Chapter 90

Chapter 90
They went home to his mansion. To his cock’s disappointment, he slept in the master bedroom alone because Thea was sick and Elvie slept in her room. But it was still better than sleeping in a million-star hotel or at the Stanton Towers, which he couldn’t even look at after he’d learned what he had about his father not being his real father.

He wasn’t the one who’d cheated on him.

Yet Zander was the one who’d taken most of Matheo’s wrath.

In the morning, Elvie gave her brother a shake from what looked like sewer water, green puke, and misery and slid a bowl of cereal his way. It wasn’t even a brand. It was poured right out of a six-pound industrial box with a Costco logo.

“Where is the chef?”

“Vacation…half of the staff too.” Elvie smiled.

“Cavities and diabetes. Breakfast of champions,” Zander muttered into the bowl as he took a spoonful.

“My apologies. Our room service doesn’t work on Mondays. Butler is sick. No chef, yeah so, stick with me!” Elvie took a seat next to her dad and patted his veiny hand.

“Huh! Okay! So, how is Thea?”

“She is fine, just some baby teeth issues. Remind me to bring her to the dentist later, by the way.”

“Okay.” He fucking loved this girl. What she lacked in breakfasts, she made up for with love.

“Because you let her eat chocolate,” he waved her off.

Elvie frowned, “Me? Really? Am I the one who brought her a box of sweets, candy, and chocolate? hidden in her cabinet?” she raised her brow at him.

He smirked. “Fine, it's my fault. But I can't just say no to her. You know that.”

“You are spoiling her, Zander. I swear, you are—”

“I can be in charge of breakfast when I move back here.”

"Really?"

Utensils clattered on plates, and Joey’s eyes ping-ponged between them. There was a lot of amusement in them. “That's good news!” he winked at her.

Elvie studied Zander, trying to gauge whether he was kidding or not.

He wasn’t.

“I’m not a breakfast person,” she said. “And yes, I know it’s the most important meal of the day.”

His eyes slid down her midriff and stopped where the table covered her. He smiled. “No, it isn’t.”

“You’re awful.” She hid her smile behind her coffee mug.

“And you’re going to let me pick your shoes today,” he retorted.

Joey laughed. “Can you hear it?”

“Hear what?” Her cheeks were doing this hamster thing, where she stifled a laugh and looked too cute doing so.

It was sickening, really, how he felt about her. He would find the word embarrassing fitting if he didn’t own up to that shit.

“Your chests are humming sis. Like it! You’re happy, kids.” Joey took a sip of his shake, grimacing. “The happiest you’ve ever been.”



A little while later, they took Zander’s red Ferrari to work, both staring at her dove-white shoes. His pick. He wanted a clean slate. A fresh start.

“Peace,” she flipped Kipling absentmindedly, staring at it as she spoke. “SBC is falling apart, and I don’t expect these revelations to change your commitment.”

“My only commitment is to the company my father owned. I need to inherit, and I need to the only girl who’s capable of calling me out on my bullshit. Not in that order.”

She looked up. “And who would that be?”

Zander twisted the collar of her shirt into a ball and jerked her to him in a kiss, not giving a fuck that everybody was watching. Or that they were standing up, clasped between dozens of sweaty, exasperated people, starting their Monday. Not caring about anything but her. Their lips touched, and his cock was a second away from shouting Hallelujah. Her mouth was soft and warm, and mine, and her body melted against his in a way that could only mean one thing.

It was back on. And this time, he wasn’t going to let go.



“Zander, sir?” Bella came running from the hallway, panting out his name.

“Bella. Good morning. Feel free to drop off my items at the usual dry cleaners. You can use the wait time to chill.” He hated that word, but it needed to be said. He also still hated doing his own dry cleaning, and he really did think Bella could use a little down time. “But you can no longer drink on shift, unless you want your ass thrown into rehab.”

She was standing in his office, shuffling full boxes from side to side. He breezed right in, carrying his Starbucks and throwing two pieces of mint gum into his mouth. With all due respect—and let’s admit it. Bella was the best of all his many assistants.

“Sharp on a Monday morning. I like that, Bella. Now get the fuck out of my office and give me my schedule.” He dumped his leather briefcase under his desk and powered up his laptop.

Poor thing she thought she’d gotten rid of him. Zander tsked. He decided to go easy on her since he was going to have to be a little more tolerable for Elvie’s sake—especially after his so-called dumping of her so publicly.



Zander had expected Matheo to blaze onto the floor and make a spectacle out of the situation. The fact that he remained silent suggested he was strategizing about how to tackle the bane of his existence, AKA yours truly. I gave him his time because I actually had work to do. He thought to himself.

Elvie ran from place to place around the newsroom, her cheeks flushed. Almera and Gerald's team seemed glad he hadn’t left, and Bella smiled guiltily and waved her hand every time he shifted his eyes to make sure she wasn’t reaching for her top drawer to take a mini bottle out.

Five hours into their workday, while he was knee-deep in something in the newsroom, Zander got a phone call from the sixty-first floor.

"It's Matheo,” Bella said, coming as close as she could, holding the corded phone in her hand.

No, it is not, and thank fuck for that.

He hadn’t even called his cell. Instead, he was making a whole fucking show about it, like he knew he would.

“He wants to speak to you,” she said.

“He knows where to find me.”

“He’s asking if you can come up to his office.”

“I can’t. But he can come down. Or not. Giving a shit is not on my agenda today.”

“He said he'd call security.” Bella’s face was so red that, for a moment, he worried she might explode.

“Tell him that’s a very good idea. I’ve been thinking about getting rid of his ass for a long time now.” The room fell quiet, everybody staring at him. He nodded his chin at the phone.

“Tell him that, Bella. You’re just following my orders. Word for word, please.”

She repeated his message to Matheo, wincing the entire time.

Elvie appeared at his side, squeezing his biceps and looking up at him with a smile. He pulled her into a hug and kissed her forehead. He had a lot of damage control to do when it came to the way people perceived them as a couple in this place.

When Bella ended the call, there was a pause, after which the entire newsroom erupted with a lengthy standing ovation. She laughed. He smirked.

When Zander turned around to walk back to his office, Matheo was standing at the door, waiting for him. Next to him stood his aunt, fresh off her private plane, judging by her casual clothes.

Her eyes were horrified.

She knew his were dead.

Showtime.



“Can I offer you anything? Bourbon? Whiskey?  Water? Perhaps a lie-detector?"Zander motioned to the mini bar in his office, his smile casual and charming—the way they’d taught him at the Swiss summer school his parents had sent him to every year.

His aunt seated herself on the couch in front of his desk, staring at her hands in her lap, and Matheo paced, pulling at his ear in a nervous tick. He was the only person in the room whose heart didn’t seem to be beating a mile a minute, and that’s because he knew something they didn’t.

“I’m so mad at Patrick for telling you,” his aunt muttered. “I was only trying to protect you, Zander. Think about the way it would have been perceived in our circle. In any circle, really. You’d have been a bastard. Your blood is blue. You are a Stanton.”

“My blood is red, and being a bastard is better than being his son.” He walked over to the front of his desk and leaned against it.

“Listen, Zander,” Matheo said, raising his hand.

“Not even a word, Matheo,” he warned, arching a brow. “Not. Even. One.”

“I don’t know what you think you have on me."

“Oh, I think you do. That’s why you’re shitting your pants as we speak.”

“You can’t use it in court. Danny was not supposed to record those private conversations,” Matheo stressed, his left eye ticking.

He had a point. After he’d left Patrick’s apartment last night, he’d emailed his aunt and Matheo a file with the recording, along with a brief note about how he’d come clean to him.

Ignoring his words, Zander threw Matheo a pointed look. “You will drop the ads, terminate the dodgy contracts, and hire back every single person you have fired from my team by the end of the day. And if any of them are unavailable, you will find me a top-notch replacement. If I were you, I’d start working right now. Work is a foreign concept, so it will take you time to get the gist of it. Oh, by the way, you might want to start thinking about prison; you killed my parents after all.”

Matheo laughed. “What makes you think I will do anything for you? Nothing has changed, other than the fact that you now know why I couldn’t stand your face from day one. You mine. Your mother messed up. The only good things about it and to her were SBC. And you took them from me, too.”

His aunt darted up from the couch, walked over to Matheo, and slapped his face hard.

Zander watched them, emotionless. What a fucking mess! Surely he could dump some of the responsibility for him being a heartless prick on the fact that these two clowns were family.

Matheo stared at her, dumbfounded, and rubbed his red cheek. He narrowed his eyes. He was about to raise his hand to her, but thought better of it once Zander stepped between them and shook his head.

“I will fuck up your face so hard, you will have six new holes to sneeze from,” he said dryly.

Matheo took a step back, clearing his throat and fixing his gaze back on her. The old man smirked, cocking his head with a devilish glint in his eyes.

“Thanks for bringing her here, by the way,” Zander interjected, clicking his tongue in approval. “She was the answer and the solution.”

“Huh?” The old man spun on his heel, staring him down.

Zander took sick pleasure in slowly pouring himself a glass of something he was never going to drink, whistling and thinking about Elvie’s white shoes—of all fucking things in the world—and how damn good they were going to look with a white wedding gown, or better yet, without anything else at all.

“Everything turned out for the best,” Zander explained. “I met Elvie, and we’ve found something you two miserable assholes will never have.”

Zander swirled the liquid in his glass, looking up and saluting his biological father. His aunt, who hated her sister so much, looked on the verge of fainting, and despite everything, Zander still had sympathy for her.

“And I get to keep SBC,” he added.

“How so?” Matheo parked his hands on his waist, scowling.

A vein in his neck began to pump visibly. Zander traced his finger over the rim of the glass, staring at it intently as he answered him. He was worried he was going to get a hard-on simply from seeing him crumble if he looked up.

“Life works in mysterious ways. When Kristal came here a couple months ago and told me Madelyn had died, I was crushed. I rushed to the Davises’ house and spent time with them. You probably weren’t aware, but I had a very close relationship with Madelyn. I craved human contact.” He rubbed his jaw. “So imagine my surprise when they called me a few weeks after her passing to confirm that she had left her granddaughters with millions and millions of dollars and the estate, and little old me with her ten percent of SBC. Now guess how many shares I have, including my parents?”

Zander didn’t tell them about the letter Madelyn had also left him. It was more of a note, really. But it brought his situation with Elvie into sharp relief.

With business out of the way, it’s time to listen to your heart.

Don’t lock my granddaughter in a loveless marriage.

Don’t lock my favourite boy inside one, either. It’s a miserable place to be. I’ve been there with someone before, and I never want my loved ones to pay this place a visit.

Make me proud.

Love,

Madelyn

Zander watched in his periphery as their eyes widened and reality set in.

His aunt was guilt-stricken and on his side, with shares of SBC. He had ten additional ones. He could now throw out any decision Matheo had made easily.

“No,” Matheo said, stumbling backward and collapsing onto the sofa.

“Yup,” he confirmed, popping the “p” for good measure. “You’ve gotten everything you ever wanted by walking over people and making a fucking mess, Matheo, while I managed to save my company by forming a genuine relationship with an elderly, somewhat lonely woman who just needed someone to be there for her. Karma is a bitch, and I do believe she just justified her reputation by shoving a ten-foot pole up your ass.”

His aunt galloped in his direction, throwing her arms around his neck. He let her. Not because he wasn’t mad at her. Not because he wasn’t livid, and not because he thought her behaviour was remotely acceptable.

No. He let her, because if his little Elvie could forgive him for being an inglorious bastard, maybe he could forgive his aunt for lying to him in order to protect him, even though it was the truth that ended up setting him free. All this time, she knew about him and Matheo.

Maybe I could break the cycle of hate.

Maybe I wouldn’t have had any more misunderstandings that resulted in the unnecessary deaths of people I loved and cared about.

Maybe I could live. With Elvie by my side,

With good music and bad exes.

And with so much sex, she couldn’t fucking see straight. He thought to himself.