Page 30 of Wild King
“A million? You might have come in low, to be honest. Twelve weeks is the least amount of time I’m going to need to clean up his reputation. I’m practically waiting for other women to come out of the woodwork now that the first one has gone public.”
“Do you really think he’s a serial sexual harasser?”
Shaking my head, I answer, “I’m not even sure that’s what happened. Sexual harassment, I mean. But I can’t imagine she’s the first employee he’s slept with.”
“Doesn’t that make it sexual harassment?”
“Not necessarily. Maybe what he says is true—that she wanted to go out with him as much as he wanted to with her. It’s against his company’s rules, but does that make it sexual harassment?”
“You know most people will think it is, Salem.”
I shrug, knowing all too well what most people will think. “Okay, but if there’s no threat of retribution if she doesn’t go out with him, would it still be sexual harassment? Or is it merely a case of poor choices on both their parts?”
My sister slaps the top of my hand and laughs. “This is why you’re the best. Confuse and obfuscate. Make people question what they thought was right. Go get ‘em, Salem!”
That’s not what I want to do with this client. I’d like to simply show the world the person I met down at that resort. He wasn’t perfect, but that Kellen wouldn’t be hated as public enemy number one.
“I guess I better get going. Thanks for letting me use your car.”
Ever stands up and pushes her chair into the table. “Thank that wonderful ex-husband of mine. He’s the reason I have a car just lying around for you to use. I swear I think my lawyer could have gotten him to give up that precious house of his if he pushed just a little harder.”
Her ex, a man I thought she’d be with forever, made the mistake of not forcing my sister to sign a prenup, and he paid in spades for that error in judgment when she caught him stepping out with his assistant. She loves to say that love makes people do stupid things. Obviously, that’s true for some people, but I’ve never been sure that’s the case for most.
“I’m just a phone call or text away, so let me know if you hear anything I need to know.”
She grabs one of my suitcases and I grab the heavier one before I take one last look around my apartment and head out. Twelve weeks from now, I hope to God I come back here triumphant after successfully cleaning up Kellen’s mess.
After an early afternoondrive up the Taconic Parkway with the beautiful spring scenery that lines the road, I make it to Kellen’s grandmother’s house in less than an hour. As I pull up the tree-lined driveway, I see a large gray stone home about half the size of Matthias King’s home. Beautifully kept, the house reminds me of a mansion near where I grew up in Virginia with its large front door and classical style.
I park my sister’s silver Mercedes and walk around the front of the house to admire the façade. Kellen must be used to something quite opulent if he thinks this is some kind of punishment.
“My grandparents loved this place,” Matthias says as he walks over toward me from where he’s parked his car. “It’s a beautiful home. I’m glad I never ended up renting it out like I planned to so we can use it for this purpose.”
He offers me his hand, and I shake it as I say, “It’s good to see you again, Matthias. Is Kellen here already?”
Every hint of a smile disappears with my question. “He is. Complained about the plan from the moment you left. I’m afraid he’s not taking it well.”
Hoping to ease his worries, I smile and say, “I’ve had much worse clients, so don’t despair yet.”
That gets me a tiny smile, and then he offers to take me on a tour of the inside of the house before he leaves. For the next ten minutes, we walk through a lovely home that’s been remodeled in the past few years. Matthias explains that it needed to be updated, so his father began fixing up the home a few years before his death.
His mention of yet another member of his family passing away recently makes me wonder if that’s another avenue I can explore in my efforts to fix Kellen’s situation. This family certainly has suffered its fair share of loss.
“When we were kids, my brothers and I would come here and spend weekends with our grandparents. They weren’t up to the job of handling five boys, so we pretty much ran wild whenever we came over.”
I smile at the image my brain concocts of the people I met running around this home as little boys. Their grandparents must have loved them very much to take all five of them at a time. My grandparents refused to let my brother stay over if theytook Ever and me for a night. They claimed the three of us were too much to handle.
“Let me show you to your room. I thought it would be best to give you the master suite, so your bedroom is the only one on the first floor,” Matthias says as we walk down the hall to the back of the house.
We stop at the last room, a large pale green bedroom with a four-poster bed and an en suite bathroom. The moment I walk into the room, I’m in love. Not only is there a desk area where I can work, but the bathroom has been completely remodeled with matching light green paint and a large white soaker tub sitting in the middle of the room. On the far wall, a glass enclosed shower offers the option for a quicker way to get clean.
“This is better than the last hotel room I stayed in. Your father had them do a beautiful job with this house, Matthias.”
With an appreciative smile, he nods at my compliment. “He wanted to make sure the updates impressed as much as the bones of the house still do. I had a realtor tell me I could sell this for a pretty penny, but the place means too much to me. Too many memories for me to let it go just yet.”
“It’s gorgeous. I can understand not wanting to part with a home like this,” I say as we walk back out to the public areas of the home.
Matthias stops in the kitchen and looks around at the work that’s been done in this room. Obviously completely updated, it has stainless steel appliances, a large island with a granite countertop in the center of the room, and a breakfast nook where a cute table and chairs give someone the chance to enjoy a meal surrounded by windows that look out onto a large backyard. Even better, the kitchen is entirely white with accents of yellow. It’s as if someone copied from my brain exactly what I’d love to have in a home of my own.