Page 28 of Kane
Mama stood frozen, watching him fuck the girl, his eyes closed and his features slack.
Kane couldn’t think of anything more awful until his father opened his eyes and met her gaze. He didn’t even break his rhythm. “Get back in the house, Viv. You can join in later tonight.”
His mother didn’t hesitate. She turned on her heel and went back into the house as instructed.
The next morning, he spied the dark-haired girl leaving his parents’ bedroom. Her eye makeup smudged and smeared, she looked like a raccoon or a heroin addict. She walked slowly out of the house, gaze locked on the ground, carrying her chunky heels in her hand.
Mama left the bedroom moments later, her long, silky red robe cinched around her waist, an unlit cigarette between her fingers. Face drawn. Eyes empty. She, too, moved slowly.
He assumed she didn’t see him, but she spoke before stepping into the backyard. “Start the coffee, baby, would you?” She didn’t wait for his answer, and within seconds, he heard the snick of her lighter right outside the door.
In a small blessing, Malcolm didn’t show his face. He wasn’t ready to face his father after the spectacle he’d made last night. Sadly, it wasn’t anything new. The man did what he wanted when he wanted. Always had. The twenty-something years his mother had devoted to him meant little to nothing.Shewas expected to be faithful, of course, but Malcolm could stick his dick anywhere wet and warm.
With a sigh, he pulled the filters out of the cabinet and got the pot ready to brew. Despite its age, the 1970s Mr. Coffee model worked fast. The kitchen filled with the aroma of coffee right as the ding of the toaster announced his Pop Tart was ready to burn the tips of his fingers.
He had his cup of caffeine in one hand and his breakfast in the other when something red and shiny caught the corner of his eye. His father’s birthday presents still sat untouched on the kitchen table. He paused, thinking about the effort his mom had put in to select the right gifts, and dollars to donuts, Malcolm wouldn’t give a shit one way or another.
This was club life. And he wanted no part of it.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Amanda
Nerves fluttered in Amanda’s stomach as she ran her hands over the darts of her Dior business dress. It was the best she owned, and still, she had to remind herself she wasn’t a little girl playing dress up.
Her gaze swept over the building in front of her. The outside of the Berringer Group’s main office resembled a scaled down version of an old-money mansion. It stood two stories high, with thick white columns on either side of the dark oak front door. The entrance was decorated with a tasteful evergreen holiday wreath. Wide red ribbons wrapped the cylinders all the way to the top. Tasteful Southern Christmas elegance.
She had an appointment with Jared Berringer, the biggest name in Atlanta development—one of the biggest in the Southeast region—but he was still only a person. She knew how to handle people, and she knew how to handle her business.
She refused to be felled by her own insecurities.
Lifting her chin, she opened the door and walked confidently to the front desk. “Amanda Griffin for Mr. Berringer, please.”
The slight man behind the counter glanced up from his computer and tapped the side of his headset. “Yes, ma’am. He’s expecting you. Please come this way.”
The inside of the building looked even more impressive than the façade. Her heels clicked on the high-grade marble floors, polished to a near-blinding shine, as they headed toward a wrought-iron double staircase that curled up around either side of the reception desk—a desk which, if she was not mistaken, featured her favorite sarsaparilla stain and a white Silestone countertop veined in black.
She followed the young man up the stairs, down a deserted hall to the corner office. He opened the door and gestured her through before nodding his farewell.
The photos she’d seen of Berringer hadn’t done him justice. Even a casual observer wouldn’t miss those George Clooney good looks. But anyone paying close attention would realize, in him, they’d found the whole package. He broadcasted it subtly. In the quality of his suit, the shine of his shoes. In the way he held himself, poised, serene and with nothing to prove. This was a man at the top of his game.
He greeted her with a congenial smile and a handshake just firm enough to tell her he wouldn’t judge her worth on the fact she was a woman.
“Ms. Griffin.” He gestured for her to sit in one of the two chairs in front of his desk. Surprisingly, he took the seat next to her, rather than the position of power behind the heavy furniture.
She liked him already. “Amanda, please.”
“And you’ll call me Jared. I understand you’re here with a proposal from Cooper Construction. I’m intrigued.”
“I’ve heard you’ve lost your builder in the Decatur development.”
His eyebrows shot up. GeorgiaSouth’s bankruptcy was very hush-hush. She only knew about it because Mike was good friends with the owner.
“We’d like to step in and take over for them. Cooper isn’t the biggest outfit in town, but we have a good reputation and do quality work.”
Jared crossed his leg at the knee and relaxed into the soft leather chair. “I met Charlie a few times over the years. He struck me as a good man.”
She swallowed. “The best,” she murmured.