Reckless Promise: A Dark Mafia Romance Page 5

  “Mom, I want to ask you something.”

  “Ask away, dear.”

  “Why did you give Hugh your power of attorney?”

  She takes a deep breath and mulls that over as she squints down at the stout cacti and slowly waving leaves as a breeze kicks down through the yard. “You were gone and I was left with your father,” she says at barely a whisper. “What else was I going to do? Hugh has been kind to me, very kind. But I can’t seem to remember exactly how it happened anymore.”

  “He’s the head of the family now. Do you know that?”

  “I don’t want to talk about this.” She shakes my hand away, tensing all of a sudden. “All your father ever talked about was business. Years and years of business and it never got us anywhere. Hugh is doing the best he can. Your brother is trying his hardest.”

  “Cousin, Mom. Hugh is my cousin.”

  “Yes, of course, that’s what I said, your cousin.” She glares straight ahead and I can see the struggle happening internally as she tries to reconcile her mind with what I’m saying.

  I open my mouth to argue some more but slowly shut it again. This is worthless and cruel. Mom’s barely clinging on to the last vestiges of her memory and her self, and to push her about the business when all she wants to do is enjoy the gardens is a mean and selfish thing. It won’t achieve anything and it’ll only get her agitated.

  I can be a monster outside of this place. I’ve done things, horrible things, and I don’t regret a single one of them. But I draw the line at my mother.

  Maybe Hugh knows it. Maybe he did all this on purpose, knowing that I wouldn’t be willing to hound my mother to change her POA or to speak up for me in any way. And even if that’s the case, I still won’t do it, especially not if it’s only going to hurt her.

  We sit in quiet for a few minutes and I watch Tara work as mother hums to herself. It’s a tuneless sound and I don’t recognize the melody, but it seems to calm her down at least. Tara’s lean, gorgeous legs flex as she bends down to cut the plants, and I stare at her arms, her back, the glimpse of her breasts at a distance when she stoops down to gather the clippings. Mom seems happy, and I’m happy in a strange way, and I let us stay like that for a few minutes at least. I don’t know how many more moments like this I’ll get, and I want to cherish what I have.

  I should’ve come home a long time ago. I regret it now, sitting with my poor mother. I didn’t quite realize the extent of her decline because whenever she was having a bad day, Hugh wouldn’t let me speak to her. Now though, I can see the cracks at the edges and how far she’s gone, and I hate myself for staying away, but when my father was alive, this place was like a hell for me. The idea of coming back to it, for any reason at all, was akin to voluntarily throwing myself into fire.

  I couldn’t do it, but I wish I’d been stronger.

  “You know, Mom, I’ve been thinking. When was the last time you did a painting?”

  “Oh, I can’t remember, it’s been so long.”

  “Do you want to try? It doesn’t have to be much. I can bring you paper and watercolors and you can sit in bed.”

  “I don’t know, sweetie, maybe. I’ll think about it.”

  I nod a little and cross my legs, leaning forward on my elbows. “I’m glad you let Tara stay.”

  “She’s a good girl,” Mom says quietly. “A very good girl. I know how you feel about her.”

  “Mom.”

  “You always did like her, didn’t you? She was around a lot because—” She stops herself, frowning, and shakes her head. “You liked her.”

  “She was too young for me.”

  “Ah, she’s what, five years younger? That’s nothing, that’s how old—” She stops again, frowning deeper, and shifts in her chair. “Now why can’t I remember?”

  “Mom?”

  “Nothing, I was just saying, you always looked at Tara. Everyone knew it. I used to make bets with—” She grunts then, shaking her head. “God, there’s something—” She slams her hands down on the arms of the chair.

  “Mom,” I say, starting to rise. “Maybe that’s enough for today.”

  “No, no, it’s fine. I’m fine. I just want to know when Cait’s getting home.”

  I stare at her and feel my heart break. I don’t know what to say and Mom shakes her head, mumbling to herself, speaking nonsense about her husband and Hugh and the nurse, none of it making any sense. She finally turns to me, twisting in her chair, and her eyes seem far away as she looks into my face, reaching out slowly to touch my cheek.

  “Orin? When’s Cait getting home?” I pull away from her hand, suddenly vibrating with horror. “She’s been out too damn late. I think it’s that girl Tara. That bad one from the rotten family. She’s a bad influence, Orin, and you know it. When’s Cait getting home?” Mom rocks from side to side, teeth clenched, and I have to get up. I pace away, trembling, and call for Eunika.

  She comes quickly and helps calm Mom down enough to get her back inside. I trail after them, feeling like I’m dripping blood and gore as we go. Hearing my mother ask when Cait’s coming back and listening to her confuse me for my father is too much, too fucking much. Once Mom’s safely on the elevator, I turn and stride back outside, head pounding. Little cracks are forming all over me, and I feel like I might shatter and break and scream into the empty garden.

  I don’t know where I’m going. I head into the pathways, moving through the maze of cactus patches until I slow and come to a stop.

  Tara’s up ahead. I watch her work, breathing hard, trying to calm down, and from this close, I can see the way her face is screwed up in concentration like she’s entirely in the moment and each motion she makes is the precise right motion she intended. Only after she collects some clipping does she look up and notice me.

  “Kellen,” she says, starting slightly. “How long have you been watching me?”

  “A few minutes.” I cock my head and come forward. Some of my anger’s beginning to drain away. “Busy?”

  “Yes, I’m busy.” She chews her lip and squints at the sky. “It’ll be too hot to work out here soon.”

  “My mother likes you, you know.” I don’t know why I say it. I’m not even sure it’s true. What she said back there is bothering me: that bad one from the rotten family.

  How did Cait and Tara first meet? I can’t remember anymore.

  “I doubt that honestly. Your mother hasn’t been well for a while.”

  “She said so. I brought her out onto the porch and we were watching you.” I wave back at the house.

  Tara frowns at me for a long moment, shading her eyes. “That’s weird,” she says finally. “Not the part where you brought your mother outside, that’s actually very sweet. Just the part where you were watching me.”

  “You happened to be working in our line of sight. What should I have done, not looked?”

  “Preferably.”

  “Doesn’t matter. Mom likes you.”

  “I guess that means we have her blessing.”

  I laugh and it feels like something eases inside my chest. I didn’t realize how much tension I’d been carrying around until right this moment. Funny how Tara can make some of it ease, even when I’m wound so tightly I feel like I might break to pieces.

  “I wouldn’t go that far, but I take it you’ve been thinking about my proposal.”

  “Yeah, well—” She clips the hedge some more with ruthless, rough strokes, like she’s pretending it’s my neck. “It was the perfect proposal. What every girl wants. No ring, no romance. Just a business arrangement.” She looks at me, glaring hard. “I still haven’t decided.”

  “You need to figure it out soon. I don’t know how long Mom’s—” I stop myself, glancing back at the house, and the silence feel heavy.

  “Was she bad today?” Tara asks softly.

  I look back and shake my head. “Not at first.”

  “Sometimes I hear she’s pretty lucid. Other times—” She shrugs slightly.

  “She thought I was my dad and asked when Cait was coming home.”

  Tara winces like I slapped her. “Shit, Kellen. I’m sorry.”

  “It’s fine. We had a good conversation up to that point.”

  “That must be hard though. Do you think she remembers?”

  “Somewhere inside she knows Cait’s gone.” I take a deep breath and slowly release it. More tension goes out into the air. “But I’m not sure she’s able to process it.”

  “I’m sorry. I wish I knew how to help, but I guess I don’t.”

  I walk over and pick up some of the clippings. She watches as I toss them into the brown bag then gesture at her to keep going.

  Without speaking, we start working together. She cuts and I collect, and slowly we move around the patch of unruly plants together, and for an hour, I can concentrate on nothing more important than packing clippings into a bag and watching Tara’s body move. I ease into the moment, marveling at her legs and arms and back and lips. It’s sensual, but I’m also impressed by her strength, her body lean and toned from working outdoors. I want to pin her against a wall again, but this time I’ll bite her lip and kiss her hard and make her whimper my name. I get lost in filthy thoughts like that, and for a while, we just work.

  It’s strangely comfortable, though at first the silence is tense, but by the time we finish, it’s like we’ve been doing this our whole lives. I drag the full bag back to her compost heap and leave it leaning against a large wooden hutch.

  “You didn’t have to do that,” she says, stripping off her gloves and wiping her brow. “I could’ve handled it.”

  “You think I helped because I thought you needed me to?”

  “If you’re trying to butter me up for marriage, that won’t work either.”

  I shake my head and start walking. “I helped because I wanted to, that’s all.”

  “Don’t tell me there’s no ulterior motive.”

  “Not everything’s a power struggle all the time.”

  “Not in this family,” she calls out as I round a bend and her little cottage disappears from sight.

  Chapter 7

  Tara

  I’m still thinking about Kellen hours later when it’s past the hottest point of the day and the sun’s dipping down. Purples, reds, oranges, and more burst across the sky, and I’m busy poking at cactus plants trying to make sure they’re going to blossom properly in the next few weeks and wondering if I need to maybe replant them somewhere else.

  But I’m mostly fussing and picturing Kellen’s muscular arms and chest as he carried around that overstuffed bag. I didn’t have the heart to tell him that we could go dump it and get another one since he seemed so intent on collecting and hauling, and I doubt he’s ever worked outside doing any landscaping in his life. Not to say Kellen hasn’t been through some shit and done hard work, just that gardening isn’t his thing.

  I can’t help but analyze all his motions and motives. Why come out and tell me about his mother? Why help me get some work done? If he’s only doing it to get me to marry him so he can access his money, that’s a shitty and manipulative thing to do.

  But is that Kellen?

  As long as I’ve known him, Kellen’s been straightforward and honest, almost to a fault. He’s painfully blunt at time, and I can’t imagine him using his pain over his mother’s disease to further his goals, but anything’s possible in this family.

  God, I wish I weren’t so stuck in the middle of all this.

  “Evening, Tara.”

  I jump and nearly try to steady myself on a big spiky ball of pain and instead windmill my arms until I manage to stand and keep from faceplanting in needles. I turn and there’s Hugh standing on the path, scratching the back of his head and smiling.

  He’s got that Hayle look. Light eyes, dark hair, very Irish. But where Kellen’s big and broad, Hugh is more wiry, thinner and leaner. He’s tall and decent looking, but he’s almost boring, nondescript. Like I’d never think about him twice if I passed him in a crowd, while Kellen stays with me, lingers in my mind even hours after I last saw him.

  “Hello, Hugh,” I say, straightening and hoping he didn’t notice my extremely clumsy reaction. “How are you?”

  “Doing well, doing well.” He walks over and glances down at the plants. “It’s a miracle what you’ve done in here, you know.”

  “Ah, it’s nothing. It helps that I’ve been given a big budget and lots of time.”

  “Even still, I remember these gardens before you and they weren’t so…” He hesitates, frowning. “They weren’t so beautiful. And they were full of shit that never grows in Arizona and was dying all the time.”

  “There’s still plenty of that in here.”

  “Ah, come on, don’t be so modest. I noticed all the native species in there. The cacti and such. It’s very well done.”

  I nod and smile and strip off my gloves. The compliment is nice and all, but in the years since Hugh has been coming around, he’s never once told me any of this before, and there have been plenty of chances.

  It’s no coincidence that he’s doing it now.

  “I appreciate you saying that. What can I do for you?”

  “I wanted to ask you something and it’s kind of awkward, so I’m apologizing in advance.”

  I shrug a little. “You’re the boss.”

  “Right, I am, aren’t I?” His smile is tense like he’s not sure what to make of this. “I’ve heard from some of the staff that you’ve been seeing Kellen.”

  I go very still. My heart thuds a slow dirge in my chest. The conflict between Hugh and Kellen isn’t my business, not yet at least—I haven’t officially chosen a side. And there’s some voice in the back of my head that’s urging me to stay away, or at least to choose Hugh and the status quo, since I’ve had it so good for so long. I can keep hiding in my cottage and pouring myself into the gardens for as long as I live, if only I refuse to help Kellen.

  “He and I know each other from way back,” I say, trying to be as careful as I can.

  “He was helping with your work earlier, wasn’t he?”

  “I didn’t ask him to.”

  “But he did anyway. Why is that?”

  “I don’t know. I think he had a hard time with—” I stop myself before I say it, but I realize it’s much too late. Hugh’s eyebrows shoot up and he comes a few steps closer.

  “Hard time with?”

  “His mother,” I finish reluctantly, kicking myself for that. I’m so stupid for mentioning it, and now I see my mistake. Hugh didn’t know that Kellen was talking to her, which means that his spies didn’t tell him everything that happened today.

  For someone that doesn’t know which side I want to be on, I sure am screwing one person over right now.

  “And what did he do with his mother?”

  “I’m not doing this.”

  “Tara, it’s okay. I’m only asking.”

  “I know what you’re doing.” I cross my arms and steady my gaze. “I don’t want to pick sides, okay? Whatever’s going on with you guys, leave me out of it.”

  “Did Kellen tell you something’s going on?”

  I groan and look at the sky. “Please, Hugh. I’m just the gardener.”

  “The gardener and the girl that used to be best friends with Cait. Don’t think I’ve forgotten who and what you are. Yes, you’ve been good and quiet out here, working in the sun, laboring away. But I remember. We all remember what happened to that poor girl. I’ve kept you around because you do a good job, but you had a deal with Orin, not with me. Do you understand?”

  I want to scream. This manipulative bastard. He’ll stoop to any low to get what he wants. If I thought Kellen was bad, Hugh is worse, or at least so much more blatant about it.

  “Don’t make me get involved.”

  “And don’t force me to rethink your employment and housing. You’ve gotten a great deal. Good pay, free cottage. We even pay healthcare, don’t we? God, what a nice little life, and you seem to enjoy it.”

  I grip my gloves in both hands and tug at them anxiously. “This isn’t going to work.”

  “Sure it will. What was Kellen talking about with his mom?”

  “I don’t know, okay? All I know is they spent time together, then he came out here and helped me work. I think he was upset about her condition and doing some physical labor helped him forget.”

  “Very quaint, but if you think Kellen gives a damn about his mother, you’re insane. That man doesn’t care about anything in this world except money, power, and himself, so don’t fall for his bullshit. Remember, he left for years, and he’s only back now because he’s a shark and he smells blood in the water.”

  “I don’t want to get involved either way.”

  He nods, still smiling. “Understood, but unfortunately Kellen seems to have involved you regardless. From now on, I want you to tell me what he says as soon as he says it. If you want to keep this job and you want to stay in your cottage and live this comfortable life, you’ll need to prove that you’re a loyal member of this family. No more free rides.”

  I clench my jaw. A thousand responses flit through my mind, most of them starting with fuck you, you stupid— but instead I only nod once and glare at him, not trusting myself to speak.

  “Good,” he says and turns away. “I’m glad we’re on the same page. I’ll be back and I hope you have something interesting to tell me when I am.” He waves and walks off, whistling to himself.

  I watch him go, seething.

  I want to scream at him. I want to hunt down Kellen and scream at him too. No part of me wanted to be involved in this stupid farce of a power struggle but now I’ve been pulled into both camps, and I don’t even know what to do. On the one hand, I can back Kellen, marry him, and hope he wins—even if that’s a long shot. Or I can back Hugh, spy for him, and keep the life I’ve built over the last seven years. I won’t own the gardens, but I’ll get to work them, and that’s been enough to keep me content and sober all this time.