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“That is why you have to stay with Kalum for a little while.” She rubs her forehead. “I’ll help you with Lane Jr. if you need me. It will be no trouble. This is New York and there are times when it is not feasible for you to take Lane everywhere.”
I smile and I know she is being kind but I have a life in North Carolina. We have a home. All of our things and memories are there.
“I know, but we can’t stay here. This is not—” I look around once more to make sure Kalum is still in his office. “A place for Lane and me to stay. It is not a place for a child.”
“Did you tell him that?”
“I tried, but then you arrived, he sauntered off. I know Lane sent him but I’m still trying to figure out why. It doesn’t make sense.”
Camila gives me a soft smile. “Why don’t I watch Lane for a minute and you talk to Kalum and tell him how you feel.”
I glance down at Lane and see he is focusing on playing with his cars and decide to have a talk with Kalum. I trust Camila and have known her almost my whole life since my parents bought their house in Spencer. Camila was our neighbor, and she would watch me when my parents couldn’t. She would never let anything happen to Lane Jr.
I take a deep breath. “Okay. Where is his office?”
“Third door to your right.”
“Lane?”
He looks up. “I’ll be right back. I’m going to talk to Kalum and be right back. Don’t give Camila a hard time, alright?”
“Yes, Mommy.”
Chapter 3
Kalum
The way she looked when I walked into the boardroom at the lawyer’s office, where I was instructed to meet her by Lane’s lawyer, broke me. The way she tried to hold back the tears in front of everyone, so she could be strong for her son. Their son. When I looked at him up close, it was unmistakable. He looks just like his late father. They even have the same hair, face, and eyes. He looks at his mother like she is the center of everything. And she is.
Letting her go was the hardest thing I ever had to do in my life. To know that another man I respected and admired had everything. Because he had her.
I knew it deep down the day at the fair when he approached her, and she looked at him like he was her savior because he was. Lane was her savior when my parents practically tossed her out. I cried like a pussy for months and when I stopped crying, the hate replaced the hurt. Not for her or for Lane but the hatred for my parents. They took what I wanted most in the world and I lost it in the arms of another man. I’m not sure what his purpose was for me to watch over her and his son in the event of his death. I don’t understand it. It makes sense that she needs protection for a while against lawyers, family, and people in high places trying to take advantage of a woman that just lost her husband, and according to her, the love of her life. They know she is vulnerable and doesn’t have other family members to help her.
The way she talks about him makes my gut clench because deep down, I’d hoped when I was eighteen that it would’ve been me. That her son out there in my foyer would have been mine. She is still as beautiful as I can remember her and even more so. She is stunning. The fact that she is a mother draws more to her appeal. She must have looked beautiful pregnant.
A knock sounds from the door interrupting my thoughts and I look up. “Come in.”
I straighten in my chair when the door swings open, and she is standing in the doorway looking beautiful with her black dress molded in all the right places. The armed guards kept glancing her way admiring her beauty and I almost lost it. Even when she is crying, it doesn’t diminish how stunning she is. It brings out a protective instinct inside you and all you want to do is kill the bastard that caused it. My fist clenched and I made sure I followed directly behind her. Men will be like hound dogs in heat looking for a bone knowing she is vulnerable and wealthy.
Her husband made sure she was very wealthy. She would want for nothing and neither will his son. As I said, the man was hard to dislike when it came to Aura. He did everything right except make sure he stayed alive. Now, she is alone, heartbroken, and if I’m not mistaken, she looks lost.
“What is it?” I ask.
She stands in the doorway and makes no move to enter farther.
“We need to talk.”
I wave my hand to the modern leather chair. “Please have a seat.”
She nods and takes a seat but I notice she leaves the door open. It is either because her son is outside and she wants to make sure she hears him, or she doesn’t trust me.
Pulling up the security camera on my screen that gives me a direct view of Lane, I turn the screen toward her and her eyes widen, and then she glances at me.
“Close the door,” I demand.
She does as I ask and closes the door without protest and returns to sit in the chair across from my desk with her gaze locked on mine. I’m testing her and she knows it. She knows that I want to know if she is afraid of me. Afraid to be alone with me.
I remove my cuff links and roll up my sleeves on my dress shirt, and she watches me. I’m not doing it to intimidate her but I want her to see that I’m comfortable around her. That I don’t need to be businesslike around her or her son. My goal is for her to feel comfortable around me. She has gone through a lot already with the loss of her husband. The last thing she needs to worry about is her safety and being around someone that makes her or her son feel awkward.
