he liked it or not and I knew he would be buying and selling, seeking out power like he needed it to live. But he was holding his secrets close to his chest and I just hadn't caught him yet.
With a mixture of irritation and pride, I placed my tablet down on the metal table beside me, looking up beyond the white parasol I sat beneath towards the blaring sun. It was always hot in this part of the world and I'd grown tired of the lack of variation to the climate soon after arriving here. But I was stuck without alternative. It wasn't safe for me to travel while so many authorities hunted for me. And though I'd isolated myself in a country without an extradition agreement with the US in the ten years since I’d fled, I was certain bribes would be made or special operatives sent in to retrieve me if my location was discovered.
So I was left a prisoner in my own meagre, twelve bedroom home. In comparison to what most people had, I supposed it was somewhat luxurious, but when I tallied it against all I used to own, it felt awfully flat.
"Branston?" I called, placing down my empty scotch glass and looking around for my man servant to bring me another.
He wasn't anywhere in sight and when he didn't arrive after I called for a second time, I released a frustrated breath and rose from my chair to fix my own glass.
Honestly, what was the point in keeping house staff if they couldn't even keep a glass topped up?
I strode into the house, walking into the wide living area with the vaulted ceiling and the mezzanine level above it. I was bored of this place. Bored of existing in stasis with no power and even less friends. I needed to be free of this prison I'd built for myself and the key to that was in finding my son’s money. In fact, I hadn’t even been able to lock his location down since he’d graduated from Yale. It was infuriating.
I walked across the white marble floor towards the drinks cabinet, but fell still before I reached it as the large armchair placed by the window came into view and I found a woman sitting there. She held a glass of my favourite and most expensive scotch in her hand, the bottle on the floor beside her as she looked away from me out at the view.
She was wearing a white dress and was sitting sideways in the chair, her long bronze legs hanging over the arm of it with black stiletto Louboutins on her feet. She must have heard my approach, but she didn’t turn as she continued to look out of the window, a cascade of blonde curls hiding her face from me.
I fell still, the hairs along the back of neck prickling as I looked at her. This compound was utterly secure. There was no way she'd just wandered in here past the ten foot walls and guarded gates. No way any of my men would have just let her in either. So how in the hell had she-
"Hello, Troy," the woman purred, turning her head towards me and my composure almost slipped as my gaze fell on the face of the Rivers girl.
The one who had corrupted my boy, the one who had taken everything I'd built and twisted it against me. She should have been dead a long time ago, but there she sat, drinking scotch worth more than she could possibly guess and looking me dead in the eye like she thought we were equals. Or worse than that, like she thought she was better than me.
"Saint?" I asked, knowing he must be here too, my voice cold and flat, nothing at all to show that I had been taken off guard by this arrival in my home.
My son stepped out from the doorway in the corner, his face harder than I recalled, features stronger now that he was older. There wasn't a trace of the weak child I'd once known in him and as I watched him approach me at a casual pace, I saw the man I'd always hoped he would become looking back at me and a smile touched my lips as I looked him over.
"I see you took my advice," I said as I adjusted my watch, pressing down on the emergency alarm which would activate silently and bring my men rushing to my location.
It