Page 2 of Persuaded

“Tomorrow, then.” The prospect of telling his father about Finn, about his radical new plans for the future, had crouched like a storm on the horizon all summer. And no matter how hard he’d ignored it, it hadn’t gone away. He swallowed. “I’ll tell him tomorrow.”

“Will you—?”

“I don’t want to think about it now. I only want to think about us, Finn. Tell me about us.”

Finn’s expression warmed. “This is just the start for us, man. It’s like... It’s like we’re at the beginning of a road and it’s rolling out ahead of us, long and straight, and so fucking bright. I can see it, man. I cantasteit.”

“Finn...” Joshua pulled him down next to him, touched their foreheads together. He wanted so much to see Finn’s gilded road, but when he closed his eyes all he could see was thegathering storm. “I love you,” he whispered urgently. “I love you more than anything, Finn. More thaneverything. Remember that.”

Finn smiled against his lips, trailed his fingers through Joshua’s hair and kissed him long and sweet. He smelled like sun cream and the ocean, like fresh air and summer. “This is the beginning, Josh. This is the beginning of everything for us.”

But of course it wasn’t. It was the end. It was the last golden hour of the last perfect day.

Chapter Two

Now

Autumn arrived with precocious zeal.

Cold rain rattled leaves from the trees, herding them into disconsolate piles in the old orchard. Joshua ignored them as he slammed the door on his rusted Honda Civic. Tucking his fingers into the pocket of his sweatshirt, he gazed up at Hanworth Hall. The Newton family mansion brooded in the dank fall morning, gazing back at him with vacant eyes. Many years ago he’d called this place home, but it had stopped being that long before he’d left and now it just looked austere and empty. He wished he cared more than he did.

His father’s Town Car lurked farther along the gravel drive, the waiting driver’s face lit blue by the screen of his smart phone. Joshua supposed his brother was using the car now. He shouldn’t have been surprised; like their father, Michael Newton had never suffered from an excess of shame. He noticed Aunt Ruth’s car parked farther down the drive and suppressed a sigh. It was a genuine gathering of the clan, then. With a sinking feeling, he made himself head inside.

The front door wasn’t locked, which was lucky because the staff had all been dismissed—more collateral damage from his father’s misdeeds—and Newtons didn’t generally carry keys to the family pile. He supposed the Realtor had one now and the thought provoked a grim smile. Michael would hate that.

The door opened silently on well-oiled hinges and Joshua closed it just as quietly, giving himself time to adjust to beingback. It had been, what, seven years since he’d last set foot inside? It looked different now, just a shell of what it had once been. All the pictures and furniture in the hall had been packed up and shipped out, nothing personal remained. Soon, Hanworth Hall would be owned by someone else. The rooms he’d played in as a child would belong to other children and the grounds he’d once loved would be walked by other feet.

He felt some regret, now that he was here, but not a great deal. Mostly he just hoped that the sale would write off the bulk of the debt—at least the part owed to the innocent creditors—even if it couldn’t wipe away the disgrace.

Cold, he hunched deeper into his sweatshirt, running a hand through his mist-damp hair. He would have rather been anywhere but here: home in his one-bedroom cottage, at the school listening to seventh-grade violinists screech through “Au Clare De Lune,” or even working a shift at Dee’s for a little extra cash—anywhere but in this house with these people. But duty was duty, so here he was ready to do what needed to be done.

Voices drifted from the drawing room. Bracing himself, he headed toward the sound, his boots clumping softly on the polished wood floor. Four heads turned when he stepped into the room.

“Joshua.” Michael managed to make the greeting sound like an insult.

He nodded toward his brother, then to Isabelle, Michael’s wife. “Hello.” He smiled at Aunt Ruth who watched him with sympathy.

“Mr. Newton?” The other man, the one he didn’t recognize, stepped forward. “I’m Tim Dexter, the Realtor.” He held out his hand to shake. “Pleasure to meet you.”

Joshua smiled, glanced around at the others. “So...?”

“We’ve agreed on a buyer,” Michael announced, pleased. “We both need to sign the papers. Just a formality.”

“He’s a lawyer,” Isabelle offered. “The buyer. So it’s going to someone reputable.”

Joshua huffed a laugh. “You mean, unlike its previous owner?”

Isabelle glared. Michael just gave him an icy look, dismissive in its lack of passion, as if Joshua and his opinions didn’t matter anymore. Not that they ever had. “You only need to sign,” Michael said.

“I have no problem signing. The sooner we sell the better.”

Dexter led him over to the table and started setting out papers, little crosses marking where his signature was required. “All the proceeds will go to the creditors I’m afraid.”

Quite right, Joshua thought, but kept his thoughts to himself as he picked up the pen.

Aunt Ruth drifted past him, resting a supportive hand on his shoulder. To Michael, she said, “You’ll be living in the city now?”

“In the Park Avenue condo, yes. It’ll be easier to keep an eye on the business from there. I never understood our father’s obsession with this place; it’s so remote and the town is nothing.” With a smirk, he glanced at Isabelle. “It’s hardly the Hamptons.”

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