Always Mine (The Barrington Billionaires, Book 1) (3 page)

I
can’t believe
I thought he’d care. What a pompous jackass. “I always get what I want.” Well, not this time, buddy. My mother didn’t let anything stop her from following her dreams, and I won’t let someone like you stop me from building a tribute to her.
As she drove out of Boston and into one of the surrounding suburbs, she rehashed her heated meeting with Mr.
I’ll make sure it’s at least considered
Barrington again and again. Jerk.

I should have kept my cool. I should have spoken more about my mother and the reason the museum needs to be where I’m building it.

Not that he probably would have cared. Bastard.

I was hoping to do this the easy way, but it looks like I have to go with plan B.

Obstacles are opportunities if you’re brave enough to take them on.
That was what her mother had always said. Emily refused to give up. Determination was in her genes just as surely as art was.

Her mother, Wendy Harris, had lived a life that had inspired everyone who knew her. Born blind, she hadn’t let that stop her from becoming an artist, a painter at that. Her works were uniquely tactile. She’d pushed the limits of what was considered a painting and had developed a technique that brought a three-dimensional element to her artwork.

Emily’s own appreciation for art had been acquired at her mother’s knee. They’d spent countless afternoons in museums. Her mother would ask Emily to describe a painting, first with what she saw, but then with greater detail about how the painting made her feel. Eventually Emily began to use clay to make the paintings her mother loved even more accessible to her.

Her mother had dreamed of creating a museum where people could run their hands over every piece of artwork displayed. A place where those who could not see were not banned from experiencing masterpieces. Nothing would stop Emily from making that museum a reality.

Determination made it possible for Emily to consider the unthinkable. Plan B was bold and more than a little underhanded. To some degree she felt like a snitch, but she steeled herself against her doubts. She was desperate.

She hit redial on her phone. A woman answered. “Mrs. Barrington?”

“Emily? Do call me Sophie. Mrs. Barrington sounds like I’m one hundred years old.” Sophie’s next comment was directed to her husband, Dale. “It’s the woman from New Hampshire who is building a museum.” She paused as if listening to a response from her husband before saying, “Did you make it to Boston?”

“I did. I’m actually driving back to my hotel in Newton.”

“That’s only a town over from us.”

I know
. “What a coincidence,” Emily said instead.

“My husband and I are just about to have lunch. If you have time, we’d love to meet you in person. You could tell us all about your meeting with our son.”

“That sounds wonderful,” Emily said with just the right amount of pleased surprise.

Emily pulled into a highway rest area and typed the address into her GPS. She told Sophie she’d be there in less than an hour. After hanging up, she stayed in her car, taking deep breaths and telling herself she was doing the right thing.

When her nerves had settled somewhat, she called her best friend for support. It rang through to voice mail the first time, but Emily called back.
Come on, Celeste. Pick up.

When Celeste finally answered, she said, “I’m in a meeting with a client. Can we talk later?”

“This is an emergency.”

“I need to take this call. Tim, could you take over for a minute? I’ll be right back,” Celeste said. A moment later, she asked, “Did you break down on the side of the road? Are you hurt?”

“My car is fine. I’m fine.”

“Then what’s the emergency? I’m meeting with a new client right now who has flown in from New York. This could be big, Em.”

Emily instantly felt badly about interrupting her, but they’d been best friends since kindergarten and, although Celeste had moved to Boston after college, they’d kept that friendship close by staying involved in each other’s lives. “Remember how I told you I was going to go see Asher Barrington? I just left that meeting. It didn’t go well. So, I’m moving onto Plan B.”

“Wait, is that the crazy idea you had about befriending his parents and guilting him into moving his facility?”

“It’s not crazy. Some people listen to their parents. It’s worth a shot, anyway.”

“Don’t do this. I know a few lawyers. I’ll call one tomorrow.”

“I don’t have money for a big-city lawyer. All my money is tied up in the museum. You know that.”

Celeste sighed. “I could try to talk one of them into doing it pro bono.”

Emily gripped the steering wheel tightly. “You think they’d take on B&H for free?”

Celeste made a frustrated sound. “No, probably not. You really went to see Asher Barrington?”

“Yes, and you would have been proud of me. I didn’t let him intimidate me. I made it clear I wouldn’t sell my land at any price.”

“That must not have gone over well. What did he say?”

“He said he always gets what he wants.”

“Oh, boy. And then?”

“I told him he wouldn’t this time. And I walked out.”

“And now you’re off to meet his parents?”

Emily looked around at the parking lot she hadn’t yet built up the nerve to leave. “It’s the only way, Celeste. He doesn’t care who he hurts or even about the facility he’s building up there. He didn’t even know how far along the project was. Maybe he won’t care what his parents think either, but what other choice do I have? The museum is so close to being ready to open its doors. I can’t let him take that from me, from everyone who would enjoy it.”

“Em, this has trouble written all over it. I don’t like it.”

“That’s not good. I was hoping you could give me one of your pep talks. I’m more nervous than I thought I’d be.”

“That’s because you know this is wrong. Emily, you don’t have a manipulative bone in your body. You’ve never been a good liar. Oh my God, remember that time you accidentally walked out of a store with an extra item in your cart and almost got arrested because you had to return it and confess? Anyone else would have left it there or taken it with them and not thought twice about it, but you couldn’t. It’s part of what I love about you, but it’s also why this will never work.”

Emily put her car in drive and pulled back out onto the highway. “I can’t be that person right now, Celeste. I have to be stronger than that. Tell me this can work. Even if you don’t believe it. Just say it. I need to hear it.”

After a long quiet moment, Celeste said, “If anyone can get someone’s parents to love them, it’s you, Emily. Just be careful. Yes, your mother wanted you to finish her dream, but your safety would have mattered to her more than any building ever could.”

“I know what I’m doing.”

“You’re way out of your league, Em, and I’m saying this as a friend who loves you like a sister. You’re not a fighter; you never have been. Do you remember when Donnie Allan tried to rough you up for your lunch money? I told you to punch him in the face. You sold brownies from the end of your driveway for a week to raise enough money so you could both have lunch.”

“Yes, and it worked. I gave him the money, but I was firm that it was a one-time deal. He never bothered me again after that.”

“That’s because I threatened to tell everyone he wore his sister’s underpants if he didn’t leave you alone.”

“Oh my God, you never said a word.”

Celeste made a strangled sound. “You’re a nice person, Em. There’s nothing wrong with that. You like to believe there is good in everyone, but sometimes there isn’t. Donnie was a bully. Your way doesn’t win against that. I’m afraid nice won’t win with B&H either. I wish I had the connections to help you with this, but I don’t.”

A lump of emotion clogged Emily’s throat and made it difficult to get the next words out. “I don’t have a Plan C. This is it. If I go home now, it’s over. I’m doing this, Celeste. Even if it’s the craziest idea you’ve ever heard, tell me it’ll work. I need my best friend to believe in me right now.”

In a tone that revealed how much Emily’s plea had moved Celeste, she said, “You’ve got this, Emily. Call me after you win his family over.”

After a long
jog along the Charles River, Asher took the elevator up to his penthouse apartment in Beacon Hill. He downed a glass of water and checked the messages on his phone while heading toward his bedroom. His mother had called but hadn’t left a voice message.

He threw his phone on his bed and stripped. He’d shower, have something quick to eat, then deal with whatever manner of family crisis she wanted his help with this time. As the oldest of six children, there was always something.

He turned on the shower and stepped beneath the hot spray. Six children. If he’d ever doubted his parents’ sanity, the number of children they’d decided to have was evidence enough they were both crazy. Five boys and one girl. He wasn’t sure if his parents had stopped having children because they finally had a little girl, or if more hadn’t been possible, but either way they had done more than their fair share in populating the planet.

Asher turned his back so the water massaged his shoulders. It had been a very long day, but he’d done what he’d set out to do. He’d made contact with the man Dominic had directed him to, and if all went as planned the rebels would have a nasty fight on their hands very soon. It was an expensive and dangerous course to take, but he’d been down that road in other countries and won. Being a hammer had its advantages. He won again and again because he’d built a reputation for smashing through whatever was in his way. In business, few people had the nerve to stand up to him and those who did were quickly, decisively, shown why they shouldn’t attempt it again.

Everything would be a hell of a lot easier if he could apply the rules of business to his private life. Both his parents and siblings were as frustrating as trying to walk across a floor covered with marbles. He’d fought for a life where things made sense and he was in control, but he had no control over his family.

He lathered his hair and thought of something more pleasant than his impending conversation with his parents. A vivid image of the woman who had come to his office earlier that day filled his thoughts.

His first view had been her cute little ass waving in the air as she’d been on her knees digging for something beneath a chair. Her skirt had ridden up, revealing tight thighs he’d wanted to run a hand between. He closed his eyes and images of her brought a lusty smile to his face.

He had a healthy sexual appetite, and he’d found Emily Harris very attractive. She was a small thing, shorter than his usual taste. He pictured how easily it would be to lift her so she could wrap her legs around him as he thrust up into her.

There had been nothing suggestive about their meeting, but his cock hardened with anticipation as he replayed their exchange in his mind. Women didn’t normally stand up to him, and she had done so fearlessly.

When she’d stood there, her eyes flashing and chest heaving, he’d found himself in the unique situation of wanting a woman who appeared to have no interest in him personally. He stepped out of the shower, dried off, and called a member of his team who handled security checks. It wasn’t unusual for him to obtain background checks on people he dealt with.

“How deep do you want us to dig?” his man asked him.

“I want everything,” Asher answered abruptly and hung up. Knowledge was power, and he didn’t have any problem using it to his advantage. He did hope, however, she didn’t give in to him too easily. He met his eyes in the mirror above the bathroom sink. It had been too long since he’d felt this type of anticipation about anything. He saw the light of excitement in his expression and shook his head in amusement.

Emily held the promise of being a tantalizing distraction. He liked that she was passionate about the little museum project she mentioned. If being with her was as good as his cock believed, he’d gift her a piece of property elsewhere, possibly even help her fund her museum. He’d always been a generous lover.

Women didn’t turn him down, and Emily would be no different. She was feisty and self-assured; he couldn’t wait to see how that translated in the bedroom. His bed to be specific.

Asher dressed in boxer briefs and lounge pants and heated the meal left for him by his housekeeper. He answered emails and read over a few documents in preparation for the next day. When he had no other excuse for delaying any longer, he called his mother. It was only after he’d dialed the number that he checked the time. Shit. It was nearly ten. His mother was probably already asleep, but she’d worry if she saw he’d called, so he stayed on the line.

“It’s late, Asher, but it’s good to hear your voice. You’ve been so busy lately. I miss you,” she said warmly.

Another mother might have said those same words with the intention of making her child feel guilty. Sophie Barrington never had an ulterior motive. She said it simply because she meant it. His mother was the most loving person he’d ever met. She put the happiness of others above her own. He’d like to admire that trait, but it had prevented her from being able to stop his father’s career from imploding. She’d given up, and he would never understand that decision. Still, that didn’t stop him from loving her. “Time got away from me, but I didn’t want to not call in case it was something important.”

“It could have waited, but I did want to speak with you. What did you think of Emily Harris?”

Nothing I could say to my mother,
Asher thought. He pushed away the image of her perfectly rounded ass as she’d bent to retrieve something from beneath a chair in Ryan’s office. “Why do you ask?”

“Thank you for seeing her today. From the first time I heard it, her story moved me. Your father felt the same way.”

“How well do you know her, Mom?”

“Not very, but she spent this afternoon with us, and she is just as sweet and earnest in person as she sounded on the phone. I hated to see her leave. She gave us a painting her mother had made. It’s the most incredible thing. When you look at it, you miss the beauty of it. It’s all one color. But if you close your eyes and run your hands over it, it’s a masterpiece. I cried. Her mother was blind; did she tell you? Remarkable.”