WHIT
ONE MONTH later
I SHOW up at my lawyer’s office precisely at ten. I left my apartment early, not taking any chances with the Manhattan traffic, and still my parents managed to beat me here.
Irritation fills me as I’m escorted to Madison’s office by his assistant and I spot them sitting inside with matching annoyed expressions on their faces. My lawyer Ben Madison is a skinny little man who looks like he couldn’t squash a bug, but he’s as ruthless as they come.
It’s why I hired him. I need a vicious shark on my side when I’m going into battle with my family.
“Mr. Lancaster. Good to see you.” Madison rises to his feet and walks over to me, shaking my hand. “Have a seat.”
I walk over to the one empty chair closest to Madison’s desk, unbuttoning my suit jacket before I sit. I am all business this morning, because I’m not about to let my parents fuck with what’s mine. I’m here to play.
I’m here for war.
“I don’t understand why we’re meeting this morning. I’ve already expressed my concerns. My son is with a woman who isn’t good enough for him. She will spend all of the family’s money and most likely leave my
children destitute,” Mother says to my lawyer, her icy expression one that is long familiar. She doesn’t like being put in a corner, or bossed around. She’s had control over my life for a long time, but once I became an adult, I told her to fuck off.
With relish.
She’s been fighting me tooth and nail ever since. Trying to take control of the trust fund I received from her side of the family when I turned eighteen
—didn’t happen. She’s busily working to limit the amount of the trust fund I’m about to inherit when I turn twenty-one. That’s not going to happen either.
My father doesn’t fight me. He’s currently in this office as a formality, and hopefully, as a united front with me.
But we shall see. Mother is persuasive. And while I love my father, I also know he’s weak.
Especially when it comes to women.
I think of the one woman who has complete and total control of me, and my heart immediately softens. Perhaps she’s a weakness, but together, Summer and I are strong. It was difficult leaving her alone in my bed earlier this morning. Naked and warm, her hair a mess from last night’s activities. I’d kissed her and she wound her arms around my neck, begging me to stay.
“One last meeting, love,” is what I told her, my voice firm and full of determination. “And then they can’t control me any longer.”
Getting Summer to come back to the States with me took some convincing. She was reluctant. Scared. My mother doesn’t like her, and Summer feels the same. They will most likely never get along, and I’m okay with that. I will choose Summer over my mother any day.
Every day.
“I don’t want to argue with you,” I tell my mother. “But your assumption of Summer is ridiculous. She doesn’t even care about my money.”
She barks out a laugh. “I find that hard to believe.”
“It’s true,” I say, baring my teeth in a feral smile.
My father says nothing, which is best. One wrong word and Mother will latch onto it.
“It is true,” Madison says, opening a slim folder and pulling out a document. He hands it to my mother. “This is the prenuptial agreement Miss Savage signed in regards to marrying your son.”
Mother’s mouth pops open as she takes the document, not even bothering to look at it. “You two are getting married?”
“Not yet,” I say, hating how Summer keeps denying my proposals, but I have to agree to her wishes. Though I’m positive I’ll wear her down. Eventually. “But she wanted a prenup drawn up immediately upon her moving into my apartment. Said she didn’t want anyone to think she was a gold digger.”
“She is a gold digger—” Mother says, and I sit forward, cutting her off with a look.
“Watch what you say about her,” I say, my voice sharp. I’ll carve her up with words and have zero regrets over it too. “She’s the mother of my future children.”
“Please do not tell me that girl is preg—”
“Sylvia.” My father’s voice booms, startling her. “Shut up.”
She clamps her lips shut, her gaze dropping to the document I had Madison draw up earlier in the week. “So what?” she says when she’s finished reading, dropping the paper on the edge of my lawyer’s desk. “I’m sure she’ll figure out a way to spend your money somehow. Our money.”
“My money is my money,” I tell her vehemently. “She won’t have access to yours. Or Father’s, or Sylvie’s or Carolina’s. We all have our own trust funds and bank accounts. You know this. You helped set up our inheritance when we were babies. Why are you so damned determined to steal it away from me?”
“Because of her!” She jumps to her feet, her face red, her eyes bulging. Sylvia Lancaster doesn’t lose control. She’s disturbingly calm in almost every situation—with one exception.
“You did this.” She rounds on my father, who rears back at the vehemence in her tone. “It’s all your fault. First you fuck that little slut for all those years and destroy our marriage once and for all, and now our own flesh and blood is having a torrid affair with the slut’s daughter. I won’t have it!”
My father stands, looming over his ex-wife with a faint sneer on his face. “You take everything so damn personal, Syl. Acting like Whit is trying to hurt you by being with Summer.” He glances over at me, his expression full of understanding. “Sometimes we can’t help who we fall in love with.”
She whips her head in my direction, blue eyes blazing. “I know I haven’t always been the most—nurturing mother to you, but—”
“This has nothing to do with you,” I say, my voice deceptively soft. “And everything to do with me. And what I want. You’ve never given me a choice. My entire life, up until the moment I turned eighteen, I let you call the shots. I even believed you were looking out for my best interests.”
“I was,” she says. Father makes a dismissive noise and she turns her attention toward him. “What? It’s true!”
“You’re forgetting my parents didn’t always approve of you, especially not at first,” he reminds her.
She laughs nervously. “Please. They chose me over everyone else. Your father handpicked me from a swarm of debutantes who were all vying for your attention.”
“And then they met you,” he says, cutting her right to the bone. I can tell by the way her gaze dims. “My mother worried you were too controlling. I always wished I could tell her she was right.”
I say nothing. I worried over what he could say, but looks like Dad is turning out to be an asset after all.
“I just want what’s best for my children,” she says, her eyes suddenly shining bright.
Here come the phony tears.
“Sometimes even at the expense of our children’s health.” He thrusts a finger in her direction. “Don’t even get me started about Sylvie.”
The tears fall now, silently rolling down her face. She looks away as if she’s ashamed. Mother and Sylvie haven’t spoken to each other in almost a year. Sylvie recently ran away. Well, she’s calling it a gap year. Last I heard, she’s spending time in Fiji.
“You need to let our son live his own life,” Dad continues, his voice gentle. “He’s old enough to make his own decisions, and he chooses to be with Summer. There’s nothing you can do about it, Syl. Let him be. Stop harassing him over the trust fund. Call off your lawyers and be done with it.”
Her gaze finds mine, and I just look at her, not able to smile. Not able to feel anything at all. This woman might be my mother, but she didn’t have much of a hand in raising me. That was thanks to nannies and private schools. She was never nurturing. Cared too much about appearances and social status.
I refuse to ever let that happen to me. To my future. I want to raise my children. Love my wife. I don’t want to cheat. I don’t want to control.
Well. I do like control. But privately is where I get the most joy out of it. “Fine. I’ll stop the legal proceedings.” She lifts her chin, haughty as ever.
I don’t bother saying thank you. Why should I? She’s the one who started this mess. She should be apologizing to me.
“You’ll realize someday, that I was trying to do you a favor.” She approaches me and I gaze up at her from where I sit. She might be standing over me, but we both know who’s in control of this situation. “You’ll come to me and say that I was right. This girl is just using you. Mark my words.”
“Whatever you need to believe, go ahead and believe it. I know the truth,” I say, my voice calm.
She scans the room, realizing quickly she has no one left on her side. With a huff, she walks out of the office, slamming the door behind her.
“I’ll reach out to her lawyer this afternoon.” Madison reaches across his desk and grabs the prenup Summer insisted on. “I’m hopeful she’ll let this matter go.”
“Don’t even know how she believed she’d have a legal leg to stand on anyway,” Father mutters. “Got anything to drink in here, Madison?”
I watch as my lawyer pours my father a glass of scotch. He asks if I want any but I refuse. It’s not even noon yet. Instead, I pull my phone out of my pocket and send a quick text.
Me: It’s done.
She responds almost immediately. Summer: Come home.
I rise to my feet, shaking my lawyer’s hand before I give my father a brief hug. “Wish I could celebrate with the two of you, but I need to get going.”
“Where to?” My father asks, sounding suspicious. I just offer him a quick smile. “Duty calls.”
 |
I FIND her in my bedroom. Still in bed. Still naked and mussed and sleepy. The moment I enter the room, I start shedding my clothes, watching her watch me, a tiny smile playing upon her lips as I tear out of my button- down shirt so violently, I pop a button. It lands on the hardwood floor with a soft ping, making her giggle.
“Lazy,” I murmur, my cock straining the front of my trousers when she sits up, letting the covers fall and exposing her bare breasts.
She flips her hair over her shoulder, letting me see even more. “You left and I couldn’t help but drift off back to sleep. I think I still have jet lag.”
“You’ve been on New York time for over a week, Savage. That excuse is getting old,” I tease, toeing off my shoes before shucking my trousers and boxers off in one go, kicking them onto the floor. Last are my socks, and I sit on the edge of the mattress, yanking them off before I crawl up the bed. Until I’m lying on top of Summer, her legs falling open to accommodate my hips as I settle myself in between her thighs. I stare at her, my gaze never straying from hers as I push a few wild strands of silky soft hair away from her face.
So beautiful. And all mine. Since finding her again, I can barely stand to keep her out of my sight. She’s still my Summer, but older. More mature. More thoughtful and not as impulsive as she used to be.
I’m not either.
“It went well then?” she asks, her brows drawing together in concern. Nodding, I lean in and drop a kiss on her perfect lips. “Mother threw a fit.” “Of course she did.”
“My father was supportive.” “He’s not so bad.”
“He’s really not. I think he sees himself in me, and how he didn’t get a choice at my age.” I kiss her cheek. Her jaw. Her ear, and the soft spot just behind it.
“And what’s your choice?” she asks, breathless.
“You.” I lift away slightly so I can look into her eyes. “Always you, Summer.”
Her smile is slow, her eyes glowing. “I don’t want your money.” “You’re a fool for saying that, according to my mother.”
“I suppose I’m not as greedy as her. Though I do feel greedy.” She reaches up, her fingers drifting across my lips. “For you.”
I part my lips and nip at her finger, making her yelp. She drops her hand and I kiss her, my lips on hers as I murmur, “I love you.”
“I love you too,” she says, just before I take the kiss deeper.
Words are pretty, but most of the time they’re meaningless. That’s why I show her that I love her.
By worshipping her body for the rest of the day.
