Chapter 13

Roman braced himself as the gates to his father’s property opened. This wasn’t the house he had been raised in. This monstrosity was a status symbol acquired at the insistence of his father’s latest wife.

He drove past the manicured gardens to park in front of the house and then sighed as he got out of his car. It was his fault. If he had come for breakfast instead of lunch, he would have avoided this.

He reached into the car and grabbed the box of imported cigars on the passenger seat. He never bought anything for his dad’s wife, though he had never been questioned about it. Not that his opinions about his father’s wives had ever made a difference or counted for anything.

The house was quiet, as it usually was when Esther Ashfield wasn’t throwing one of her parties. He firmly believed that when she was home she ignored his father, and on the many occasions that she wasn’t, she was off spending his money like the gold-digging whore that she was. But that had stoppe