Reining in the Billionaire Page 2

  EvaMarie hugged herself as her heart pounded in her chest. Nausea washed through her. She’d been alone through a lot of hard times over the past five years, but right now she wondered if there was a person alive who wouldn’t let her down. “What does that mean?”

  Mason stepped forward, his boots scraping across the driveway. “It means I’m the new owner of the Hyatt estate.”

  His voice had deepened. This was a man speaking. A man taking away what he had to know meant the world to her. She couldn’t even look him in the eye. Turning back to Clive, she struggled not to beg. “I just need a little more time—”

  “Too late.”

  Mason’s harsh words made her cringe, but she tried to focus only on Clive. Breathlessly she pushed the words out. “But the mares will foal—”

  Clive stepped forward, cutting off her view of Mason with a hand on her shoulder. “You know it won’t cover more than a few payments,” he said, his voice low and firm, even though his touch was gentle. “Then you’ll be behind again. You’ve done the best you could, EvaMarie, but we both know you’re only delaying the inevitable. It’s time. Time to let go.”

  She shook her head, the words ringing in her ears. Time to admit defeat—to Mason Harrington. Her father would rather die.

  For a moment, she almost gave in to the tears that had plagued her for the last six months. She glanced over at the quiet, still barn in the distance. The surrounding lush trees had sheltered her since she’d first walked. The lake in the distance had seen her learn to swim and fish. The rolling hills had been her playground in her youth, her solace as she’d gotten older. Her mind conjured up memories of a time long ago when the picture before her had been bustling with employees, and horses, and visitors.

  Not anymore. No matter how hard she tried.

  Every time she’d thought she was making progress, yet another setback would stomp on her efforts. But this one was the crowning glory.

  Now she zeroed in on Mason, surprised by his smug I won look. Obviously, he could remember a lot about this place, too. Part of her ached that he still hated her enough to find taking her home from her a worthy challenge. But a part that she didn’t want to acknowledge found a tiny bit of solace in the fact that she could still touch him in some way.

  She’d never be able to admit all the ways he’d changed her, even after he’d been gone. The thought was enough to have her dragging her stoic expression back into place, covering her true emotions, all of the frustration and pain she’d dealt with since he’d left, since her father became ill.

  She felt so alone.

  “So when do we have to be out?” she murmured, struggling to be practical. She wouldn’t think right now about how it would feel, leaving the only home she’d ever known. That would lead to the breakdown she wanted to avoid.

  Mason stepped fully into view, muscling his way around the bank manager. How he’d heard her, she wasn’t sure. “As soon as possible would be great. You can work that out with Clive here, but first, I’d like to look over my purchase, please.”

  If she hadn’t been struggling already, his complete lack of compassion would have taken her breath away. EvaMarie looked at the smug man, seeing again the few traces of the boy she’d loved with all her heart, the boy she’d given her body to, even though she’d known she couldn’t keep him—and wished she had the courage to punch him in the face.

  Two

  Mason’s crude satisfaction at besting EvaMarie and her family quickly transformed to dismay as he followed her into the house.

  Bare. That’s the word that came to mind as he looked around the entryway and beyond. It was like a gorgeous painting stripped of all its details, all the way down to the first broad brushstrokes covering the canvas. The basic structure was still there. The silver-leafed cabinetry, the crystal doorknobs, the delicate ironwork. But a lot of the decorative china and porcelain figures and landscape paintings he remembered from that long ago day had disappeared, leaving behind bare shelves and walls that projected an air of sadness.

  They had entered the house through a side door, the same one Mason had been let into fifteen years ago. The long hallway took them past the formal dining room and a parlor, then a couple of now empty rooms until they came to a sunken area facing the back of the house. Apparently the family used this as a cozier living room, if one could call the massive, hand-carved limestone fireplace and equally impressive Oriental carpeting “cozy.”

  Upon closer inspection, the once pristine furniture had a few worn corners. But weirdly enough, what impacted Mason the most was the flowers. Not the ones in the overrun garden outside the wall of windows, but the ones in the vase on the table behind the sofa as they entered the room.

  He vividly remembered the large sprays of flowers in intricate vases from his first visit, impressed as he had been with their color and beauty. They’d been placed every few feet in the hall and several in each of the rooms he’d glanced into and entered. But this was the first flower vase he’d seen today: a simple cut-glass one. Inside was an arrangement of flowers that looked like they’d been cut from the wild gardens. Pretty, but they were obviously not the designer arrangements of hothouse blooms he remembered.

  Boy, the privileged had truly come down in the world.

  Glancing over to the couple seated near the fireplace, he recognized EvaMarie’s parents, even though they’d aged. Mrs. Hyatt was dressed for visitors. Mason would expect nothing less, though her silk shirt and carefully quaffed hair denoted a woman who hadn’t faced the reality of her situation.

  The pearls were a nice touch though.

  “What’s going on?” Daulton asked, his booming voice still carrying enough to echo slightly on the eardrums. “Clive, why are you here?”

  The bank manager shook hands with the couple, then stepped back a bit to allow EvaMarie closer. Mason had thought he’d want to see this part, to witness the lowering of the high-and-mighty Hyatts. After all, they’d orchestrated the moment that had brought his own family’s downfall.

  Yet somehow, he couldn’t bring himself to close in, to gain an angle that allowed him to see EvaMarie’s face as she gave her family the news that their lives were about to change. Afraid he was softening, he forced himself to stand tall, knees braced for the coming confrontation. He forced himself to remember how his father must have felt that day when he’d had to tell Mason and his brother that he was fired from the position he’d held for ten years at the insistence of Daulton Hyatt.

  That hadn’t been pretty either.

  “Mom, Dad, um.” EvaMarie’s voice was so soft Mason almost couldn’t hear it. Yet he could feel the vibration in his body. EvaMarie’s voice was unique—even huskier than it had been when she was young. She’d grown into a classic Kathleen Turner voice that Mason was going to completely and totally ignore. “The bank has sold the estate.”

  Mrs. Hyatt’s gasp was quickly drowned beneath Daulton’s curse. “How is that possible?” he demanded. “Clive, explain yourself.”

  “Daddy, you know how this happened—”

  “Nonsense. Clive...”

  “Corporate took this account out of our hands, Mr. Hyatt. There’s nothing I can do now.”

  “Of course there is. What’s the point of knowing your banker if he can’t help you now and again?”

  “Daddy.” At least EvaMarie had enough spirit to sound disapproving. “Clive has gone out of his way to help us on more than one occasion. We have to face that this is happening.”

  “Nonsense. I’m not going anywhere.” A noise echoed through the room, like a cane banging on the wooden floor, though Mason couldn’t see for sure. “Besides, who could buy something so expensive that quick?”

  Clive turned sideways, giving Daulton a view of Mason where he stood. “This is Mason Harrington from Tennessee. He and his brother started the purchase proceedings th
is morning.”

  “Tennessee?” Daulton squinted in Mason’s direction. Mason could feel his pulse pick up speed. “Why would someone from Tennessee want an estate in Kentucky?”

  Rolling with that rush of adrenaline, Mason took a few strides into the center of the room. “I’m looking forward to establishing my own racing stables, and the Hyatt estate is perfect for our purposes, in my opinion.”

  Mason could see the realization of who he was as it dawned on Daulton’s face, followed quickly by a thunderous rage. He was proud to see this glorious, momentous thing that Mason himself had ignited.

  “I know you,” Daulton growled, leaning forward in his chair despite his wife’s delicate hand on his bicep. “You’re that good-for-nothing stable boy who put your hands on my daughter.”

  It was more than just my hands. Maybe he should keep that thought to himself. See, Kane, I do have control. “Actually, I am good for something...as a matter of fact, several...million...somethings...” That little bit of emphasis felt oh, so good. “And I’m no longer just a stable boy.”

  Daulton turned his laser look on his daughter, who stepped back as if to hide. “I told you I would never allow a filthy Harrington in one of my beds. I’ll never let that happen.”

  “Oh, I don’t need one of your beds,” Mason assured him. “I just bought a nice, expensive one of my own. I’ll just take the room it belongs in.”

  “You aren’t getting it from me,” Daulton growled.

  This time, Mason matched him tone for tone. “You sure about that?”

  The other man’s eyes widened, showing the whites as he processed that this Harrington wasn’t a kid who was gonna meekly take his vitriol. “The likes of you could never handle these stables with success,” he bellowed. “You’ll fold in a year.”

  “Maybe. Maybe not. But that will be decided by me.” Satisfaction built inside as he said it, and he let a grin slip free. “Not you.”

  He could tell by the red washing over Daulton’s face that he got Mason’s drift. The older man started to stand. Mason realized he was gripping the side of his chair with an unusually strong grip.

  “Daulton,” his wife whispered in warning.

  But the old man was too stirred up to heed her, if he even heard her in the first place. Mason felt his exultation at besting the monster of his dreams drain to dismay as Daulton took a step forward...then collapsed to the floor.

  A cry rang out, maybe from EvaMarie’s mom. But everyone rushed forward except Mason, who stood frozen in confusion.

  With Clive’s help, the women got Daulton turned over and sitting upright, though he was still on the floor. Mason studied the droop of the man’s head, even as his back remained turned to Mason.

  Kneeling next to her father in dusty sweatpants and a T-shirt, hair thrown up into a messy bun, EvaMarie still had the look of a society princess when she glanced over at Mason. Her calm demeanor, cultivated through hours of cotillion classes, couldn’t have been more sphinxlike. “Could you excuse us for a moment, please?” she said quietly. She didn’t plead, but her gaze expected him to do as she asked.

  He’d never been able to resist that dark blue, forget-me-not gaze, always so full of suppressed emotions that he wanted to mine.

  Then she tilted her head in the direction of the door to the hallway. For once, he didn’t have that unbidden urge to challenge that came over him when he was faced with authority. Especially Hyatt authority. Obviously there was more going on here than he was aware of.

  Turning, he let himself back out into the hall, wondering if he’d be able to forget the impression that his brother had been right. This wasn’t going how he pictured it...at all.

  * * *

  EvaMarie could feel her hands shaking as she finally left behind the drama in the living room to face Mason in the hall. Out of the frying pan and into the fire, as the old saying went. Her body felt like she’d been put in a time machine. All the devastating feelings from that long ago confrontation in the barn—the day her teenage world imploded—had come rushing back the minute her father had raised his voice at Mason.

  She’d spent a lot of time throughout her life walking on eggshells, trying not to light her father’s fuse. By the time she’d grown a semblance of a backbone, the angry man he’d been had mostly disappeared. He reappeared only during times of high stress, and it was all EvaMarie could do not to give in to her childhood fears.

  Now she had to face Mason—with no time for deep breaths or wrapping herself in invisible armor. Just hunkering down, enduring—just like most of her days now. The fact that he was actually here, in this house with her right now, seemed completely surreal, but the derision on his face had been very real.

  There had been no doubt in her mind how he felt about her after all these years. She should take solace in the fact that he hadn’t completely forgotten her. But she had a feeling she wasn’t gonna feel better about him, or this situation, any time soon.

  Maybe a little diplomacy would smooth the way...

  “Congratulations, Mason,” she said as she approached him with measured steps, trying not to take stock of the new width of his shoulders beneath a fitted navy sports jacket that she never would have pictured him wearing, even if it was paired with a pair of dark jeans and cowboy boots. Talk about surreal...

  He turned from his study of the formal dining room to face her, then raised a cool brow. How could he portray arrogance with just that simple movement? “For what?”

  “Obviously, you done well to be able to afford—”

  “—to no longer be pushed around by people, just because they have more money than me?”

  Her entire self went very still. His words told her everything she needed to know—how Mason viewed his childhood, their breakup and her in this moment.

  It told her one other thing: he was going to find a lot of satisfaction in this scenario.

  Maybe it would be best to focus on business. “So, what can I do for you?” she asked, though she had a feeling he wasn’t gonna make it easy...

  “That tour I mentioned.” He waved his hand in the direction of the stairs. “Lead the way.”

  EvaMarie simply could not catch a break. She could almost feel his gaze as she took deliberate steps down the rest of the hall, pointing out various rooms.

  He wasn’t even subtle in his gibes... “Can’t say I’m loving what you’ve done with the place. This version has taken the concept of ‘simplify’ to a whole new level, I believe.”

  She couldn’t even argue, because she agreed with him. The state of her family home was a drain on her emotional equilibrium every day. But having someone else point it out...well, it certainly hurt.

  Should she admit she’d sold off all but her mother’s family heirlooms to keep them afloat? Yeah, his reaction to that would be fun. Just one more thing to mock her with.

  So she kept silent on that topic, instead launching into a knowledgeable diatribe on the parquet floor pattern, imported tile and other amenities her father had spared no expense on. All the little details she’d spent a lifetime learning that would be useless once she was driven away—but for now she could use them to keep herself from admitting the truth.

  She’d done what she could, but the estate was going under, and there wasn’t a whole heck of a lot she could do to stop it.

  “You’re getting a good deal,” she said, trying to keep any emotion from her voice.

  “A great deal,” he conceded.

  Color her shocked.

  They stood at the top of the back landing, facing a large arch window that gave a clear view to the stables and beyond. It was a mirror of the front of the house, which looked out over the drive and the wooded property between the house and the highway.

  Mason studied the view. “Gardener?”

  “Um, no,” she murmured. “Not a
nymore.”

  “That explains a lot,” he replied.

  Stiffening, she felt herself close off even more. Though she shouldn’t be surprised that he just couldn’t leave it with the question. From the first words out of his mouth, she had expected his judgment.

  “My brother and I would like to offer anyone on staff a job,” he said, surprising her. “No need for them to be worried about their incomes because the place has changed hands.” He stepped back to the landing, studying the first floor from his higher vantage point. “And we’re obviously going to need some help getting things in order.”

  Yeah, no need for the staff to worry...only her family worried about living on the street... She ignored the implication that the property would need a lot of work to whip it into shape. She’d done the best she could. “That’s very generous of you,” she said, struggling not to choke on the words and the sentiment. “Currently we only have one employee. Jim handles the stables.”

  Mason stared at her, wide-eyed. “And the rest?”

  “Handled by me.”

  “Cooking? Cleaning?”

  EvaMarie simply stared, not liking where this was headed. Sure enough...

  “Well, someone has definitely grown up, haven’t they? I can remember days of you being waited on and pampered...”

  Unbidden, she flushed. “If that’s a backhanded compliment, thank you.” She turned away, breathing through her anger as she stepped over into an open area that branched off into hallways to the various rooms. “The rest of this floor is bedrooms and baths, except for this sitting area.”

  “Your parents occupy the master suite?” he asked, his voice calm and collected.

  Of course it was. After all, he wasn’t the one being typecast.

  “No. The stairs are too much for my father anymore. There’s a set of rooms behind the kitchen. They sleep there.” They were originally staff quarters, but she left that unspoken.

  “I’ll see the master suite, then.”

  She gave a slow nod, then turned to the short hallway on the left.