Page 2 of Craig

He wanted to, of course. He had things he was burning to do, but could only accomplish them by being at the helm.

He was a different person from the one who had hightailed it out of town. He was older and more mature now, and had seen things that had left him feeling helpless and filled with anger.

He wanted to make a difference, and was going to. But he was afraid of what the old man had in store for him.

Cecil Muldoon was ruthless and inflexible, and loved nothing more than to flex his muscles. He had complete control over the fortune and did as he saw fit.

The fact that he was on his deathbed made it no less true.

Dragging a hand through his disheveled hair, he turned and went into the bathroom. It was time.

*****

Cecil Muldoon sat in his chair behind the large mahogany desk and swallowed his medication gamely. Dismissing the nurse with a curt nod of his head, he barely waited for the woman to leave the room before walking over to the cabinet to pour a finger of his favorite Irish whiskey.

Not mixing medication with alcohol seemed foolish to him, and he was not a man who took orders from others, much less a woman. And the damn nurse was getting on his bloody nerves.

But the boy was home. A sly grin split his weathered face.

Taking the drink back to his desk, he sat down creakily and swirled the drink around in the thick glass. He had been running from his destiny and had to come right back home.

There would be no fatted calf, of course, not after the fact that he had left so abruptly and stayed away without a word, but there would be rules. Cecil was nothing if not thorough, and he had put someone on his grandson since he left the country.

He knew all about his shenanigans, the fights, the brawls, the stints into underground recoveries of children that had been destined for human trafficking.

He could admire his grandson's need to right the wrongs of the world, but by God, he was going to take up his rightful place. He had done his research, or rather had tasked that to the head of his legal team, and William was thorough.

The man earned his exorbitant fees.

The boy was a do-gooder, and his expectations were high. What he wanted to accomplish was going to take a hell of a lot of money, and that was precisely what Cecil was counting on.

It simply meant that when his grandson heard what was required of him, he would have no choice but to fall in line, like it or not.

Tossing back the drink, he tensed when he glanced at the monitor. It was showtime.

*****

Craig felt the familiar tug of anxiety as soon as the car turned into the private lane leading to the long sweeping driveway. Nothing had changed, or at least, not that much had.

The hedges were trimmed to precision because the old man would accept nothing less. But the old pile of stones and bricks set atop an incline was not as daunting as when he was a kid.

Craig recalled that in happier times when his parents were alive, he had thought it was a castle and how fortunate he was to live here. That was before he discovered that his grandfather was a tyrant who was determined to have his own way.

His heart pounded like a jackhammer, and he could feel his armpits sweating. Mentally shaking off the acute tension building up inside him, he took a deep breath as the car glided to a stop at the edge of the sweeping steps leading to the porch.

As soon as he opened the door, the scent of honeysuckle and roses assailed his nostrils. It was the height of summer, and even the breeze waving through the palm and towering oak trees did nothing to alleviate the intense heat.

The familiar fountain, a whale with its mouth agape, spewed water that dribbled down its peeling structure. Gardeners, three of them, were busy clipping hedges and maintaining the lawn.

The drive from the hotel had been done in utter silence, with William attending to some paperwork inside his briefcase, which had been fine by him, Craig mused grimly. He had been in no mood for small talk.

Before they could mount the steps, the huge double doors swung open, revealing a woman wearing a starched black-and-white uniform. Her face was creased by years, but she still wore that familiar smile that managed to dissolve some of the tension around Craig's heart.

"Millicent!" A genuine smile touched his lips as he went straight into her open arms.

Eyes damp and lips trembling, she held him for a moment before easing back to take a good look at him.

"You're thin," she tutted, a frown creasing her forehead.