LITMIR.BIZ

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want?”

      One corner of his grandfather’s mouth lifted slightly, then fell as if his strength had drained away in a rush. “Straight to the point. I’ve always liked that in you, boy.” His words slurred. “You’re right. Might as well get on with it.”

      He straightened a bit in the bed. “I had a heart attack. Serious, but I’m not dead yet. Still, this little episode—”

      “Little!” Christina exclaimed.

      James ignored her outburst. “—has warned me it’s time to get my affairs in order. Secure the future of the Blackstone legacy.”

      He nodded toward the suit standing nearby. “John Canton—my lawyer.”

      Aiden gave the man’s shifting stance a good once-over. Ah, the man behind the phone call. “He must pay you well if you’re willing to lie about life and death.”

      “He merely indulged me under the circumstances,” James answered for Canton, displaying his usual unrepentant attitude. Whatever it takes to get the job done. The words James had repeated so often in Aiden’s presence replayed through his mind.

      “You’re needed at home, Aiden,” his grandfather said. “It’s your responsibility to be here, to take care of the family when I die.”

      “Again?” Aiden couldn’t help saying.

      Once more his grandfather’s lips lifted in a weak semblance of the smirk Aiden remembered too well. “Sooner than I like to think. Canton—”

      Aiden frowned as his grandfather’s head eased back against the pillows, as if he simply didn’t have the energy to keep up his diabolical power-monger role anymore.

      “As your grandfather told you, I’m his lawyer,” Canton said as he reached out to shake Aiden’s hand, his grip forceful, perhaps overcompensating for his thin frame. “I’ve been handling your grandfather’s affairs for about five years now.”

      “You have my condolences,” Aiden said.

      Canton paused, blinking behind his glasses at Aiden’s droll tone.

      James lifted his head, irritation adding to the strain on his lined face. “There are things that need to be taken care of, Aiden. Soon.”

      His own anger rushed to replace numb curiosity. “You mean, you’re going to arrange everything so it will continue just the way you want it.”

      This time James managed to jerk forward in a shadow of his favorite stance: that of looming over the unsuspecting victim. “I’ve run this family for over fifty years. I know what’s best. Not some slacker who runs away at the first hint of responsibility. Your mother—”

      He fell back with a gasp, shaking as his eyes closed.

      “Christina,” Canton said, his sharp tone echoing in the room.

      Christina crossed to the bed and checked James’s pulse on the underside of his fragile wrist. Aiden noticed the tremble of her fingers with their blunt-cut nails. So she wasn’t indifferent. Did she actually care for the old buzzard? Somehow he couldn’t imagine it. Then she held James’s head while he swallowed some more water. Her abundant hair swung forward to hide her features, but her movements were efficient and sure.

      Despite wanting to remain unmoved, Aiden’s heart sped up. “You should be in a hospital,” he said.

      “They couldn’t make him stay once your grandfather refused further treatments. He said if he was going to die, he would die at Blackstone Manor,” Canton said. “Christina was already in residence and could follow the doctor’s orders....”

      His grandfather breathed deeply, then rested back against the pillows, his mouth drawn, eyes closed.

      “Can you?” Aiden asked her.

      She glanced up, treating him to another glimpse of creamy, flawless skin and chocolate eyes flickering with worry.

      “Of course,” she said, her tone matter-of-fact. “Mr. Blackstone isn’t going to die. But he will need significant recovery time. I’d prefer him to stay in the hospital for a bit longer, but...” Her shrug said what can you do when a person’s crazy?

      Something about her rubbed Aiden wrong. She didn’t belong in this room or with these people. Her beauty and grace shouldn’t be sullied by his grandfather’s villainous legacy. But that calm, professional facade masked her feelings in this situation. Was she just here for the job? Or another reason? Once more, Aiden felt jealous of her, wishing he could master his own emotions so completely.

      But he was out of practice in dealing with the old man.

      This time, Christina retreated to the shadows beyond the abundant purple bed curtains. Close, but not hovering. Though keenly aware of her presence, Aiden could barely make out her form as she leaned against the wall with her arms wrapped around her waist. It unsettled him, distracted him. Right now, he needed all his focus on the battle he sensed was coming.

      “Your grandfather is concerned for the mill—” Canton said.

      “I don’t give a damn what happens to that place. Tear it down. Burn it, for all I care.”

      His grandfather’s jaw tightened, but he made no attempt to defend the business where he’d poured what little humanity he possessed, completely ignoring the needs of his family. The emotional needs, at least.

      “And the town?” Canton asked. “You don’t care what happens to the people working in Blackstone Mills? Generations of townspeople, your mother’s friends, kids you went to school with, Marie’s nieces and nephews?”

      Aiden clamped his jaw tight. He didn’t want to get involved, but as the lawyer spoke, faces flashed through his mind’s eye. The mill had stood for centuries, starting out as a simple cotton gin. Last Aiden had heard, it was a leading manufacturer in cotton products, specializing in high-end linens. James might be a bastard, but his insistence on quality had kept the company viable in a shaky economy. Aiden jammed a rough hand through his damp hair, probably making the spiky top stand on end.

      Without warning, he felt a familiar surge of rebellion. “I don’t want to take over. I’ve never wanted to.” He strode across the plush carpet to stare out the window into the storm-shadowed distance. Tension tightened the muscles along the back of his neck and skull. Familial responsibility wasn’t his thing—anymore. He’d handed that job over to his brothers a long time ago.

      Aiden realized he was shifting minutely from one foot to the other. Creeping in underneath the turbulence was a constant awareness of Christina’s presence, like a sizzle under his skin, loosening his control over his other emotions inch by inch. She drew him, kept part of his attention even when he was talking to the others. How had she come to be here? How long had she been here? Had she ever found a place to belong? The heightened emotion increased the tension in his neck. A dull headache started to form.

      “You knew something like this was coming, considering your age—” Aiden gestured back toward the bed “—you should have sold. Or turned the business over to someone else. One of my brothers.”

      “It isn’t their duty,” James insisted. “As firstborn, it’s yours—and way past time you learned your place.”

      As if he could sense the rage starting to boil deep inside Aiden, Canton stepped in. “Mr. Blackstone wants the mill to remain a family institution that will continue to provide jobs and a center for the town. The only potential buyers we have want to tear it down and sell off the land.”

      Aiden latched on to the family institution part. “Ah, the lasting name of Blackstone. Planned a monument yet?”

      A weary yet insistent voice drifted from the bed. “I will do what needs to be done. And so will you.”

      “How will you manage that? I walked out that door once. I’m more than happy to do it again.”

      “Really? Do you think that’s the best

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