to reveal two white capsules. That’s when it hit him.
“Invader?”
He didn’t realize he’d spoken aloud until she stiffened.
James glanced between the two of them. “You remember Christina, I see.”
Only too well. And from her ramrod-straight back he gathered she remembered his little nickname for her. That stubborn I will get my way look brought it all back. She used to look at him that very same way when they were teenagers, after he’d brushed her off like an annoying mosquito, dismissed her without a care for her feelings. Just a pesky little kid always hanging around, begging his family for attention. Until that last time. The time he’d taunted her for trying to horn in on a family that didn’t want her. Her tears had imprinted on his conscience, permanently.
“Aiden,” she acknowledged him with a cool nod. Then she turned her attention back to James. “Take these, please.”
She might look elegant and serene, but Aiden could see the steel beneath the silk from across the room. Was there sexy under there, too? Nope, not gonna think about it. His strict, one-night stand policy meant no strings, and that woman had hearth and home written all over her. He wouldn’t be here long enough to find out anything...about anybody.
With a low grumble, James took the pills from her hand and chased them down with the water. “Happy now?”
His attitude didn’t faze her. “Yes, thank you.” Her smile only hinted that she was patronizing him. Her presence as a nurse piqued Aiden’s curiosity.
His gaze lingered on her retreat to the far window, the rain outside a gray backdrop to her scrubs, before returning to the bed that dominated the room. His voice deepened to a growl. “What do you want?”
One corner of his grandfather’s mouth lifted slightly, then fell as if his strength had drained away in a rush. “Straight to the point. I’ve always liked that in you, boy.” His words slurred. “You’re right. Might as well get on with it.”
He straightened a bit in the bed. “I had a heart attack. Serious, but I’m not dead yet. Still, this little episode—”
“Little!” Christina exclaimed.
James ignored her outburst. “—has warned me it’s time to get my affairs in order. Secure the future of the Blackstone legacy.”
He nodded toward the suit standing nearby. “John Canton—my lawyer.”
Aiden gave the man’s shifting stance a good once-over. Ah, the man behind the phone call. “He must pay you well if you’re willing to lie about life and death.”
“He merely indulged me under the circumstances,” James answered for Canton, displaying his usual unrepentant attitude. Whatever it takes to get the job done. The words James had repeated so often in Aiden’s presence replayed through his mind.
“You’re needed at home, Aiden,” his grandfather said. “It’s your responsibility to be here, to take care of the family when I die.”
“Again?” Aiden couldn’t help saying.
Once more his grandfather’s lips lifted in a weak semblance of the smirk Aiden remembered too well. “Sooner than I like to think. Canton—”
Aiden frowned as his grandfather’s head eased back against the pillows, as if he simply didn’t have the energy to keep up his diabolical power-monger role anymore.
“As your grandfather told you, I’m his lawyer,” Canton said as he reached out to shake Aiden’s hand, his grip forceful, perhaps overcompensating for his thin frame. “I’ve been handling your grandfather’s affairs for about five years now.”
“You have my condolences,” Aiden said.
Canton paused, blinking behind his glasses at Aiden’s droll tone.
James lifted his head, irritation adding to the strain on his lined face. “There are things that need to be taken care of, Aiden. Soon.”
His own anger rushed to replace numb curiosity. “You mean, you’re going to arrange everything so it will continue just the way you want it.”
This time James managed to jerk forward in a shadow of his favorite stance: that of looming over the unsuspecting victim. “I’ve run this family for over fifty years. I know what’s best. Not some slacker who runs away at the first hint of responsibility. Your mother—”
He fell back with a gasp, shaking as his eyes closed.
“Christina,” Canton said, his sharp tone echoing in the room.
Christina crossed to the bed and checked James’s pulse on the underside of his fragile wrist. Aiden noticed the tremble of her fingers with their blunt-cut nails. So she wasn’t indifferent. Did she actually care for the old buzzard? Somehow he couldn’t imagine it. Then she held James’s head while he swallowed some more water. Her abundant hair swung forward to hide her features, but her movements were efficient and sure.
Despite wanting to remain unmoved, Aiden’s heart sped up. “You should be in a hospital,” he said.
“They couldn’t make him stay once your grandfather refused further treatments. He said if he was going to die, he would die at Blackstone Manor,” Canton said. “Christina was already in residence and could follow the doctor’s orders....”
His grandfather breathed deeply, then rested back against the pillows, his mouth drawn, eyes closed.
“Can you?” Aiden asked her.
She glanced up, treating him to another glimpse of creamy, flawless skin and chocolate eyes flickering with worry.
“Of course,” she said, her tone matter-of-fact. “Mr. Blackstone isn’t going to die. But he will need significant recovery time. I’d prefer him to stay in the hospital for a bit longer, but...” Her shrug said what can you do when a person’s crazy?
Something about her rubbed Aiden wrong. She didn’t belong in this room or with these people. Her beauty and grace shouldn’t be sullied by his grandfather’s villainous legacy. But that calm, professional facade masked her feelings in this situation. Was she just here for the job? Or another reason? Once more, Aiden felt jealous of her, wishing he could master his own emotions so completely.
But he was out of practice in dealing with the old man.
This time, Christina retreated to the shadows beyond the abundant purple bed curtains. Close, but not hovering. Though keenly aware of her presence, Aiden could barely make out her form as she leaned against the wall with her arms wrapped around her waist. It unsettled him, distracted him. Right now, he needed all his focus on the battle he sensed was coming.
“Your grandfather is concerned for the mill—” Canton said.
“I don’t give a damn what happens to that place. Tear it down. Burn it, for all I care.”
His grandfather’s jaw tightened, but he made no attempt to defend the business where he’d poured what little humanity he possessed, completely ignoring the needs of his family. The emotional needs, at least.
“And
