the manor. It’s a shame to see it’s been so neglected.”
Her tone is accusatory, and a sliver of anger breaks free before I can catch it. “No more neglected than the family he left behind.”
Fuck, what has gotten into me?
Nose up, she grips her leather folio tighter. “He’s trying to make amends, Rowan.”
I shake my head in disbelief. “Little late for that, don’t you think?”
“It doesn’t matter what either of us thinks, but I can assure you, you’re not the only one who’s made a promise they wish to uphold.”
She’s irritatingly tight-lipped after that, and it grates my every nerve.
Counting backward, I finally manage to slip a mask of composure into place. I’ve spent a handful of hours around Molly, and already, her blatant expressiveness is rubbing off on me.
“Speaking of the state of things around here, I’d like to hire some contractors to clean it up. Give the place a fresh look and replace some old appliances.”
I remain as casual as possible while Patricia sizes me up, walking closer to the desk, where she sets her things.
I’m shocked when she gives a single nod. “All right. You can make modifications on the condition that they’re approved by me first.”
“Thank you.”
She cocks a brow. “What else can I do for you, Mr. Kendrick?”
My hands slip inside my pockets, and I force a confident smile. “I’m engaged.”
