The Wicked

I wake up the next morning with a pain in my back that makes it hard to breathe. I guess that’s what I get for sleeping in an armchair in my father’s hospital room.

He hasn’t woken up – they say he probably won’t.

They say it’s just a waiting game now. Could be hours, could be weeks.

I’d love to say that I’m struggling, battling my depression because of my father’s lifeless body lying in the bed next to me, but I’m not. I feel fine. Although over the years, I’ve found somewhat of a relationship with my father, it doesn’t change everything he’s done.

While I’m thankful I’ve had the opportunity to know him in a different way, there’re still parts of me that are resentful for the way he treated me growing up.

So, while my father spends his last days on this earth in a state of catatonia after a massive coronary, I sit and wait.

Running into Penelope yesterday was a lucky mistake, like stars aligning – my assistant ordered me dinner from California and gave me the address to pick it up. I certainly didn’t know I would find the past staring at me over the counter.

I haven’t done much over the last four years to get over Penelope. I don’t think I’ve wanted to face the reality that I was supposed to. My love for her simply just moved to the back of my mind, burning like a never-ending candle that made me feel warm when I turned to face it. But seeing her again… everything came rushing back like I was some eighteen-year-old kid again. Everything I felt for her back then, it’s still there, and it’s been awoken in me like time hasn’t passed at all.

The sound of the many machines keeping my father alive start to give me a headache by noon, and my ass is killing me from the uncomfortable armchair that has become my bed, so I decide to check into a hotel to freshen up.

I don’t think I’m ready to see my childhood home yet, especially not by myself… I’ll leave that for when I have my friends here with me. Maybe it won’t trigger me that way.

After a shower, I sit down on the floor of my balcony and stretch my body. My therapist has me doing yoga to decrease stress, and part of me hates that something so easy works so well to calm my mind. While I run through my usual poses, I call my assistant to check in, putting the phone on speaker next to me.

“Yes, Hayden?” Serena answers, her tone playful.

“Update me,” I say, stretching to touch my toes.

“No. Focus on your father.”

“You work for me, you know?” I say, a slight roll to my eyes.

“Yes, and part of my job is to make sure you stay sane. Everything is fine here, and in New York too. You aren’t missed.” She ends the sentence with a chuckle because she knows her words will piss me off. Serena was the first candidate I interviewed for the position of my assistant – it just felt like she would fit well with my personality. I didn’t need to meet anyone else; I had a feeling about her, and so far, that feeling has been right.

She knows how to deal with how stubborn and demanding I am. I’m not sure of her personal background. I’ve been uninterested in getting to know anyone beyond a professional relationship in years, but whatever shit she’s been through in her life, it made her someone who’s capable of dealing with my shitty attitude.

“Keeping me sane is not part of your job, Serena. How is Levi doing?” I snip.

“He’s doing fine, just like you trained him to.” She sighs. “Focus on your father, Hayden. Work will be here when you’re ready to return.”

Sitting up, I grab the phone. “Remind me to give you a raise when I get back, Serena.”

“I’ll put a note in your calendar.” She laughs. “Call if you need anything, Hayden. I’ll be at the office late.”

“Will do.” I hang up, walking back inside my hotel room.

I need to decide on a plan for my time in Luxington. Mainly, I need to figure out how I’m going to get back into Penelope’s good graces.

Decide on funeral, sell house, tell family, win my girl back – in no particular order.

I shoot Logan a text as I walk into the bathroom, giving her peace of mind that I’m okay, then I text Levi to check in. He’s worked with me since college graduation, and he’s doing great, but since I’m the acting CEO, there are things he can’t do without me.

While I think over my plan for Penelope, I take a blazing hot shower to ease my nerves.

I know her, and I know the ways to get her heart, but after everything I’ve put her through, it’s going to be tricky – especially since she’s engaged to someone else.

By the time I’m done in the shower, I’ve decided to hunt down her fiancé.

Wrapping a towel around my waist, I call Serena again.

“Yessss?” she answers.

“Must you always sound so annoyed to hear from me?” I ask, chuckling.

She laughs. “What do you need, Hayden?”

“I need you to find someone for me.” I stare at myself in the mirror, wondering if this is a good idea.

“Okay, hit me.”

Clearing my throat, I chew on my bottom lip in thought.

“Hayden?” she prompts, and I nod mindlessly.

“Yeah, I’m here. Luxington, North Carolina – expand the search to the cities bordering it. Penelope Leyton. Find out who she’s engaged to. Email me what you find about whoever it is.”

“You got it,” I hear her typing on her computer in the background. “Anything else you can tell me?”

“That’s all I have. And Serena, keep this between us. Do not tell Levi,” I say, feeling a pit growing in my stomach.

“Okay. I’ll send you something soon.”

“Thanks,” I say, and we both hang up.

While my assistant works, I get dressed in a pair of jeans and a tee – it’s more casual than I’ve been in a while, and it almost feels weird. I wear suits most days, since I work so much, and even when I’m not working, I’m generally dressed pretty nice. But I’m not in L.A., and I feel the need to be more casual while back in Luxington.

I style my hair, brush my teeth, put on some deodorant, then my phone is buzzing with an email from Serena. I click on the notification and read it twice.

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Here’s the information you requested.

Gavin Stine, Jr.

683 Hydrangea Lane, Luxington

(919) 555-9054

Born April 5 to Mary and Gavin Stine Sr in Raleigh, NC.

GavinStineRealEstate.com

He has a showing today 1pm-5pm at 920 Ocean Blvd, then dinner reservations for two at a place called Beach House at 7 in downtown Luxington.

Serena

Ocean Blvd is a few blocks from my hotel, so it wouldn’t take me long to get there.

Leaning on the bathroom counter, I look at myself in the mirror again. All I need to do is see him. His mannerisms and appearance will tell me everything I need to know – whether this is right for Penelope or not.

I get the feeling that she’s just placating something inside, filling the holes that have been left behind after years of loss. But who knows? I could be making it all up in my head, pretending that underneath everything, she still belongs to me.

I’m desperately wanting to see what this fuck looks like, though; how he walks, talks, carries himself.

Walking out of the bathroom, I grab my wallet and shove it in the back pocket of my jeans, then push my feet into some sneakers.

It’s now or never.

Sliding my phone into my other pocket, I grab my keys and leave the hotel room.

Since it’s early in the afternoon, the streets are empty, and it’s only a few minutes before I’m pulling my rented Mercedes into the driveway of a large mansion on the beachfront. If I didn’t hate this guy out of principle, I’d probably be interested in this property – that and if I wanted to move back to NC. The house is spectacular. All white brick with brown trimming gives it a Spanish feel, and the antique fountains outside the front entry are beautiful.

Looks like somewhere Logan may like, so I snap a picture once I’ve put my car into park and send it to her.

Turning off the engine, I step out onto the shells of the driveway and look up at the massive house, letting the sun shine on my face. He must be successful if he’s representing properties this nice, meaning he’s got to be a smart man. Unless he’s a nepotism kid like me.

A handful of people stepping out of the front door pull my attention from the architecture, and I put a hand over my brow to focus on them through the brightness of the day.

“Great to meet you, call me if you have any questions about the property.” A tall, brown-haired man shakes hands with an older, greying one, then he hands a business card to the woman standing to his left.

“Thank you.” The woman tips her head, then turns to walk down the steps to the shelly driveway.

I close my car door, making them each look my way, then the man walks toward me. When he reaches me, he holds his hand out. “Gavin Stine.”

I shake his hand. “Hayden Monroe.”

“Any relation to James Monroe?” he asks, and I tip my head to the side.

“My father.”

“I showed him a home a few blocks down the beach a couple months back. It’s great to meet you. I was just wrapping up with the last group if you’d like a tour before I close up.”

I almost roll my eyes – because of course in a small town like this, he would know who my father is. I should have used a fake name. Oh well, at least he knows I have money and he’ll kiss my ass for the potential of a sale.

He’s attractive – not my type, but I can see the appeal. He has that general level of attractiveness that you’d likely see in a frat house or on a sports team. His shoulders are broad, his biceps bulging underneath the tight button-down shirt he’s wearing. It’s his eyes that draw me in, though – bright blue with eyelashes that shadow over his face.

He’s what people’s grandmothers would call a heartbreaker growing up. He’s a pretty boy.

“Sure,” I say, waving a hand to signal him to lead me in.

I follow behind him, studying how he walks. It isn’t the ass that you could bounce a quarter off of, or the tight pants that hold his muscular legs that make my palms grow sweaty with anger, it’s the swagger in his step. He walks exactly the way he looks, like a frat boy with a hero complex and too much ego.

If I didn’t hate him based on the simple fact that he’s fucking my girl, I would certainly hate him based on how he holds himself.

“These are actually the original doors from when the property was built in 1940.” He slaps the dark wooden doors as we pass through them. “Solid stained wood, traced back to Spain.”

I raise my brows in response when he looks at me, feigning I’m impressed.

We walk through the foyer, which is an open concept that looks into a huge living room to one side and a chef’s kitchen on the other – obviously newer construction than the house itself.

“The previous owner had a liking for cooking, so the kitchen is all state of the art.” He leads me into the kitchen. “Stainless steel appliances that are included, and pure marble countertops.”

He’s a good salesman. If I didn’t already have knowledge of what multi-million-dollar properties had, I’d probably be impressed.

“You cook?” he asks, turning to look at me.

“Not really,” I muse, walking past him around the bar to keep looking through the house.

He follows me. “Well, still a great kitchen to get a personal chef into. They’d have everything they need already.”

I hum between my lips to show him I’m listening, and he steps past me to keep leading the tour. “This is the first family room,” he says, holding his arms out. “You have kids?”

“No.” Looking around at the fancy furniture that’s staged in the room, I couldn’t see a child living in this property. It’s too elegant and fancy – definitely not somewhere you’d want sticky fingers and Crayolas.

“A great home for a young couple, anyways,” he goes on, opening the sliding glass doors that sit on the far edge of the room. I turn my head, my gaze landing on a strip of private beach that takes the breath from my lungs. It’s beautiful. Even though I was at the beach last night, it was too dark to appreciate. It’s the only part of Luxington I miss being away from.

I grew up on this sand, in this ocean, with this sun beating down on my back while I surfed. Gavin, the fuckhead, doesn’t know it, but he’s showing me a piece of myself out back of the property he’s trying to sell. If anything would get me interested in owning a home in Luxington, the beach being two feet from my back door would be it.

“Imagine waking up to this every day,” Gavin says, stepping out onto the wooden deck.

“It’s spectacular,” I muse, staring out at the ocean.

He taps his fingers on the wooden railing he’s standing by. “Shall we finish the tour?”

“I think I’ve seen everything I need to.” I suck my teeth. “Thanks, Gavin.”

“You sure? We still haven’t seen upstairs; the bedrooms are great.” He slides his hands into his pockets and steps toward me.

I nod, turning to walk back inside. I’m afraid if I stay any longer that I’ll slip up and say something to give myself away – that, or I’ll beat him to death. “Thanks for the tour.”

“Here,” he calls after me. “Take my card.”

When I turn around, he’s stepping closer and holding out a business card. I take it, flipping it between my fingers a few times as I stare at his pretty face. “You have plans later, Gavin?”

“What?” he asks, his brows pulling down.

“Plans,” I say, keeping my expression neutral. “Want to grab a drink or something?”

“Oh, like to talk more about the house?” he asks, confusion still pulling at his features.

I chuckle. “Sure. Meet me downtown around seven? That little bistro makes a great martini. I like to know more about the people I get into business with.”

I’m talking out of my ass, but he doesn’t know that. I have a half-formulated plan, and I’m running with it.

“I’m actually supposed to have dinner with my fiancée tonight, could we reschedule?”

“Oh, that’s perfect.” I grin. “Why don’t you bring her? I’d love to meet her.”

The confused look on his face becomes more enhanced, and a little fire blooms in my gut. I know he wants my money; he knows how deep my pockets go, and I’m betting he’ll do whatever I suggest to get this sale.

“Alright,” he says, holding out a hand for me to shake. “Beach House at 7.”

I’m not sure what my end game is here. I’m a thousand percent sure this is going to piss off Penelope, but I need to see her. I need to see her with him to know if it’s real or not. Plus, I’ve always been a sucker for a little game.