Page 138 of Mercy (The Sins Trilogy 3)
An ugly feeling settles in my gut. He can ask all he wants, but I’m done trying to fix things.
I shower and put on business casual. Ivy’s still sleeping. I kiss her temple and tuck her in before walking out. The pilot’s ready to take off as soon as I’m done with Edgar.
Back to our lives. To get married. Tie ourselves to each other in every way possible. Then live happily ever after.
It almost feels surreal—like such an ending can’t happen in real life.
Except it is happening. I just have to get the hell out of here with Ivy.
“I’m taking the Escalade. Won’t be long,” I say.
“That’s fine,” Bobbi says. “I’ll have Ivy fed and caffeinated.” Then she tilts her head at me. “Listen, I know you said you wanted to head home today, but if your schedule allows, maybe take Ivy to New Orleans later today and head home tomorrow. Might cheer both of you up after yesterday, and she might enjoy jazz.”
Huh. I hadn’t considered that, but it sounds like a great idea. New Orleans is a world unto itself, full of fabulous food and music. Just the thing after last night’s drama. “That sounds great. Thanks.” I flash her a grin and drive off.
Blackwood Energy isn’t far from Edgar’s place. I reach it under ten minutes, driving well over the speed limit. Its headquarters isn’t housed in some office building downtown. Instead, it’s a two-story structure, spread out over a huge tract of land.
I’ve been here twice—before I was banished to Europe. Father liked to show me the campus, the lush green lawns, the people who worked inside. And I liked to come by, to absorb and be in awe of what my family built—feel proud I was going to be part of it when I grew up.
“This isn’t a company that merely makes a profit for the family. It provides for thousands of people, and their families. Provides value to customers who need to heat their homes, fuel their cars.”
That legacy is important to my father, and my grandfather and all the Blackwood men before us. Because like he said, it wasn’t just about money. He said one day, I’d be leading the company together with my brothers. And we’d expand it, share the prosperity with our workers and customers.
Well, that will never happen. The company’s now under Edgar’s capable management. Harry is a perpetual student, and the last thing he wants is responsibility.
The lobby is pleasant, with gleaming pale gray marble tiles and high ceilings with skylights. Potted flowers and greens around a waterfall add to the ambiance of wealth and luxury.
The décor is same as before, but the feel is slightly different. Another layer of prosperous gloss that speaks of a company well run and well managed.
This could’ve been where I started work every morning, but I’m not too upset it’ll never be mine. I’ve had eighteen years to adjust to the idea. And Edgar’s doing a marvelous job on his own.
One of the smartly dressed receptionists smiles up at me when I approach their desk. “How may I help you?”
“Anthony Blackwood, here to see Edgar Blackwood. He’s expecting me.”
Her smile doesn’t falter. If she’s curious why a disowned son is visiting, she doesn’t show it. “This way, please.”
She takes me to a conference room on the second level. “Coffee or tea, sir?” she asks.
“No, thanks.” I don’t plan to visit long. Bobbi’s idea is perfect. Ivy would love New Orleans. An overnight trip will give both of us some time to get away from the hectic activities of planning the wedding and relax.
The receptionist leaves, closing the door behind her. Unlike most corporate meeting rooms, it doesn’t have wheeled executive chairs and a table for laptops and notepads. Instead, it’s luxurious, with lush, thick carpet in gray, comfortable, plush chairs and a low oak table. The walls are painted green, and a few potted plants make the mood more casual than formal.
All in all, unassuming and friendly. Perhaps the conversation Edgar wants to have is exactly that. He probably knows I won’t be staying in Tempérane much longer.
When the door opens, I turn around with a smile. It freezes when I see Father instead of Edgar.
