Kold Karats

THREE: GRACE FORESTER

Three things I loved about Los Angeles; its seething weather in July, the Hollywood sign that gave me a sense of apparition, and how easy it was to trail a man with a static schedule.

A man like Darren Kold Roderick.

After following him around in disguise for a week, I had already figured out that; Mondays were always busy, Tuesdays he hit the gym, Wednesdays he'd yell at someone over the phone, Thursdays certainly put him in a small room with his therapist for an hour and made him come out even more stressed, Fridays he managed his staff, and Saturdays he would plan for an event coming up Sunday.

Then I understood how easy it was to kill any distinguished person. Their routines were totally unskilled. Like a rolodex of activities, they went round and around, nothing changing, nothing absorbing. I couldn't agree more. Darren Kold —such a weird middle name—was stuck in a cycle of monotony, and he didn't even realize it.

I mean, if you saw him then, you'd understand why I could not settle for the life of a famed businesswoman. From my own father, I'd seen the stains, the pressure of walking around with the awareness that eyes were watching — it could cost a man his already feeble sanity. It was maybe the reason Darren saw a therapist on Thursday.

From what I'd gathered all week, Darren had a big function tomorrow. A few dollar bills had given me the information I needed about this fundraiser event. There was no dress code, he wanted to urge the rich men confraternity to raise five million for charity, he had plans of auctioning a Painite — the first and only one of its kind at this event.

Fortunately, his ticket ended up costing less than the dress it seemed I'd wear to the event, which was quite unexpected given the caliber of people he knew and the prestigious guests that would be attending. One would have thought that someone in his position would have splurged on the tickets, but much to my amazement, I only had to pay five hundred dollars for the highest level of access. And this access covered meeting the all too renowned Darren Kold, as well as the remaining organizers.

My new gold dress was staring back at me, its sharp color and dramatic beaded fringes begging for the attention of anyone in close proximity. Olson had left it in my room a while ago with a note that it was exactly what he wanted me to wear tomorrow night. Such a control freak; he sickened me.

The tag peeking from the side of the eye-blinding details showed me how desperate he seemed. The last time Olson got me anything was my birthday two years ago. And it was not worth calling a gift, despite the money he'd spent. It was a mouthguard with a note to never take it off until I learned to be polite. But to buy a dress worth nearly two thousand dollars was shoving answers in my face. Olson was more than eager to materialize his plan.

Seventy million was a lot of money. Twenty million — which was my own cut in all of this — would put some designer shoes on my feet and some Chanel shades over my spiteful gaze. Certainly.

Greed was any Forester's problem. If you ever came across any, you'd be sure of that. My father wasn't a pauper—gosh he'd built a company and was chairman before my mother registered the thought of having me. Him owning six cars and a grand home told anyone I met that I had everything at my disposal, but they couldn't be more wrong.

Greed, selfishness and arrogance were the core traits of the Foresters. Everett wasn't excluded from the chain.

My father didn't give a rat's ass if I wore flip flops out of the house, as long as my informality didn't cost him a potential client. He'd offered me a job at RetireWell because he couldn't stick to his fatherly responsibilities of paying my bills without getting anything in return. So, no, I didn't have money at my disposal. Twenty f*****g million dollars would change my life.

Right after I had settled into the cozy bed in my spacious room, I heard a faint tapping sound at the door. "Olson?"

The door tore open and Sterling calculatingly strode in, delivering me a malicious stare. Sterling's height was more intimidating whenever I stood beside him, so I stuck to sitting at my bed's edge, gauging his attire for the evening.

"You heading somewhere?"

No answer.

I picked up my phone to ignore his bullshit. Patience and time were two things I lacked and didn't bother to feel sorry about it.

Olson was a nutcase, yet Sterling was raised to the power of two compared to him. You could imagine how much doses of nonsense I had to chew on in one day. One leaving an elegant dress in my room with an imperious note before my arrival; another walking into my space to stare a hole in my head. Good thing was how fast I'd learned to shove them aside and focus on something that would not cause me great frustration.

"We should talk." Arrogance dripped off his words; one that couldn't go unaddressed. He was my younger brother for goodness sakes,

owing me more than that cavalier tone and attitude.

Without bothering a single glance his way, I said, "If it's the matter of your uncredited account, I cannot help you."

"I know, Olson already mentioned that Father is the most reliable option at this point," he said, placing hands on his waist. He'd taken an uncouth stance by standing with his legs spread apart and his arms folded across his chest. Of course, father himself had put the ban on his allowance, not me. I had only followed up on it. "This one's about the man yourself and Olson have arrangements with."

"Go to bed, Sterling." I rolled by eyes in disappointment. "This conversation doesn't concern twenty-three year olds." I finally raised my gaze to meet his, realizing at once that he wanted to wrap his hands around my neck and watch me gag to death.

"I saw you following him around."

This was the part where I was supposed to put my phone aside, spread my eyes in awe and beg for answers of what he knew so I could veer him off focus. Instead, I fell with my back onto my soft bed and breathed out, holding no care in the world whatsoever.

We all lived together still, unfortunately, and I would not say the thought of getting a life outside of this mansion didn't cross my mind more times than dinner did every day. Even if the bed would be smaller than this one, and the room a closet-sized space, I wouldn't mind as long as I had my privacy. The issue was how much of a nonchalant and uncaring person I was, and it wasn't my fault.

Father didn't raise us to kiss each other in the forehead and deliver heartfelt speeches on our birthdays. The love we shared for each other was all biology's work, any other thing was imaginative. I wasn't the only one who didn't give a s**t and my brothers' love life and the condition of their stomach at midday. We all simply didn't care for each other as much as I'd seen other families do.

Sterling, shifting from one end of my room to another, found an antique - a souvenir from my last visit to Greece, on my vanity. He grazed it with a gentle touch. "Evil eye charm, no?"

"It is said to ward off negative energies," I explained. "Careful, or you just might find yourself flying through that window."

He laughed and seemed to obey my caution, quickly removing his fingers from the amulet. Then he moved to my rack of books, something he'd seen a gazillion times before, scanning for god-knew-what. "s**t's getting pretty tense around here, do you not agree?"

"And I'll appreciate if you don't wrap mother's name around this conversation," I shot at him, sensing that he was just a breath away from doing exactly that.

That was something I didn't appreciate him doing, blaming our strained relationship on the fact that we had lost our mother a few weeks after she had Sterling. Everett could have done a good, after all he wasn't the first single dad to raise three children. Instead, he focused more on RetireWell and our ability to either be tactful of selfish. Then Olson finished father's lessons off when he began to live up to standard. Myself and Sterling had to follow suit.

"Good night, Grace." Sterling gave me a nod that I couldn't define and stepped out of my room.

At least then my focus could rest on the thought of what I would be doing at this time tomorrow— meeting the honored Darren Kold with a mixture of Olson's plan and mine.

###

DARREN KOLD

For no sane reason, I felt compelled to resist the urge to join my bodyguards at the airport to welcome Valentina.

We had talked about her arrival on Thursday, yes, and yet to my surprise, I received a call a while ago, informing me that she had landed in Los Angeles.

Agitation was really getting to me, even though she was my sister and I'd seen her many times before. But, ever since I sent her to Germany several years ago, I had refrained from allowing her to return. She must have changed a lot, leaving me uncertain about what to anticipate.

We would dine together, certainly. Due to my instructions, the kitchen was already abuzz with activity, as the chefs busily prepared for dinner service. I briefly watched in awe as my culinary team worked their magic, creating worthy recipes. The smells of fresh herbs and spices filling the air, and the sound of sizzling pans creating a lively atmosphere, something that hadn't happened in months.

After a moment, I went to take my medication and then suddenly found myself dashing through the living room and waiting outside. Agitation, confusion and anxiety filled me for as long as I stood until three cars entered the driveway after the gates slid open.

I held my breath. A mixture of excitement and frustration whipped me when she descended from the G63 AMG and shut the door softly. Breath of tensed air escaped my lips.

Valentina was nineteen when I last saw her. Through her voice over, I'd noticed her growth. But the Valentina looking down at me right now was a full grown woman, even more mature than the twenty four she was at the time. Spruced up in a grey cashmere coat and a muffler around her neck, she elegantly marched down.

Our mother had been a woman of refined elegance and beauty, and her influence was evident in the way Valentina carried herself. Her grey eyes, much like our mother's, would darken in the light, and her features would take on a certain intensity when she was passionate about something. There was no doubt that she had inherited our mother's regal bearing, with a confidence that was both alluring and intimidating. It was as though she had been born to command attention and respect.

In a strange way, the very qualities that made my sister so captivating were the very things that made me want to keep her at a distance. Whenever I saw Valentina, I couldn't help but see our mother, and the sight of that woman caused a visceral reaction within me. My stomach would churn and twist in a mixture of pain and disgust, as if she had poisoned me with some invisible toxin. It was as though she represented everything I had lost and everything I could never have.

"Aww, brother," Valentina warmly said, her embrace even warmer than her tone. "I have missed this stone so much."

Stone.

She was relentless with her teasing, and I found it endearing in an irritating sort of way, but laughed inwardly at her antics, even as I drew her closer to me. I towered over her petite frame, and when I pressed her into my chest, I could feel the warmth of her body against mine. It was a comforting sensation, despite the tension between us.

"Welcome home," I said, still wrapped around her.

The scent of her dark strands was a soft, inviting smell, as if a summer breeze had just passed through a meadow of wildflowers. It was the essence of freshness and freedom, but it also held a hint of something more complex and elusive. It was as though the fragrance could transport me to another place and time, yet it remained firmly grounded in the present moment.

"You look ever so lonely," she teased again, looking at the giant house in front of her. "Dwelling in misery and despair."

"I am just fine alone, Val." I held a firm tone to show certainty because I was just that: certain.

Valentina's smile was lacking of anger, perhaps because she had used to my stubbornness. "Please tell me there's something good to eat. I'm starving, brother."

Hand over her shoulder, I wheeled her around and faced the entrance doors. "And that's when you're going to see the smorgasbord of spaghetti carbonara prepared just for you," I muttered near her ear, knowing full well it was her favorite dish.

Valentina's expression shifted with a combination of surprise and delight, as her eyes widened in response. She started to open her mouth in anticipation, while I led her into the dining room, where the air was filled with the inviting scent of garlic, parmesan, and bacon.

The table was laden with heaping plates of spaghetti, ready for her prying fork.

"Roasted chickens, steaks, and even a whole lobster?" She gasped. "Are you expecting the entire community in Beverly Hills?"

Unable to hold it back, I chuckled hard. "You haven't changed, no?" She was still the same nineteen year old Valentina that loved to joke around and treasure leftovers as if she didn't have me to shower her with whatever she wanted, whenever she wanted it. "Join me when you freshen up. And hand me me your phone."

"What?"

"Your phone, Val," I repeated with my hand outstretched until she put the device inside my palm. "Security measures. You'll get it back after dinner."

Nodding, she raced up the stairs, leaving me back to die in delight. It was different than I'd thought and hoped for. Expecting the tension to keep us from quipping, Valentina had surprised me by blending right into the place as if she had never left. It was something I loved about her; her ability to break the ice and forgive. She had certainly forgiven my rigidity without waiting for a verbal apology.

I'd failed her, and I knew it. Sending a nineteen-year-old away just for my own selfish reasons, preventing her from returning, and not even making any effort to mend things besides having spaghetti carbonara prepared was cheap of me. I was ashamed of myself, but determined to make things right. It was time to face the music and take responsibility for my actions. I had to find a way to make it up to her, to show her that she was more than what I acted.

In anticipation of the potential dangers that awaited her, I had began taking measures to ensure her safety. Two bodyguards would be assigned, ready to accompany her at all times, and a motorcade of three vehicles prepared for her use. I would even place a GPS tracker in her phone, so that I could keep an eye on her location at all times. While it was unfortunate that my wealth and status put us both at risk, she would be safe under my supervision.

Valentina wasn't actually the only member of my family, she was the only member of my family that truly mattered to me.

Now that she was home, I hoped to enjoy a little warmth from family, I hoped to feel less lonely—as Dr. Morgan had advised, and I hoped to finally find purpose, as I was f*****g bored of this monotony.

So we could both start from dinner, a good conversation, and then blend right back into each other like nothing was amiss. I could do that. I could try.