Promises We Meant To Keep (A Lancaster Prep Novel)
Promises We Meant To Keep: Chapter 32

I ENTER my father’s office and settle into the chair across from his desk, quiet while he’s on the phone. I pull mine out of my pocket to check if I have any messages, but there are none.

Impatient, I shove my phone away, stewing as I listen to my father smooth talk some sucker into giving him money. Extorting another small business owner to smuggle drugs—the life of a mobster.

We’re on the fringe, linked to one of the most powerful mafia families in the country, if not the world. We’re protected by them, unless we cross them in any way.

If that ever happens, we’re dead. My father first, me next.

I used to be the heavy. The one who would meet with those who owed us money, who stole drugs from the shipment and sold them on their own. The squirrely ones, the sneaky ones. The men who would piss their pants when we showed up, threatening their lives, their family’s lives.

I hated it. Only did that for little over a year before I went to my father and demanded to do something else. I couldn’t take it anymore. I’m smart, I’m good with numbers, so I started cooking the books next. We have an accountant team and even a CFO, but I’ve got an entire set of books and countless spreadsheets that sing a different tune. Siphoning money here and there, so we don’t have to pay taxes, so we can put that money into our pockets, and our employees’ pockets too.

What we do is illegal. I’m putting myself on the line every day I go into the office, but what can I do? This is my world, and it always has been.

There are some advantages to this lifestyle though, and I take advantage of them whenever I can.

Like now.

The moment my father ends his call, I’m talking.

“Did you replace out any of the information I asked for?” I lift my brows, waiting for his answer.

My father leans forward, resting his forearms on the edge of his desk. “You like chasing after rich old ladies now or what?”

Irritation flits through my blood, and I mentally tell myself to cool down. I knew he’d say something like this. It’s just his way. “I’m looking out for my fiancée.”

His brows shoot up practically to his hairline. “Your fiancée now, is it? You never bothered to tell me about this. Though I heard you took her to meet your mother. Guess you mean business after all.”

“Don’t think you much care who I’m marrying anyway,” I retort. “Besides, you knew I was with a Lancaster. You even expressed your approval.”

“Not sure if I completely approve. The Lancaster name does bring a different kind of exposure.”

I can’t deny that, but I also need to make one thing clear before this conversation goes further.

“No more insults about her. You can’t call her a liability either. Do you understand?” I lift my brows, waiting for him to challenge me.

A soft chuckle leaves him. “Look at you. Manning up. I like to see it.”

I don’t say anything in response. Maybe he’s right. I’ve been shuffling along, just living life. Now that I’ve got something—someone—to protect, I am manning up, as he calls it.

“Just watch it with that family. Don’t give anyone too many details about what you do, even your girl. That family could blow us up and put a spotlight on our business.”

“I’m not scared. We’ve always stayed in the shadows. And I’m thinking about getting out of this anyway.”

He snort-laughs. “It’s not that easy, son. You really believe I’m going to just let you walk away and let your new rich wifey take care of you? I don’t think so.”

I think of Sylvie saying her money could take care of us for life, and I realize my protests weren’t in vain. There’s no way my father will let me escape from the business. No matter how hard I try.

“Tell me what you found out about Sylvia Lancaster,” I say, changing the subject.

I asked my father to have his best private investigator do a little digging into Sylvia Lancaster’s background, see if he could come up with anything that’s been kept quiet. Any information I can use against her, I’ll take straight to her and blackmail her ass straight out of Sylvie’s life, once and for all.

Dad sighs, leaning back in his chair. “Not much. Most of what she does is public knowledge. Except for her recent facelift. She was photographed at the airport, arriving in Ibiza, but she was never caught leaving that place. They did that shit in secret, so no one would see her with bandages.”

“Already knew about that.” I jiggle my foot, anxious for something juicy. “Anything else?”

He snags a manilla envelope from the bottom of the pile of paperwork on his desk and drops it on top, flipping the file open. He scans over the information and I marvel at the fact that he’s so damn old-fashioned he couldn’t have the info sent to him via email.

“Paper. Really?” I ask.

“Easier to get rid of compared to an electronic file, which leaves a trail.”

“And paper doesn’t?”

He lifts his gaze to mine. “It was put together on a typewriter. My guy doesn’t like to take any risks.”

I almost laugh, but when I see the look on his face, I remain quiet.

“Looks like she was questioned by a team of doctors about six years ago or so,” Dad says offhandedly as he continues reading.

That has me sitting up straighter.

“Really? What about?” I keep my tone nonchalant, but my interest is definitely piqued.

This could be exactly what I’m looking for.

“Something about filling false prescriptions at a variety of pharmacies?” Dad’s brows draw together as he continues to read the report. “Yeah, she was accused of gaming pharmacies and using fake prescriptions to obtain medication for her kid.”

For Sylvie.

“The child wasn’t named because she was a minor.” He glances up at me. “Your fiancée?”

I nod, clenching my jaw. “Yes.”

“Uh huh. Well, I’m sure this was all kept very hush hush, because of who she is. Never brought before any type of official medical board or even the police. A team of doctors that she’d been taking her child to got together, compared notes and eventually questioned her. Sounds like she was outraged and claimed it must’ve been some sort of mistake. I’m thinking she most likely paid them off and then it was done. She was off the hook and the allegations disappeared.”

Such bullshit. Money is most definitely power. Money buys you everything you could ever want. Even when you get caught trying to poison your child, you’re able to pay off a team of doctors—people who are supposed to protect the ill and the hurt—and take care of things with a few quiet payments. Sweeping everything under the rug, never to be mentioned again.

My father continues skimming the documents and I let him. I’m too angry to try and read at the moment. My hands are curled into fists and I pound one on the edge of the chair over and over. Harder and harder. Until it starts to hurt.

The woman should pay for what she’s done to her daughter. Sylvie is a fucked-up mess, thanks to her mother. I know she’ll eventually heal. That everything will be okay because I’m going to take care of her.

But I will never rest, knowing that woman merely exists. Living in the same city as us. No wonder Sylvie wanted to leave.

Maybe we should both leave. Go to her house in California and hide away in the forest. I could make something work. My father won’t want me to leave, but I could figure something out.

Eventually.

“That’s about the most scandalous thing I can replace here,” Dad says as he flips through the papers. “The divorce looks like a doozy. He paid her a lot of money. Alimony and child support, which is hilarious, considering none of those kids lived with her. They were all away at school. The child support eventually stopped, but she’s still getting the alimony. Plus a fat settlement check. She’s definitely not hurting for money.”

“She comes from a wealthy family too. The woman will never be broke,” I say absently, fixing my gaze on the window to my right, staring at the city. Sylvia is out there somewhere, doing God knows what. “I want a tail on her.”

“Are you serious? Why?”

I return my attention to my father. “I don’t trust her. She wants to kill my future wife, and I refuse to give her the opportunity to do so. Not on my watch.”

“That’ll cost you.”

“I don’t care.” Not like I spend my money much anyway.

“How long do you want someone to follow her?”

Till she’s dead.

“I don’t know. Until I feel like she’s no longer a threat.” I rise to my feet. “If you won’t put it together, I will.”

“Calm down. I’ll help you. I’ll contact the PI right now. I know he’s got an entire staff that does surveillance.” My father slaps the file shut and hands it over to me. “I’ll have them start ASAP.”

“Perfect.” I take the file from him. “Thanks.”

“You’re going to a lot of effort over this girl,” Dad observes.

“She’s the woman I’m going to marry. Someday, she’ll be the mother of my children.” I can feel my blood pressure rise, and I take a deep breath, refusing to let the old man work me into a froth. “I would destroy this city with my bare hands if it meant I could keep her safe.”

He watches me for a moment before he slowly starts to shake his head. “A liability, I tell you.”

“I don’t care what you think.” I slap the file against my chest. “She’s not a liability to me.”

My father informs me the surveillance is in place, but it doesn’t feel like enough.

So I make my way to Sylvia’s apartment building, parking out in front of it and lying in wait. I’ve got the window down, no music playing. Just the noise of the street keeping me company. The occasional siren. The sound of voices talking as people walk by. I barely look at my phone, too focused on the double doors that lead inside, just waiting for Sylvia Lancaster to make her appearance.

With my luck, I’ll never see her.

I should be working. Or spending time with Sylvie. Instead, I’m sitting in one of my father’s cars, watching the comings and goings of the elite as they enter and exit the building. There are two doormen working the front, both of them elderly. I could take them if I wanted to. Not that I plan on it.

But I do notice there’s no actual security standing outside the building. Though nothing this high-end would go without a security detail. There is far too much money in this building to go unprotected.

Not that I’m interested in anyone’s money. More like I just want access to Sylvia. Just for a few minutes. I want to give her a piece of my mind, and tell her to stay away from Sylvie for good. I mean fucking business, and she needs to witness it.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

There’s a slapping sound, my car rocking, and I nearly jump out of my seat.

Whit is standing there, bracing the window frame of my car, grinning maniacally.

“Jesus.” I run a hand down the front of my tie. “You about gave me a heart attack.”

“Are you spying out here, Donato? Seriously?” He pushes away from my car and rounds the front of it, opening the passenger side door and slipping inside. “Close the window. It’s fucking hot.”

“Asshole,” I mutter under my breath as I start the car and hit the button to shut the window. I hate that I automatically did his bidding, but it’s as if the need to please a Lancaster is bred within me. I’ve been doing it for years.

Old habits are hard to break.

“What are you doing here?” I ask him as he taps away on his phone. “And who are you texting?”

If he says his mother, I’m going to fucking lose it and start swinging. I don’t care if he is my best friend.

“I’m texting my cousin Grant.” He taps at the screen for a few seconds more before I hear the telltale swoosh of a text being sent. “The real question is what the hell are you doing here? Lurking outside my mother’s building?”

I don’t want to answer. I’ll sound like I’ve lost my damn mind, especially when we already have hired PIs spying on her.

“Come on, Spence. Be real with me. Are you waiting for my mother to magically appear?” I keep sulking, not saying a word, and he eventually scoffs. “Fine. Don’t answer me. I already know what you’re doing, and I get it. I do. My mother is completely untrustworthy. But hanging out in front of where she lives in the hopes of, I don’t know, talking to her, isn’t the best move.”

“I want to keep her away from Sylvie,” I admit.

I can feel Whit’s eyes on me as I stare straight ahead, watching as the door opens and an elderly gentleman with a very young woman on his arm come walking out.

“Don’t you think the best way to keep her from Sylvie is to be with Sylvie, always?”

He’s right. I know he is. But I don’t want to be agreeable. I’m pissed. Frustrated. “I can’t be with her at all times.”

“You could be with her right now,” he suggests, sounding so frustratingly logical, I want to punch him in his smug face.

Instead, I scrub my hand across my face. “What are you doing here?”

“Meeting with her. She asked me to come over. I know it’s about the baby.” He blows out an exaggerated breath. “She’s been upset we don’t let her spend time with Augie, and now with another baby coming, she’s going to whine and try to wheedle her way back into our lives.”

“Are you going to let her?”

“No. Summer refuses. Especially since we’re having a daughter.” He sends me a look. “Now that it’s been confirmed what my mother did to Sylvie, Summer is adamant that Grandma dearest doesn’t get near our children.”

“I don’t blame her. But why are you listening to your mother plead her case when you’ve already made up your mind?”

“I want to hear what she has to say. What kind of lies she’ll tell to get me to agree. She’s a master of manipulation, but I’ve been on to her game since I was like…thirteen. I see right through it, unlike some people. Namely, my sister.”

“I asked her to marry me,” I admit, my voice low.

The surprised look on Whit’s face is almost comical. “No shit? What did she tell you?”

“She said yes.”

“Well, hell.” He grins. “Welcome to the family. You’re crazy for wanting to be a part of this.”

“I’m in love with her.” God, I sound like I’m in pain and maybe I am. I love Sylvie so damn much it hurts. That’s why I’m sitting in front of her mother’s high-rise, hoping to catch a glimpse of her like a crazy man. What would I do if I saw her?

Shit, I don’t know. Confront her? Tell her to back the fuck off? Tell her I’ll end her if I catch her near Sylvie?

Threats aren’t smart. I know they’re not. But that’s all I want to do when I think of Sylvia coming near Sylvie.

“I know,” Whit says, reaching for the door handle. “I’ll mention Sylvie to her too. How she needs to leave her alone.”

“She won’t listen,” I say, knowing I’m telling the truth. “She’ll do what she can to try and get her back into her life.”

“I’ll mention the possibility of a restraining order. Though I will not mention the fact that her future son-in-law is lying in wait for her. That would fuck everything up.” He gets out of the car and turns to face me. “Don’t do anything stupid.”

He shuts the door before I can answer, which is a good thing.

I don’t want to make promises I know I can’t keep.