Ruthless Noble by Alley Ciz

CHAPTER 32

When you livein a place you consider more your personal prison than your home, having people over to hang out at it is a weird experience. The strangeness of it is not doing any favors for my already jumpy nerves.

Tessa, Tinsley, Duke, Jasper, Banks, and I have officially commandeered the penthouse’s main living space. Natalie may have sneered and turned up her nose at our juvenile evening plans, but I caught the pleased gleam at how I’m finally (in her eyes) spending time with “appropriate” associations.

Cushions, pillows, and blankets have been rearranged to create a communal chill space in the once artfully arranged living room. Each of us are spread out in our own little cocoon of comfiness while we work our way through watching part of the Fast and Furious franchise. These boys think they’re funny with their movie selections.

Off to the side, we set up a snack bar filled with enough sweets and treats to give a person a stomachache just by looking at it. And yes, before you ask, I’ve been self-medicating by eating my body weight in Swedish Fish.

Not Tessa. While I’ve used my inhaler more times than I would like to admit this week, my bestie has been living her best double agent life. She’s embraced every plotting session with a zealousness that puts even some of her most extra moments to shame.

Remember how I said we shouldn’t allow her and Duke to be in the same room as each other? Well, if there was ever any doubt regarding the validity of that statement, it was proven tenfold when the two of them tried to convince us to repel Mission Impossible–style from the ceiling into Mitchell’s home office.

Today’s snooping is just the next step in a plan we’ve been working on executing for the past week, though it’s the one I’m struggling with the most.

Mitchell’s home office was the one place I hadn’t ventured into in my search for the evidence Natalie claims to have on Carter. For some reason, it felt fundamentally wrong to invade such a personal space. One of the things motivating my guilt about it is that it feels like it’s a violation of his trust when he’s been nothing but nice to me.

I’ve also been struggling with justifying why he would knowingly participate in Natalie scheming against her children. There’s just too much to unpack there.

In the end, my love for my brother won out over any conflicting feelings toward my stepfather.

Despite Tessa’s romantic suspense-loving heart, I am not a master spy or safecracker. Still, that didn’t stop her from forcing us to watch The Italian Job as part of our “preparation”. As hot as Charlize Theron is in that movie, I wasn’t able to pick up any skills that would help us in this endeavor.

Thankfully, though I’ll deny it if asked, Jasper’s choice of a best friend came through in the clutch.

“Here.” Duke hands me a long, skinny velvet box, the kind typically used for necklaces.

“What’s this?” Instead of answering, he prompts me to open it. “Holy shit!” I whip my gaze back to his. He has to be joking, right? Nestled inside the cream-colored satin is an obscenely expensive diamond and sapphire necklace.

Even now, the memory of being in possession of such a valuable piece of jewelry makes me jittery.

Once I got over the shock of Duke carrying seven figures’ worth of precious jewels around school like it was nothing more than a key chain, I got my wits about me enough to lay into him.

“Are you out of your fucking mind?” I snap the lid closed and thrust the box back at Duke, but he refuses to take it.

“It’s debatable.” He shrugs without a care in the world.

At one point, I made an offhanded comment to Jasper about how I wish I could channel Duke’s carefree nature, to which he responded by dragging me into the nearest empty room with a lock and made me come until I forgot anybody’s name but his.

My not-so-secret-but-not-quite-public boyfriend has a possessive, jealous streak longer than the Jersey Shore.

When I asked Duke where he got the necklace, he told me it was another heirloom passed down in his mother’s family.

Carter and I grew up firmly in the upper middle class. Dad’s position at Royal Enterprises made it so we never wanted for anything, and the same should have been true after his untimely death. That said, the draw of a multimillion dollar life insurance policy was too much for Natalie to resist, and thus began the downward spiral of our family.

The type of wealth Duke and Jasper come from is difficult for me to comprehend. Technically I’m now in that same faction with Natalie’s marriage to Mitchell, but with how I’ve essentially been playing one role after another since I first walked through the penthouse doors, none of it has felt real to me.

Any time I’ve attempted to question Duke about the progress he’d been making with his dad concerning our engagement, I’ve been met with one of two responses.

One, Duke will tell me to focus on the issue I have to handle on my end.

Two, Jasper will take over and either kiss or fuck me stupid. Tessa accused him of trying to keep me dickmatized, and as soon as he learned the meaning of the word, it was like he took it as a personal challenge.

Neither of those things has helped me feel any better about what is about to go down once Natalie and Mitchell leave for the conveniently arranged dinner with the Delacourtes.

Five minutes after the elevator doors close with Natalie and Mitchell behind them, the timer Tessa set on her phone goes off, and the Mission Impossible theme song blares from the speaker. Smartass.

“All right, Bitchy.” Tessa jumps, literally jumps in a spray of blankets from her spot on the floor. “Let’s do this.”

An unexpected laugh bubbles out of me watching her frog-march toward the entrance hall. Most days it’s a miracle we paired ourselves up in our unconventional friendship over a decade ago. She always manages to bring light to my life, and right now? I desperately need that light.

“You ready for this, Princess?” Jasper runs a thumb across the backs of my knuckles.

With Natalie nearby, I couldn’t snuggle with my boyfriend—that isn’t proper when one is betrothed—but Jasper sat close enough that with each of our arms stretched out, we could hold hands beneath the blankets.

I swallow thickly. “No,” I admit. “But let’s do this anyway.”

Jasper pushes up to stand and holds a hand out to help me as the rest of our group rises to their feet.

“Go team!” Tessa cheers, arms extended overhead, fingers wiggling in exaggerated spirit fingers.

“Have I told you yet today how much I like your friend, peaches?” Duke drops an arm around my shoulders and hooks a thumb back at Tessa. A second later, he’s doubled over with a grunt from the elbow Jasper jabbed in his side with a Hands off what’s mine growl.

I turn in Jasper’s hold, my hands coming up to curl over the biceps straining the sleeve of his black T-shirt like I’m about to use his arm to do a chin-up. “You did.” I walk backward to keep my eyes locked on Duke. “But you also obviously forgot about the warning you were issued last weekend.”

After enduring listening to Duke’s constant flirting at The Barracks, Tessa’s “brother” contingent sat him down—rather forcefully, I might add—and told him in explicit detail what would happen to him should he play games with Tessa.

Surrounded by four hulking football players, a towering basketball star, and an overprotective male cheerleader used to tossing girls over his head on the daily, it finally started to sink in that I wasn’t kidding when it came to Tessa, though in the end, I was still credited as the biggest threat.

“Nope. I’m good.” I can’t help but chuckle at the way Duke curls his hands into fists to hide the tips of his fingers. Mason may or may not have told him about my suggestion for how to handle Kay’s ex-boyfriend.

“Battle stations, people.” Tessa claps her hands, rallying the troops.

Jasper leans down to whisper as I turn around under his arm. “She’s insane.”

“I know.” I beam with pride, which only has him shaking his head.

After recalling the elevator, Banks and Tinsley take it down to the lobby. They will be our first set of eyes just in case any of the parents decide to leave dinner early.

Then Tessa will linger near the entrance foyer by the elevator with the hope to stall any early arrivals for as long as possible.

Duke will serve as our last line of defense, taking a post right outside of Mitchell’s office.

With any luck, though, Jasper and I will be in and out of the office, the evidence finally in hand, before anyone returns to the penthouse.

Everyone assumes their position.

I pause, hand hovering over the brass doorknob.

You’re doing this for Carter.

With a deep breath, I peer over my shoulder at Jasper and, at his nod, turn the handle and step inside.

This is only the second time I’ve been in Mitchell’s home office, the first being the other day when I played my part to learn where he keeps his safe.

Here’s the part I have to credit to Duke.

The necklace was our Trojan horse of sorts. It didn’t take any acting on my end when I asked Mitchell if he had a safe place where we could store the necklace until the *hold on, let me clear my throat* wedding. The two hours the thing was in my possession were two of the most stressful hours of my life. I know it was unreasonable, but I swear I kept looking over my shoulder for potential muggers.

Natalie, as expected, lost her shit on sight. She oohed and aahed, gushing about how clearly right she was about suggesting Duke and I be paired together. Not gonna lie, it was weird as fuck for her to look at me with any kind of pride. Too bad it only came at the expense of me being traded like prized cattle.

“Princess?” Jasper’s voice has me once again blinking back to the present, and my gaze automatically focuses on my reflection staring back at me in the large wall of windows across from the door.

Right. We’re here on a mission—time to do this thing.

Shaking off my reservations, I move across the smooth gray tiles and over the plush lighter gray area rug in the center of the room. I remember thinking the other day how different Mitchell’s office is than I would have expected. Still, the refined-but-homey vibes do a lot to help settle my nerves as I round the polished black desk and reach for the book that will open the hidden section of the built-in bookshelf behind it.

There’s a soft click, and I wrap two hands around the edge of the shelf and pull to guide the case until it’s fully perpendicular to the steel safe door.

Again a memory washes over me in a wave, this one of the almost boyish smile my stepdad gave me when I exclaimed a whispered “Whoa” as he did the grand reveal the other day.

“Cool, right?” Mitchell chuckles as I continue to gape at his Indiana Jones–esque setup.

“Please tell me you have a hidden passageway I haven’t discovered yet.”

“Unfortunately, no.” A twinkle of mischief takes root in his gaze. “But maybe that’s a deficiency we could look into rectifying.” The moment would be sweet if it wasn’t tainted by subterfuge as I move to stand at the proper angle to see the sequence of numbers Mitchell punches into the keypad.

Warmth meets my back as Jasper moves into place behind me. An arm comes around me before the anchoring weight of his hand splaying over my belly infuses me with the courage I need to carry on.

I curl then flex my fingers, hand suspended in the air, willing myself to plug in the code.

I close my eyes and lean back against him.

I need to push through the guilt.

I’m doing this for my brother. But more importantly, I’m doing it for me. I’m sick of Natalie coming in at the eleventh hour thinking she can control my life. No more.

“What if we don’t find anything?” I voice my biggest fear.

“Then we pivot.”

I wish it felt as simple as it sounds.

“I got you, Savvy.” Jasper covers the back of my hand and guides it the rest of the way to the keypad. “Whatever is in there…we’ll handle it…together. You’re not alone in this.” Lips ghost across my temple. “You’ve never been alone in this.”

My eyes grow hot as tears burn at the backs of them. He’s right. It’s a fundamental truth I let the fear Natalie instilled cause me to forget.

I’m done.

Done letting her win without realizing it.

Done letting her try to rob me of the family who loved me when she failed to.

This is my moment.

I can do it.

My palm is sweaty, and I curl my fingers down, rubbing them against each other to wipe away the moisture before typing in the code that could lead to my freedom. Each beep of the six-digit combination feels heavy like the toll of a gong. I don’t realize I was holding my breath until the air rushes from my lungs in relief when the electric whirl of the locks disengaging sounds.

Another glance over my shoulder at Jasper, and I turn the handle and step to the side to make room for the heavy door to swing open.

The safe is made up of four shelves. I ignore the bottom one with the gold bars and stacks of banded money and the top one with the necklace and other boxes filled with valuable jewelry and a selection of watches. This isn’t a heist. Instead, after taking a picture to remember the proper placement, Jasper and I pull every piece of paper, document, and folder from the middle two shelves and set them in piles on the floor to go through.

The passports are easy to distinguish with their navy blue covers, as are the birth certificates and Social Security cards. There are also a handful of signed contracts, but they mean nothing to me.

The hope I had diminishes with each item we survey without finding anything useful.

I pick up the last manila folder from my pile and unwind the string coiled around the fasteners with a heavy heart.

Bracing myself to start over from square one, I pull the two pieces of paper tucked inside free.

Right away, I notice the logo for a genetics lab at the top of the page, and my first thought is, Is Mitchell sick? Does he have some kind of disease or disorder he’ll need treatment for?

With weird frantic energy, I quickly scan the rest of the page only to come to a full stop at the bold words in the center of it.

PATERNITY TEST CERTIFICATE

What?

Mitchell has a kid? Where are they? Why haven’t I met them? Or heard about them?

The sound of crinkling paper fills the silence when my grip tightens enough to wrinkle it inside my hold as I read more.

By order of Mitchell St. James, we were requested to perform a paternity test. The following individuals were examined.

There are sample numbers, and next to the column for Alleged Father is Mitchell’s name, followed by his date of birth.

Wow. He really does have a kid. Or at least I’m assuming he does if he held on to the test results.

The idea of having a possible stepsibling sends an unexpected flurry of excitement through me.

Until…I get to the name in the column next to the one titled Child.

Samantha King

What?

Why is my name on this?

This has to be some kind of joke, right?

Except…

That’s my birthday listed next to my name.

What the fuck?

“What is it?” It isn’t until Jasper is crouched at my side that I realize I spoke out loud.

I don’t respond. I don’t think I’m capable as the words start to swim and blur in front of me.

What the hell?

What the hell?

What the hell?

My mind spins, trying to comprehend.

What does this mean?

Why would Mitchell run a paternity test on the two of us?

My chest grows tight, and I start to wheeze.

A hand grips the back of my neck and grounds me enough to see that there are no answers for me on this current page, and I throw it away. Where it lands, who the hell knows.

RESULTS

Yes, this is what I need. Except the first thing listed is a table of letters and numbers that might as well be hieroglyphics for all the clarity they provide.

My pulse starts to race to the point that I fear my heart might explode.

What does this mean?

What the hell does this mean?

I need answers.

I spear a hand into my hair and tug until the sting of pain brings my world back into focus.

CONCLUSION

I swallow, my throat tighter than it was a minute ago, and I read:

Based on our analysis, it is practically proven that Mr. Mitchell St. James is the biological father of the child Samantha King.

NO!

There’s no way.

What?

Why?

How?

A coughing fit overtakes me, and the room starts to spin.

I think I’m going to be sick.

No…

Wait…

I am going to be sick.

Scrambling to my knees, the floor hard and unyielding as I crawl across it, I make it to the little garbage can just in time.

What the hell is happening to my life?