Lily Knight - Hunt's Desire Vol. 1 Page 2

  I stopped him there. “She’s worth it!” I argued.

  “I’m not saying she’s not,” he countered. “I’m simply saying that your lifestyle has been lavish and extravagant, and you haven’t been doing a single thing to bring money in other than some investments I’ve made on your behalf. Your funds have reached the point where I had the authority to shut your spending down in order to ensure you would have enough money to meet your basic needs between now and your next trust fund payout.” Michael leaned against the wall and looked down at me as he continued. “ You’re next payout will be when you get married, and another when you have your first child, or when you turn 40. Whichever comes first.”

  “So… wait,” I said, flustered and agitated. “You’re saying I’ll have no more money until I turn 40?”

  “Not exactly,” Michael said condescendingly. “I’m controlling your accounts now, so I’ll ensure your necessities remain paid for. You won’t go hungry or homeless. And you’ll get some spending money provided to you with your share payouts. But other than that… yes, your access to funds is going to be severely limited. Just as I’ve been telling you would happen for the last year if you didn’t curb your spending.”

  “I get it, Michael,” my voice shot up. “You’ve warned me, and I ignored your warning. Bad Caleb. But what in the hell am I supposed to do now? Just wait around for you to provide me with an allowance? I’m a grown man. I have a degree from Harvard.”

  “Then might I suggest you use that degree…” he smiled and paused, seemingly for dramatic effect. “And get a job.”

  It took everything in me not to punch him in his stupid, smug face.

  Standing up without another word, I walked out of the office and onto the street, wandering

  along Fifth Avenue. I was having a hard time wrapping my mind around the situation I was currently in. No money. None. Suddenly, I had massive regrets about shattering my phone that morning. Apparently, that had been really stupid.

  I started thinking about Roger and his amusement with my lifestyle. Well, he certainly wouldn’t be amused by me now. Or maybe he would be.

  It was clear that I was going to have to get a job, if only so that I wouldn’t have to be dependent on the likes of Michael. I didn’t like the idea, but it seemed I had no other choice.

  Of course, that was when it hit me that getting a job wasn’t even the worst of it; I would need my father’s help to get my foot in the door somewhere. I hadn’t had a job in three years, and most everyone in town knew me as a playboy who had little interest in working. My father’s connections would probably be my only hope of landing a decent position.

  He was going to love that.

  *

  When I returned home, I headed to my study to try to find some contact information for my father, seeing as I no longer had my phone to access that information from. Once I found it, I thought about calling him from then house line, but then I realized the better plan would be to just show up. I didn’t want him to be forewarned of my circumstances.

  He had never approved of my refusal to do much with my degree. I knew he had hoped I would go to work at his company and take it over one day, but nothing about that had ever interested me. And I’d been so sure I was set for life financially. Probably because, as much as I hated to admit it, Michael had been right; most people would have been set for life financial on the money I’d had available to me.

  Guess the joke’s on me now.

  As I sat at my desk, I realized it had been quite some time since I’d been there. A picture of my mother sat on the desktop, and I paused to graze my fingertips across the frame. She was a beautiful woman who I missed dearly. Her death had hit me hard, and the fact that she had committed suicide hit me even harder. She had just always been so… sad. And even though I had never admitted it out loud, I always kind of blamed my father for that.

  Whether I liked it or not, though, I had to return home. I needed some money—and I needed a phone. My father would be able to get me back on top quickly. It was just a matter of sucking it up, going back there, and kissing his ass for a while. I could do that. I would show up to see what Rosie had wanted, and then I’d ask my father for help. As soon as the details were ironed out, I would hightail it back home as quickly as possible.

  I just hoped I wasn’t going to regret this.

  Chapter Two

  Skye

  Pulling up in front of the extravagant residence in Newport, Rhode Island, I had mixed feelings. It sat right along the coast, and the grounds that surrounded the home were enormous. You could quite literally get lost and never be found.

  Nothing ever prepared me for being around this lifestyle. My mother had been working for the Hunt’s for many years, my whole life actually. She loved working here and was very appreciative of all they had done for her. But I had always been more than a little uncomfortable around them. Around… all of this.

  Surly was as good a word as any to define my current mood. I wasn’t happy at all about having to visit with my mother. I had wanted to spend my summer working at an internship in New York, the same place that all my friends were going. As a grad student, I knew opportunities like that needed to be jumped on. But I also had an impossible time saying “no” to my mother. And for reasons I still didn’t understand, her pull over me had won out once again. All it had taken was the clipped sound of disappointment in her voice; the edge of tears I knew she was fighting back over the news that we wouldn’t have this summer together. And I had caved. I had backed out on an opportunity I might not ever get again. Which I knew was my fault rather than hers. But still, here I was, in Rhode Island instead of New York.

  The cab stopped in front of the house, and I got out and waited as the cabby gathered my two measly bags. Staring up at the massive structure in front of me, I handed him a few bills before he drove away. And then I was left there, all alone, trying to build up the courage to approach the door.

  From what I remembered, the home had several wings. I knew that I would be staying in an area that was out of the way from the rest of the house. I remembered there were chandeliers in every room, as well as huge, winding staircases. The back veranda had an immense balcony that wrapped around the entire house. It was where most of the entertaining took place, and I had always known it to be breathtaking.

  Instead of going up to the front door, I headed to the side of the house. I wanted to see if there was anyone on the veranda before I made my way inside. But as I was walking, I heard voices. I stopped and listened, trying to determine where they were coming from. Looking upward, I could see a window that had been left slightly ajar. The voices were drifting out for anyone to hear.

  When each voice rose a little higher, I was embarrassed to realize I had stumbled upon an argument. I turned to walk away, only to be stopped by the further realization that one of those voices belonged to my mother, and her tone was shaky. What could she be so upset about?

  I tried to make out the argument, but I couldn’t distinguish any of the words. So instead, I stood there under the window, stunned.

  Suddenly, a door slammed, startling me. It was followed by the sound of feet stomping their way down the stairs. A few minutes later, I saw my mother through one of the back windows. Her face was a bright red, and I wondered again what had upset her so deeply.

  I felt awkward standing there, knowing it was likely her boss my mother had been arguing with; the type of conversation she never would have wanted me to overhear. For a moment, I wondered if I should return to the front and go in that way. But then she looked out the window and saw me. She broke into a wide smile and waved, before running to the back door to let me in.

  “Skye! My God, darling, let me look at you, my beautiful girl. How was your trip?”

  “Oh, just fine, Mom.”

  “I missed you. I’m so glad you’re here.”

  “I missed you, too,” I said, hugging her. “I just… I’m still going to have to try to work some. You know that, right
, Mom? The internship I gave up in New York, it was a big deal. And I may need to put in some hours here to try to find a similar opportunity somewhere in the fall.”

  “Oh, Skye,” her face fell. “I… you didn’t tell me. I didn’t know it was important to your career. I just thought… I don’t know. I mean, they weren’t even going to pay you much, were they?”

  My shoulders slumped as I admitted. “They weren’t going to pay me at all.”

  She didn’t say anything, so I continued. “But that’s how journalism works, you have to get your foot in the door.”

  Looking up to meet her eyes, I could see the guilt in them.

  “It’s fine, Mom,” I finally conceded. “Really. I didn’t even mean to bring it up. I’ll figure it out. I just needed you to know that I may not be able to help you out all that much.” Then, hoping to change the subject, I added, “They have Wi-Fi here, right?”

  Now she smiled again. “Yes, of course!” She promised. Grabbing one of my bags and walking inside, she said, “I hope you’ll have time to get to know Gordon. You always skirted around him growing up, but I really think you’ll love him.”

  I always skirted around him because it was always painfully clear I wasn’t wanted here. I thought to myself. Which reminded me, “ Hey, Mom… I heard you arguing with someone when I was outside. Is everything okay?”

  She blanched. “I wasn’t arguing with anyone.”

  “Mom,” I waited until her eyes met mine before continuing, softly, but with concern. “I just heard you upstairs.”

  She shook her head. “Honestly, Skye, you must have imagined it. It wasn’t me.”

  I didn’t know what to say. I hadn’t imagined anything, but what if it really wasn’t my mother I had heard?

  Then again, if it hadn’t been her, who was it?

  “Have a seat. I’ll make you something to eat.” She ordered, pulling me from my thoughts.

  I sat down at the island in the kitchen and watched her go to work peeling potatoes.

  “Do you mind if I maybe take my stuff to my room first,” I finally said. “Or… our room? Are we sharing?”

  Turning around, she offered with a smile, “Nope! You’ll have your own space. And of course—your room is two flights up, second door on the left. It’s right next to mine.” Turning back around, she added, “This will probably take me about fifteen minutes, so feel free to explore if you want.”

  I stood and started to leave, catching sight of my mother with her back to me, working away. Like she always was. Silently, I stepped toward her and put my arms around her waist from behind, resting my cheek against her shoulder. She stopped what she was doing momentarily, put her hands over mine on her stomach, and sighed.

  This was why I was here. Because I loved my mother. Because I missed her. And because I knew she missed me too.

  Without another word, I set out on my exploration mission. The mansion was massive, and from the inside, it seemed like you could spend weeks looking around and still never see everything. How did people live like this?

  I was instantly grateful, as I had been 100 times before, that we had never actually lived in the servant’s quarters (as I referred to them) growing up. My mother had always insisted on us keeping a small apartment across town, taking the bus to and from work when I was a kid. She had only moved in herself once I was officially off to college.

  As a child, I had only ever been here on days when she couldn’t otherwise find someone else to watch me, and I had always hated it. Now that this was home for her, I would be spending far more time in these walls than I cared to contemplate.

  I found myself at the bottom of the staircase and imagined what it would be like walking down them, dressed and ready for a ball. It reminded me of the staircase in Disney’s Beauty and the Beast. I slowly ascended the steps and entered a grand hallway, where I knew most of the guest rooms were; the ones for actual visiting guests, not the help. As I walked down the hallway, I came to a set of rather imposing oak doors. They were like nothing I had ever seen before. This had to be the master bedroom, Gordon’s room. The doors looked like something out of a decorating magazine, which left me wondering about the room inside. What if I just took a peek?

  After a moment of hesitation, I knocked on the door. I waited, but there was no response from inside. Softly, I placed my ear up against the wood and listened for any sign of life from inside. Nothing. He must have been somewhere else in the house. A quick look couldn’t hurt anyone…

  Slowly, I pushed open the door and peered inside. There was Gordon Hunt, lying in bed. I gasped, and he turned toward the door, as startled to see me standing there as I was to see him. God, didn’t he hear me knock? He quickly shoved something into his nightstand drawer, but I couldn’t tell what it was.

  I blushed deeply, embarrassed. “Oh gosh, I’m so sorry. I knocked, but there was no answer. I was just exploring your beautiful home, and well, your doors were so mysterious…” I trailed off, not sure what else to say. Clearly I had violated some sort of code here.

  Gordon didn’t appear to be angry with me, though. Instead, he invited me over to talk.

  I walked over to the bed slowly. My mother had mentioned on the phone once or twice that he was feeling ill, but I was surprised to find him gaunt and a bit ghastly. He looked much older than his sixty-three years.

  Whatever was wrong with him, it showed even more as I drew closer. His body had grown thin and fragile, his hair silvered and scraggly; gone was the vitality of the man who had always lingered in the background of my childhood. As I stood beside the bed, I noticed he had an IV and a heart monitor. I didn’t want to be in the room any longer, and I wished I had never opened those doors.

  “Hello there, Skye?” He broke the silence.

  “Yes, Mr. Hunt.”

  “Don’t call me that. My name is Gordon,” he said gruffly.

  The guy, though frail, terrified me in a way I couldn’t really explain. I imagined that when he wasn’t sick, he was probably a very intimidating man, one with a real presence. Or maybe it was just the fact that I was generally uncomfortable with wealth.

  “I’m sorry. How are you, Gordon?”

  “I’ve definitely been better.”

  I offered a half smile, not sure how to respond.

  “You certainly grew up, didn’t you?” He continued. “The last time I saw you… Wow, you must have been just a little thing.”

  “Yes,” I thought about it for a moment, “I was probably around ten.” Shortly after that, I had convinced my mom I was old enough to stay home alone. There had never been a need for me to tag along with her at work again.

  “You’re probably right. Rosie has been with me for quite some time. Your mother is one special lady. Don’t know what I would do without her…” There was a distant look in his eyes as his voice trailed off.

  “Thank you.” I finally spoke, realizing there was nothing more on his mind. “That’s nice of you to say. I know she has really enjoyed working for you. You’ve taken care of her, and we’re both very thankful to you.” The words felt odd on my tongue, but I realized as I said them that they were true.

  He smiled. “I’m glad to hear that.”

  “I’m sorry again for interrupting you, Gordon. I’ll let you get your rest.”

  He nodded, and that was my queue to exit the room. I slowly closed the door behind me and flopped back against it, letting out a sigh of relief. God, I felt like an idiot for just walking in there like that. What was I thinking? I should never have done that.

  Suddenly, I remembered him hiding something in his drawer. What could it have been? Perhaps nothing. Maybe he had just been shocked to see me there.

  Regardless, my opinion of the man had shifted slightly. I had expected someone stuffy and arrogant, but Gordon had actually been quite kind, especially considering my intrusion in his room.

  I headed back downstairs to the kitchen to eat, looking forward to my mother’s cooking, which I had especially missed. But just
as I could smell the meal awaiting me, I stopped short. I could hear my mother crying.

  Peeking my head around the corner, I confirmed that yes, she was indeed crying as she put out the food she had prepared for me. Seeing her like that had me torn between wanting to know whatever was going on, and not wanting to embarrass her in the process. It was terrible to see my kind, sweet, loving mother so sad.

  I made some noise outside the door to alert her that I was coming, deciding that protecting her from the embarrassment of being surprised by my entrance was more important than insisting she tell me what was wrong. At least for now. When I walked in, she had already composed herself.

  “Hi, Mom. The food smells incredible.”

  “I was just putting it out for you. Dig in and eat up, my dear. How do you like the house so far?”

  “It’s very beautiful.” I conceded.

  I watched to see if she would say anything more, wondering if she was at all aware I had just been talking to Gordon. But she continued to busy herself around the kitchen, and I still felt a little guilty for having walked into his room uninvited. So I didn’t say anything either, instead looking down at my plate as I ate the delicious meal she had prepared for me, all the while wondering about the cause of her tears.

  Chapter Three

  Caleb

  As I pulled through the gates and down the driveway to my father’s home, I tried to fight back the sense of dread building up within me. The house looked exactly as it always had, but returning to my childhood home provided me with anything but comfort.

  Once upon a time, the old man and I had been close, but those days were long gone now, washed away with my mother’s suicide. Ever since then, it had seemed I could do nothing right in his eyes. I was an embarrassment. A disappointment. Never the son he believed he should have.