The Grand Pact (The Grand Men #1)(65)

It takes Ralph a good few minutes to manoeuvre up the stairs, and by the time we reach the top step, he’s a little out of breath. “Elsie made me fork out on a two-story house for our retirement.” He looks up, and I follow his line of sight between the multiple staircases that lead to the very top floor.

Holy fuck.

I can’t live here.

He bangs his closed fist on the bannister. “These are the only thing I won’t miss about this house.”

I try for a smile but panic claws at my throat as I walk behind Ralph and down the landing.

“You’ve gone quiet on me,” he observes, looking over his shoulder.

“It’s a lot. It’s very big.”

“It is. But it has a lot of life and love, too. You’ll like it here, I’m sure of it.”

I nod, feeling overwhelmed.

Ralph shows me the bedrooms, which are just as grand as the rest of the house. The bathrooms are sleek and modern, with quartz countertops and different marble and slate patterns varying in each.

“Did you renovate it recently?” I ponder, running my hand down the panelled bedroom wall. There’s a fireplace in here with a wood surround which seems to complement the oak floors.

“I only finished what Elsie started. There was a lot she wanted to do. When we bought this place, I was at the peak of my career. I had all the money yet no time to do the things we wanted. It’s funny, we tend to think we’ll have time to enjoy the good one day, yet what we don’t realise is that the good is already in this very today.”

“That’s true and a very good reminder.”

He dips his head and points to a door leading off the bedroom with his stick. “I had everything cleared out in here and the rest of the floor. The things I didn’t want to take with me are upstairs. I hope that’s okay.”

“Of course it is okay!”

“That’s a wardrobe,” he tells me when I don’t make a move to open the door he pointed to right away.

I walk over and look inside, my jaw dropping for the millionth time today.

“If you don’t mind, I’ll leave you to explore the rest of the house on your own. I have a love-hate relationship with those bastard stairs.”

I chuckle and scan the room again before following him out. “Would you like to eat with me this evening, Ralph? One last knees-up before you leave? I can cook, or we could order in.”

He turns as he reaches the top step, a full smile on his face that he does nothing to hide. “There’s an Italian restaurant not far from here. Let me put an order in. It’s a favourite of mine, but I don’t tend to order when it’s just me. Too much waste.”

I grin right back, a lump forming in my throat at the joy on his face. “Perfect.”





Elliot





I invited my parents to dinner. It’s not something I do enough, and when I pull my car up to the gates of my home. I remember why. My mum and dad are great parents, which means they care, which also means they want to know everything there is to know about me and my life.

I already know my mother will quiz me on where I’ve been, who I’ve been with. It’s always the same. And my father, he’ll ask me about the company. It’s the one thing he’s never quite let go of.

They’re already inside and waiting for me when I walk in the door, and the smell of my mother’s infamous steak pie assaults me instantaneously.

“Mum. Dad,” I greet them, stepping into the kitchen and smiling over at my mother, who’s busy at the sink.

“Hello, darling. You’re late today.”

“I had a meeting. Sorry,” I tell her as I move to stand behind her and pull her back into me for a hug. I kiss her head. “You made my favourite.”

“I did. This kitchen isn’t used enough.” She elbows me and shrugs me off. “Are you eating enough?”

“Freya,” my dad groans.

“Don’t Freya me. He’s my boy.”

“I’m eating, Mum, I promise.”

I look across to my dad, who’s sitting at the kitchen island peeling carrots. “Your meeting,” he mutters, tipping his chin in question.

My mother tuts behind me.

“The developers from the Stanley site. They’ve had some funding issues.”

“No surprise.”

“Right.”

“Has it been sorted?”

I nod. “We’re getting it done.”

“Good.” He continues to peel the carrot, and my lips form into a grim line.

I can’t imagine not doing something I loved anymore. Real estate wasn’t always my plan, and if Mason didn’t take on the company, I can’t say I would’ve taken it on by myself. Over the years, I fell in love with the business. I saw what it meant to our fathers when we made the decision to take it on and the way we have developed it in such a short space of time, I know my dad is proud of me, but I also see how it bothers him that he isn’t hustling at it anymore.

My mother places a hand on my back as she leans over and places an ice-cold pint of beer in front of me. “Did I hear right from Nina? You’re going to the Hamilton gala.”

“Thank you,” I tell her, lifting the glass to have a sip. “And yes, I am. Charlie’s doing a speech or something.”