Chapter 40 Forty
OWEN WINTERS
I knew the way home like the back of my palm — I mean who wouldn't, it was home after all and most of my life was spent there… at home.
Unhappy memories that weren't vague.
I stepped out of my Mercedes, I could feel the air around me. It read normal, but that would be only for a moment.
“Welcome home, Mr Owen.” I nodded my head in greeting, swiftly passing the usher and the guests scattered in different places, going straight to the gallery where Father stood leaning towards the railings.
“Since when did my son start avoiding me?” He asked, playing with the content in the wine glass in his hand.
“Avoid? Now why would I avoid you, père?” I retorted looking into his eyes.
They looked tired.
Father sighed straightening up, he turned to face me. “Young people these days do, I thought you might not come,” he said, taking a sip of his wine. Father wasn't a problem. I never had a problem with the old man, but then… .
Then what?
“You called me here to celebrate my coming and to proclaim that I, Owen Winters be your heir to this fucking business you built in so many years, am I wrong?” I asked, my eyes burning with disgust.
“You're not exactly right or wrong. I missed my son for one, and yes, to proclaim you heir to my fucking business I built in so many years,” he answered, his voice so calm that I felt guilty. I sighed, taking his drink from his hands and gulping it down.
“Cheers to a new life, I guess,” I muttered.
I watched as father took two glasses of wine and handed me one. “Everyone, have a full glass in your hands!” He announced loudly, his deep voice making the crowd go silent. The serveur began trooping in with glasses of red wine in their tray to serve.
“Tonight, I would love to celebrate my son's retour à la maison. Since he turned eighteen, he had left home to prove his worth and after eight years returned victorious!”
I shut my eyes as the crowd cheered, their shouts filling my ears wanting to drain the life out of me. I needed to go home.
But you're home… .
Scoff.
“And now for the main announcement. After much consideration, I pronounce Owen Winters, the heir to the house of the Winters. Cheers to a new life!” Father said in English, raising his glass up to the crowd.
“Cheers!” They responded and with one swing of their glasses, they gulped down the content.
“Enjoy the party, son,” he whispered into my ears and walked away.
The party wasn't my type; bargains were being made, no dancers, slow but unnoticed music playing — crap.
I decided to move out for some air, anything to get away from the tension I felt inside this house.
“Heir to the Winters house!” Someone called, her voice sounded less feminine and recognisable.
“Oh, bonsoir!” I greeted trying my best to sound cheerful. She was short and had a lot of fat, but one couldn't mess with her. Lady June knew her martial art like it was her child — she had none.
“I'm happy, the illegitimate child of Mr Winters is taking over the business…” my expression changed, all the bricks of fake happiness I built that night fell and shattered to pieces.
Not this again.
“And how's that my fault?” I asked, not ready to argue with her, the lady was trouble.
“It's not…”
“Mafia like? Oh please, you don't know what's mafia like, especially when your brotherhood is falling,” I hissed, visibly irritated. I walked away before she could say anything.
This party was a mess and I needed to go home. Walking to my car, I noticed the tire had been busted.
Mon père. Bête!
I groaned knowing father had a hand in this, and the old man knew I wouldn't even bother staying home.
I could walk… or not.
I called a cab to take me to a distance close to my home, then I would walk the rest. Father knowing where I lived would complicate a lot of things for me.
Fuck.
AMELIA XAVIER
“Get off my head! I don't want to think about him!” I screamed, smashing a glass of wine on the wall. The thought of Owen Winters couldn't leave my mind. He was everywhere and that didn't let me focus on work. I needed to prove to my father that I could take over his business but the first thing I did when I came to Paris was to get drunk and have a freaking one night stand with my childhood crush.
Thoughts ran wild through my brain… what if I was not good enough… what if this wasn't what I really wanted… Owen Winters… Owen Winters… .
Fuck!
“I should first send an email to her asking for an audience, that should be a good start!” I said getting out of my wild thoughts.
Dear, Kayla
…
Delete.
“I studied literature for Christ's sake, I should be good at this,” I reprimanded myself, staring at the body of the email.
Should this be formal or informal… or semi…
Whatever.
Dear Kayla Rodriguez,
It is an honour writing to you, and on behalf of the house of Xavier, I would love to request an audience with you to discuss matters on how to move forward. The house of Xavier has seen potential in you notwithstanding the fact that you single handedly brought the fallen house of the Rodriguez back to its feet. We would love to make a very trustworthy proposal to you and this would be discussed when we meet.
faithfully, Amelia House of Xavier.
Sent.
This letter was going to decide if I was worthy for my father's business and for the first time in so many years, I felt nervous. Before I could leave my email, a message popped up.
FROM KAYLA.
Quickly, I opened the message and instantly, my face dropped.
Dear Xavier,
Your request has been reviewed and you did not pass our requirements. This means your request for an audience with Kayla Rodriguez has been rejected. Keep trying, you might be lucky!
Yours truly,
Kayla
House of Rodriguez.
What?! I stared blankly at the screen. I spent my life doing research about my father's line of work and we were the best, but to be rejected by a smaller and less powerful house was shocking.
Daddy would be so shocked.
“Keep trying?” Scoff. “What a sour form of motivation,” I remarked leaving my email page.
Suddenly, that feeling settled in again. The feeling that I wasn't good enough for father.
Maybe I should call him and quit.
I picked my phone and dialled… .
“Hi love,” father answered, his voice sounded tired and stressed. “You sound terrible, what have you been up to?” I asked, genuinely concerned about him. Daddy sighed and I knew he wasn't going to reply. He was like that.
“Why did you call, sweetheart?” He asked changing the subject as expected. “Well…”
I don't want to do this again. I wanted to say, instead I said, “wanted to check up on you. Paris is good and I just wrote a letter to Kayla requesting an audience, everything's fine.”
Daddy chuckled. “The way you say it, it makes me wonder if everything is actually fine,” he said.
My father always knew what was wrong with me. He could read my thoughts, emotions and expressions. “I said I'm fine, I'll call later. Love you.”
Call ended.
I sighed, slapping my forehead. I needed air.
Wearing my coat, I opened the door and stepped out.
What a long evening.