Page 5 of The Ruling Class
“He needs a doctor, Tessie.”
“So take him to a doctor.” I swallowed hard, feeling like I’d already lost. “Figure out what we need to do, whatIneed to do, and then bring himhome.”
“You can’t stay here, Tess.” Ivy reached for my hand. I jerked it back. “You’ve been taking care of him,” she continued softly. “Who’s been taking care of you?”
“I can take care of myself.”
The set of her jaw matched my own. “You shouldn’t have to.”
“She’s right, Bear.” I looked up to see Gramps standing in the doorway. “Don’t you worry about me, girlie,” he ordered. He was lucid—and intractable.
“You don’t have to do this, Gramps,” I told him. My words fell on deaf ears.
“You’re a good girl, Tess,” he said gruffly. He met my sister’s eyes and something passed unspoken between them. After a long moment, Ivy turned back to me.
“Until we get things settled, I want you to come back with me.” She held up a hand to cut off my objections. “I’ve talked to a school in DC. You start on Monday.”
CHAPTER 4
“I’d tell you that you can’t stay mad forever,” Ivy commented, “but I’m pretty sure you’d take that as a challenge.”
I hadn’t spoken to my sister once since we’d checked my grandfather into the facility in Boston. She kept telling me how nice it was, how highly thought of the specialists were, how often we could go to visit. None of that changed the fact that we left him there.Ileft him. He would wake up in the middle of the night, disoriented, and I wouldn’t be there. He would frantically start looking for the grandmother who’d died before I was even born, and I wouldn’t be there.
He would have good days, and I wouldn’t be there.
If the silent treatment was getting to Ivy, she showed no sign of it as we navigated the DC airport. Her heels clicked against the tile as she stepped off the escalator and glided into the kind of graceful power walk that made everyone else in the airport look twice and get out of her way. She paused for an instant when we came to a row of men in blacksuits holding carefully lettered signs.Chauffeurs.At the very end of the line was a man wearing a navy blue T-shirt and ripped jeans.
There was a hint of stubble on his suntanned face and a pack of cigarettes in his left hand. In his right hand he, too, held a carefully lettered sign. But instead of writing his client’s last name, he’d opted for:PAIN IN THE *%$&@.
Ivy stalked up to him and handed him her carry-on. “Cute.”
He smirked. “I thought so.”
She rolled her eyes. “Tess, meet Bodie. Hewasmy driver and personal assistant, but as of five seconds ago, he’s fired.”
“I prefer ‘Jack-of-All-Trades,’ ” Bodie interjected. “And I’m only fired until there’s a female you can’t sweet-talk or a law you won’t br—”
Ivy cut him off with an all-powerful glare. I mentally finished his sentence:I’m only fired until there’s a female you can’t sweet-talk or a law you won’tbreak. I darted a glance at Ivy, my eyebrows shooting up. What exactly did my sister do that she needed a chauffeur willing to break laws on her behalf?
Ivy ignored my raised brows and plowed on, unperturbed. “Now would be a good time to get our bags,” she told Bodie.
“You can get your own bags, princess,” Bodie retorted. “I’m fired.” He rocked back on his heels. “I will, however, help Tess here with hers out of the goodness of my heart.” Bodie didn’t wink at me or smirk, but somehow, I felt as if he’d done both. “I’m very philanthropic,” he added.
I didn’t reply, but I did let him help me with my bags. The cigarettes disappeared into his back pocket the moment my duffelscame into view. Muscles bulged under his T-shirt as he grabbed a bag in each hand.
He didn’t look like anyone’s chauffeur.
Ivy’s house loomed over the pavement, boxy and tall, with twin chimneys on either side. It seemed too big for one person.
“I live on the second floor,” Ivy clarified as she, Bodie, and I made our way into the house. “I work on the first.”
It was on the tip of my tongue to ask Ivy whatworkentailed, but I didn’t. My sister had always been mysteriously close-lipped about her life in Washington. Asking for details now would be taken as a sign of interest.
I’m not interested.
Stepping into an enormous foyer, I concentrated on the sight in front of me: dark wood floors and massive columns gave the expanse the look of a ballroom. To my left, there was an alcove lined with bay windows, and behind that, a hallway lined with doors.
“The closed doors go to the conference room and my office. Both are off-limits. The main kitchen is through there, but we mostly use it for entertaining.”
