Crestfield. The name alone evokes envy, fear or anger depending on who you’re talking to in Madison. They own almost half the town, and have the biggest everything in the entire county. It wouldn’t be a problem if they were permanent residents, but they’re not. It’s mere extravagance—all for show, adding to their theatrics when they come in town to raise hell.
I’ve heard the phrase, “It’s nothing personal. Business is business.” But destroying families and ruining lives isn’t business as usual. Messing with people’s livelihoods makes it personal.
Once I arrive at the Crestfield estate, I have to wait at the gate to be cleared by security. When I’m in, I can’t help but feel repulsed by the decadence of it all. The house and grounds are huge. The house alone is four times bigger than the community center. I’ll never understand how people can be so selfish and greedy.
I get out of my car and head toward the house when my phone starts to ring. I smile, when I see it’s Jenna. I slide my finger across the faceplate to answer the call.
“Hey, future hubby,” she giggles.
“Future wife,” I chuckle, playing along.
“So ... how’d your parents take the news?” she asks, a hint of nervousness in her voice.
“Great. They’re really excited,” I say. It’s half true.
“Really? Even your dad?” she asks in disbelief.
“He took it even better than my mom did,” I tell her, making my way up to the large French doors. I roll my eyes at the discreet camera above the door before ringing the bell.
“Better than your mom? What was wrong with your mom?” she asks, her pitch elevating slightly. I immediately regret my choice of words. Jenna picks up on almost everything. She’s like a bloodhound when someone’s hiding something. She’s good at reading people.
“My mom thinks it’s great,” I say, hoping to throw her off.
“You said better than your mom did. Meaning, your mom must have not taken it well,” she rattles off. “I thought your mom loved me? She’s against this?” she’s gone from five to ten on her panic scale.
“No, it wasn’t like that. She was just surprised, that’s all,” I sigh. I had to say “better.” That one little word triggered all this. The large doors have opened, and one of the Crestfields’ maid smiles warmly at me as she gestures for me to come in. I smile back to acknowledge her, and walk in.
“My parents and I are coming over for dinner tonight and your mom is totally against us getting married. This is terrible!” she says, her panic-o-meter rising with every syllable.
“Jenna. My mom loves you. She loves your parents. Dinner is going to be fantastic, I promise, but I’ve got to go. I’ll call you back in a few. Love you,” I say as I hang up the phone, despite her protests.
“Mr. Christopher Scott?” the maid asks, a little hesitant. I’ve known her for years, but she always asks as if she’s unsure of who I am.
“How are you, Ms. Alma?” I smile as she leads me up the large winding staircase.
“Wonderful. Would you like something to drink?” she asks right before we reach the door to Dex’s office.
“No, I’m fine,” I reply.
“Mr. Scott, Christopher,” she announces as we enter Dexter’s office, even though he can see me.
“I always feel like I should bow or something,” I say sardonically. I notice Ms. Alma cover her laugh by clearing her throat.
“A nod and a little courtesy would work just as well,” he responds dryly, barely glancing up from his computer screen.
“Will you be needing anything else, Mr. Crestfield?” she asks.
“That will be all. Thank you,” he says.
“Good to see you, Mr. Scott,” she says before leaving the room.
“You too,” I say, walking over to Dex’s desk.
“So what brings you here today, nephew? Long time, no hear from,” he says. I hear the amusement in his voice as he leans back in his large leather chair. I don’t understand why he always has to remind of me of our relationship, but I guess if it didn’t matter I wouldn’t be here.
“Kreuk Place. Just leave it alone. You guys own half the United States. Do you really need it?” I ask, exasperated.
He chuckles. “Why don’t you have a seat, Christopher,” he says, gesturing toward one of the chairs in front of his desk.
“I’m okay standing,” I tell him. I’m not going to sit and shoot the breeze with him. I just want him to leave Kreuk Place alone.
He frowns. “I’m sure Gwen has taught you better manners than that. When a host offers you a seat, you take it. Especially when you’re asking a favor of said host. You smile and grant the request,” he says smugly. I take a deep breath and sit down.
“So, how have you been?” he asks, as if we’re best friends. We’re cordial, distant relatives, at best. It didn’t always used to be this way. Ten years ago, after my grandmother died, Dex was sent to boarding school, and the traits that were reminiscent of the better half of his parents seemed to be left behind.
“Fantastic,” I say shortly.
“You haven’t been seeing Dr. Lyce,” he says with an accusatory tone. I fold my arms.
“My condition is neurological not psychological. I don’t understand the point of me going.”
“She’s a neuro-psychiatrist. It’s important that you see her in conjunction with—”
“Kreuk Place, Dex. That’s why I’m here,” I interrupt him. He’s getting off the subject, and I don’t plan on being here all day.
“We’ll talk about this first,” he says calmly, but there’s an edge in his voice that I’m sure causes his employees to cower. Good thing I don’t work for him.
“She’s one of the best in her field. You’re being remiss to disregard her expertise,” he says, a hint of anger in his voice. I take a deep breath and bury the urge to flip him off. I grit my teeth. This guy is capable of bringing out the absolute worst in people.
“Your dad is being remiss by destroying a historical landmark—a place that helps a lot people. What’s he going to do? Build a parking lot?” I shoot back. He leans back in his seat, amused.
“Look. It’s important to lots people here, our family included. Before he starts anything, can you get him to just leave it alone?" I ask, taking a deep breath.
“You know, once something’s underway with my father, it isn’t just started, it’s already done,” he says nonchalantly. I fold my hands in frustration.
“But...that’s not his interest at the moment,” he adds lightly.
Great then, I can leave. “Well, I guess that’s it then,” I say rising from my seat.
“Congratulations are in order aren’t they? I hope we’ll be getting an invitation to the big event,” he says before I’m even a step away from my seat.
“What?”
“You’re engaged to Jenna Mallory,” he says dryly.
I try to hide my surprise. I just proposed to her yesterday. I’d ask how he knows but there’s so many ways. He probably holds the lease on the jewelry store I bought the ring at.