Conklin's Corruption (#3) (Conklin's Trilogy) (4 page)

I couldn’t wrap my head around the thought of Tyler having a record for assault. I was going to have to Google him. 
Ask him.
 
You are supposed to trust each other
.  My subconscious scolded.  I wasn’t going to ask him.  What had happened was in the past, and if he did have a background with assault charges, I probably wouldn’t find them.  One thing a rich family could do is buy off the police for those types of things to magically disappear.

Chapter 2

Tyler

The past three days had been hell, and I couldn’t wait to be home and spend the weekend with my Becs.  Chicago had been crazy.  I had a huge deadline for a new client, Cortez, who wanted to build multiple commercial buildings.  Multiple buildings meant more money, but the finances were tricky.  I finally felt confident and pitched the sale, happy that the client seemed impressed and eager to get started.

I was about to shut down my computer for the day when an unexpected knock came on my office door.  Surprised the receptionist hadn’t buzzed for me, I curiously looked over my computer screen as the door opened.

“Got a minute?” RJ, my less-than-perfect father, asked as he breezed into my office.

I cleared my throat, surprised he had come into my office.  He never came to me.  I was always summoned, in some way, to him.  We typically didn’t talk, mainly because we didn’t get along.  His persistence to piss me off and get under my skin was the number one reason we fought constantly.

“Yes, a minute.  I have to catch a flight by 5:00pm.”

RJ nodded and went to look at a framed photo of a half-built Sears Tower.  “Did you get the finances for the Cortez account settled?”

Of course he wanted to know about that.  I sighed.  He never seemed to have faith in me to nail any accounts.  “Yes.  He just signed the paperwork this afternoon.  I was about to send the copies to legal,” I said flatly, sliding into my chair to the fax machine with the stack of papers.

RJ still stood in front of the picture with his hands in his pockets.  “Good.”  Then he was silent for what felt like an hour.  An uncomfortable thickness was in the air.  RJ has always been right to the point, no nonsense. He didn’t linger for small chit chat.

“Is… there anything else you need?” I slowly asked.

RJ turned his head towards me, a blank expression turning into a slight smile.  “Yes, I wanted to talk about the wedding.”

What?  Since when was RJ Conklin interested in the personal life of anyone in his family?  I stared at him blankly.

“Your mother and I wanted to know if we could throw a wedding shower.  I thought we could have a guys’ day.  You, Nathan, Mitch, Becca’s father, and brother if they could come.  We could go golfing.  Spend some time together.”

I scowled in utter confusion, surprised my jaw hadn’t hit the floor.  RJ didn’t spend quality time with his sons.  He didn’t give two shits about weddings and showers.  Even if this was entirely my mother’s idea, he wouldn’t be pitching it to me. 

He rustled his hands in his pockets and started to tap his toe on the floor, waiting for my shocked expression to subside. 

“Um… yeah, I’ll ask Becca what weekend would work for her,” I said, attempting to not sound dumbfounded.  RJ cocked his mouth to the side as though he were thinking about saying more.  The ticking of the pendulum clock on my desk filled the room with awkward silence.

Finally, he spoke.  “Good.  It’ll be good for us.”  It felt as though he was trying to convince himself.  “This wedding is good.  Becca is a good girl.  You need to hold on to her.  Cherish her.”

I snorted at his words, anger filling my veins.  Who was he to tell me I needed to cherish a woman?  He had never been faithful to my mother or anyone.  Not even business partners.  Especially the really dangerous deal he had been tiptoeing around with Lee Chino.

“Are you kidding me?” I asked, baffled.

RJ blinked and shrugged his shoulders.  “No.  Why would I joke about that?”

“Because you’ve never had a functioning relationship in your life,” I barked.

RJ narrowed his eyes.  “Don’t act like you know about my relationships.”

“Exactly.  I don’t know you.  I know nothing about my father,” I said point blank.

His eyes softened a fraction, a hint of guilt passing through them, but quickly vanished into a smirk.

“Hence the golfing and the wedding shower.”

Was he kidding?  After 28 years, he finally wanted to start a relationship with me?  I wasn’t buying it.  There had to be more, something in it for him that involved dollar signs and power.  “This is about Chino, isn’t it?  You’re trying to get me to say yes to his obscene business propositions,” I said in a menacing low tone.

RJ groaned and rolled his head to the side.  “I told you I would take care of that.  Stop thinking I’m some money hungry business tycoon who only cares about my bank account.”

I raised a brow at him.  He just described himself to a T.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he scolded.

I shook my head and stood from my desk.  “I’m going to be late.  Are we done?” I asked grumpily, grabbing some paperwork to put in my briefcase.

RJ sighed and ran a hand through his hair.  “Yes,” he said softly.  “Let me know about the party.”

“Yeah, sure.”  I was distracted, blowing off his weird attempt at being a normal parent.  It was all an act for something he wanted; it had to be.  Once my things were gathered I started to walk to the door.  He could stand in my office all he wanted, but I needed to get to the airport.  Just as I was about to head through the doorway RJ’s voice rang through the air.

“I’m proud of you son.”

I stopped dead in my tracks, shock and confusion taking over my body.  RJ had never given me a compliment.  My heart tugged at my chest as unnerving emotion was trying to trickle out of my system.  Every bone in my body wanted me to turn around and say
thank you, I’ve been waiting to hear that my entire life
, but I didn’t.  I merely continued through the door, mumbling, “I’ll talk to you later.”

***

My black Maserati smoothly pulled up at the Gerald R Ford International Airport.  I tipped the valet and slid into the sleek leather seats.  I sank into the seat with ease, rubbing my fingers along the steering wheel.  This felt good; this felt like home.  I loved my cars. They were a close second to Becca, and I was happy to make the 40 minute drive to our new home in Grand Haven.  It would help me tuck RJ’s weird conversation in the back of my mind as I tried not to look too much into his rare ‘I want to be a better parent’ moment.

All of the final furnishings for the house were delivered last week, and I had to admit it was quite cozy.  Becca did a wonderful job filling the space to make it feel like ours.  It was nautical and tasteful, a lot of creams and blues, very serene.  She even found a few vintage batman posters for the theater room in the basement.  I couldn’t wait to “watch” our first movie in the room together this weekend.  We had yet to make it through the entire most recent Batman movie.  I wondered if I would ever be able to keep my hands to myself whenever she was near.

Nah.

The rest of the drive home I fantasized about how we could utilize the theater room.

It was nearing dusk as I pulled into the long driveway of our new home.  The sunset was beyond beautiful to look at from the deck.  We lived right on Lake Michigan, and I was surprised how much it felt like the ocean.  I opened the garage and parked next to Becca’s new car. 

Her father had gifted her a white Lexus GS hybrid.  I was a little disappointed.  I wanted to purchase her a car, hide it in the garage, and surprise her.  I guess I still could.  She would need an SUV for the winter.  I smirked to myself.  It would make a wonderful wedding present.

I opened the door from the garage, dropping my briefcase next to our bedroom door then went in search for my Becs.  A mischievous grin spread across my face as my eyes found her standing in the kitchen in her favorite yellow dress.  It was strapless and flowed at the waist to just above her knees.  She was barefoot at the stove, stirring something in a pan. I checked my watch.  It was a little after 7:00 p.m.  She moved swiftly to the fridge, pulling out a bottle of wine, not even realizing I was standing just outside the kitchen.  She went back to the stove to find her glass and fill it to the top. If I had to guess, meeting with the florist with her mother didn’t go well.

I crept up behind her, taking in her scent.  I loved the smell of her citrus soap and shampoo.  She slowly tilted her head to the side, her lip slightly quirking up into a small smile.  She realized my proximity as my hands found their way around her waist, pulling her back into my front.  I rubbed my nose along her shoulder, my lips grazing her skin softly. God, she intoxicated me. I was thankful for summer because she wore more strapless dresses.

“Hi,” I said softly, finally kissing her shoulder.  My dick twitched as I opened my mouth to taste her skin with my tongue.  I was surprised he wasn’t full blown ready to go with the thoughts I had on the drive home.  A small giggle escaped her mouth as she put her hands over mine.

“Hi back, stranger.”  She spun around to face me, placing her arms around my neck, giving me a way too quick of a kiss, then spun back to tend to the stove. 

I frowned.  “That wasn’t the welcome home kiss I was expecting.”  I grabbed her hips again, nestling myself behind her.

“I don’t want your potatoes to overcook,” she said, completely ignoring my wandering hands and mouth.  I trailed kisses from her shoulder to the nape of her neck then started to pull the ponytail rubber band thingy from her hair.

“Ugh, Tyler, can you not?  It’s too hot by the stove,” she said, pushing me away.  She threw her hands to her head and fixed the ponytail as I put my hands on my own hips.

“Okay, what happened?” I asked, attempting to fix the uncomfortable bulge in my pants.  She wasn’t one to deny me, especially when I had been out of town for work.

“Nothing,” she said in frustration.  “I’m just tired and irritated with my mother.”

Bingo
.  I must have been right about the meeting with the florist. My hands found her waist again as I patiently waited for her to continue.  She always needed a moment before she started to slowly unravel.  One thing I learned about my Becs in the last few months was ‘nothing’ really meant something, and she would eventually spit it out if I were patient enough to listen.

She spun back around to face me while rubbing her hands on her face.  “Everything has to be extravagant with her.  I don’t need a bouquet that is a third of the size of me.  I don’t want $1200 arrangements at the end of each aisle.”  She pulled her hands from her face and looked up at me.  I remained quiet, waiting for her to finish.  “I’m sick of telling her over and over what colors I want.  I know she doesn’t like them, but that doesn’t mean she needs to keep trying to get me to change my mind.  I don’t want to feel like I’m battling every decision I make.  I mean I shouldn’t have a reason for what I want besides liking something, right?” She sighed and rested her head on my chest, wrapping her hands around my neck.

I ran one hand up and down her spine while the other remained firmly around her waist holding her against me.

“It’s your wedding, baby.  You do what you want.  You always have the final say,” I said soothingly.

She sighed.  “Yes, and she never says anything once I make my final decisions.  It’s the side comments skirting around why she doesn’t like anything that drives me nuts.”

I smirked down at her.  I knew exactly what she was talking about.  “Ignore it, hold your ground.  I know you have it in you.”

She looked up at me and smiled.  “Yes.  I’m just overwhelmed and probably overreacting.  Dealing with the house, the wedding, and…,” she trailed off, turning back to face the stove.

I frowned down at her.  “And what?” 

“Nothing, just stressed at work from Will being gone.  I’ll be fine.”

“What’s stressful at work?  Is it the Arena remodel?  Because you have been doing a wonderful job.”  She had been working on the plans for the past month, making sure they were absolutely perfect.  She was terrified to disappoint her father.  If anything, Max was going to be as proud as I was with her work.

Becca cleared her throat as she went to find a strainer for the potatoes.  “Yes.  The Arena has been stressful.”

I watched her move, the tension in her body extremely noticeable.  She shuffled to the sink then shut off the stove and drained the potatoes, her head tilting back to the side as she rinsed them.

I didn’t like when my Becs was stressed, and I planned on pampering her tonight after dinner.  Normally pampering would lead to other pampering.  I walked back behind her, running a fingertip across her shoulders.  “How about after dinner, you take a bath then I’ll give you a nice long massage.  I’ll even clean up the dishes.”

I could sense her grin as she shook the potatoes around in the strainer.  “I could agree to that.”  I kissed her shoulder again then went to grab plates and silverware to set the kitchen island, our typical meal placement.  Becca continued making me mashed potatoes and steamed vegetables.  She had chicken roasting in the oven and the scent of the herbs was starting to waft through the air.