Roark: The Donovan Dynasty Book #2 Page 2

  “Thanks. We brought their car seats inside, so she can nap in there until we leave.”

  There were six family tables set up and positioned toward the front of the room. Brock, Uncle Albert and Uncle Bernard were sitting at one when Roark and Noelle approached.

  “It’s nap time,” Noelle said, and Brock immediately stood to take Natasha from Roark.

  “Thanks, man,” Brock told him.

  “No problem.” It wasn’t a problem to hold two of his youngest family members, or to watch their sweet faces as they were set into the seats and given cups of milk.

  “How you holding up?” Uncle Bernard asked.

  Roark nodded. “I’m good,” he lied.

  “He’s steady, like Gabe was,” Uncle Albert said.

  Albert and Bernard were technically Roark’s cousins, as their father and Roark’s grandfather were brothers, but they were senior members of the family and as such were given the respect of a title before their names. Just as Linc’s daughters called Roark “Uncle Roark.” Respect was something branded into the minds of all the Donovan children from day one.

  Uncle Bernard agreed with a nod. “And smart too. I’ve seen the financial reports from Donovan International. You and Dane are building something great there.” That was said with the pride of a Senior Donovan, for the son he’d just gotten to know in the past couple of years, and for Roark, whom they’d all kept tabs on since his father’s death.

  “Thanks, Uncle Bernard. We’ve been working really hard on developing innovative techniques, and we’re starting to see some success.” Those words were easy for Roark to say. Business had always been easy for Roark.

  “Carrying on the legacy, that’s what it’s all about,” Uncle Albert added. “I’ve got grandkids, Bernard’s got grandkids. Our children are all married and branching off into their businesses. That’s what our great-grandfather wanted. It’s what Gabe and Maxine wanted. The three of you have to carry on for them. You have to keep the family going here.”

  “Yes, sir,” Roark replied, accepting yet another responsibility to carry. He felt his phone vibrating in his pocket and immediately reached for it. “I should take this,” he said with an absent glance at the screen.

  Uncle Albert stood, clapping a hand on Roark’s arm. “Don’t let everything be about business, Roark. Enjoy your family while you can.”

  Because tomorrow wasn’t promised.

  Uncle Albert hadn’t said those last words, but Roark knew how the saying ended. He knew, because his mother had said it often after his father’s death. Just as she’d been sure to keep their small family as close to her as she possibly could, until she couldn’t anymore.

  “I will, Uncle Albert. I promise.” But Roark didn’t know how far that promise was going to go. Right now, he couldn’t see past his grief to do much more than handle the most mundane of business tasks, let alone think about how he was going to keep his family together. And by the time he’d gotten out of the main hall and into the foyer of the building, his phone had stopped ringing.

  “Hey, Roark.”

  After swiping the screen to see the call had come from a number he didn’t recognize, Roark looked up at the sound of his name. He pushed his phone back into his pocket and walked across the room to where Linc and his other cousin Cade were standing.

  Cade was on the phone with his back turned to them, but Linc reached out and clapped a hand onto Roark’s shoulder when he was close. “He’s on the phone with Investigator McGee. They went back over the scene this morning, using the dogs to see if they can identify an accelerant.”

  Linc and Cade also wore black suits, white shirts and orange ties. In fact, every member of the family had been asked to wear something in that color scheme in honor of Maxine. As he thought of that now, he recalled Jade and Noelle had been wearing a wrist corsage made with the same orange roses that adorned his mother’s casket.

  “Why didn’t he call me? I specifically told him to call me with any developments,” Roark said when Linc’s words registered in his mind.

  Linc let his hand fall from Roark’s shoulder as he nodded. “And we told him not to bother you with it today. The only reason I’m telling you now is because they think they found something.”

  Roark didn’t like that there’d been a concerted effort to not tell him what was going on with his mother’s case, but wasn’t going to argue that point here today. Besides, Cade was an FBI agent; he could obviously get more information than Roark would be privy to, even though Cade’s specialty was profiling and not fire investigation.

  Cade turned to them, tucking his phone into his pocket. “Gasoline,” he told them with a solemn look.

  Linc smirked. “Not very original.”

  Rage clawed at Roark. “In the house. How did someone get into the house and pour enough gasoline around to torch the entire second floor? There’s a top-notch security system that wasn’t disturbed in any way.”

  “Yeah, I know.” Cade showed no outward reaction, but Roark knew that was because he was in work mode. “McGee’s gonna continue his investigation, but it looks like he may be turning it over to the homicide detectives at some point.”

  Cade’s words were bland, and Linc followed them with a concerned look, while Roark felt like exploding. Anger poured into every crevice of his body, inching out the grief that had taken up permanent residence since the night he’d received the call that had changed his life.

  “I’ve got some contacts within the MPD too.” Cade may have worked primarily in the US, but he knew the ins and outs of all the law enforcement agencies over here such as the Metropolitan Police Department. “I’ll be on the phone with them first thing tomorrow to see if he can stick his nose in before McGee finishes with his report.”

  Cade had also gotten the autopsy report expedited. Roark’s fists were balled so tight the muscles in his arms began to ache.

  Linc slid a hand into the front pocket of his pants. “Have you talked to Ridge and Suri about all this?”

  “No. I don’t want to worry them.” Roark ignored the fact that he was keeping info from his siblings, the same way he’d just been angry about Cade and Linc keeping info from him.

  “The media isn’t going to give a damn about worrying any of us. The fire being in such a prestigious neighborhood, not to mention the resulting death of one of the wealthiest women in London, has already been receiving front-page coverage. Tabloids are just beginning to dig into whatever they can find on Aunt Maxine, going back to when she and Uncle Gabe first moved into that house. This won’t be our secret for long.”

  Roark knew Linc was right. He knew he should talk to Ridge and Suri, but he couldn’t. How was he supposed to tell his brother and sister that their mother had been murdered?

  Chapter 2

  Three days later, Roark was once again at his office, sitting behind his desk. With one ankle propped on his knee, he leaned back in the chair and stared out the window. As Donovan International’s CEO, he had a large office on the top floor of the glass-and-steel building they owned on the South Bank of the River Thames.

  He'd been here since seven this morning, had reluctantly attended an R&D meeting at ten-thirty, had lunch at one and now at three-fifteen was avoiding the mountain of paperwork that had accumulated during his two-week absence. No matter how hard he tried, getting his mind to focus on his job wasn’t working. He knew he had things to do, and was acutely aware the initial three to five years in a new business were crucial. While this wasn’t his first turn at running a company, He needed to remain focused, to stay on top of everything so he could spot potential problems before they got out of control.

  Right now, all he could see were the heavy gray clouds that had been hanging around all day. Glancing down, he saw the shined top of one wing-tip shoe and the black sock he wore beneath charcoal-gray slacks. His left hand rested on his thigh, while his right elbow was propped on the desk. With every breath he took, he was reminded that his mother was no longer here on this earth with
him. That she’d been taken away by someone who’d wanted her dead.

  That was a hard pill to swallow and each time he tried, it left a bitter and nasty taste in his mouth. The desk phone chimed, and Roark turned quickly to stare at it. It chimed again, a little red light toward the edge of the phone’s screen blinking with the sound. His assistant usually answered and screened his calls, but she wouldn’t answer this one, because it was on his personal line. Every executive in the company had a personal line for family and clients they’d speak to no matter what was going on. His family knew the best way to reach him was his cell, and since he’d already established he wasn’t in the mood to do anymore work, he just watched the red light continue to blink.

  Years of his father teaching him about good customer service, being a good listener to their clients and accessible to the extent that it didn’t interfere with his family life had Roark cursing before reaching out to grab the handset. “Hello.” One word spoken in a solemn tone that he hoped let whoever was on the other line know he didn’t want to talk.

  “Hello, Roark.”

  He sat up in his chair slowly, dropping his leg down until his foot stomped the floor. “Katrina?”

  “I called your old number, and some guy answered.” She gave a little chuckle. “Then I was transferred to the operator, and she told me you no longer worked in that office, that you’d moved on to another business venture. She gave me the number, since you didn’t bother to tell me about the change.”

  Facing his desk now, Roark rested both elbows on the desk blotter. “I haven’t seen or heard from you in four years.”

  “We were married for three and a half years.”

  “And you left that marriage because I no longer made you happy. I took that to mean you had no intention of keeping in touch.” At the time, Roark had taken the words in the very short note Katrina had left him to mean a number of things.

  “Even in the end, you couldn’t muster up the strength to care.” Her tone was always accusatory.

  He pinched the bridge of his nose and contemplated asking her what the hell that was supposed to mean, but too much time had passed and now he simply didn’t care. The marriage was over, and he had no intention of taking that dive again. “Is that why you tracked me down?” His temples throbbed and he hoped like hell her answer would be no. Because if Roark didn’t want to work, he definitely didn’t want to talk to his ex-wife about the demise of their marriage.

  The quick intake of breath being released with a loud huff was a sign she didn’t like his question. She was probably running her fingers through her hair too. That’s what she did when she was frustrated. Why that memory of all things slapped at his already bad mood, he didn’t know.

  “I wanted to express my condolences. I read about the fire and Maxine’s death.”

  “Thank you.,” The response came as if he were still on autopilot.

  “How are Ridge and Suri holding up?”

  “They’re fine.”

  “Right,” she snapped. “Because you’re taking care of them. And nobody needs to take care of you, because you’re Roark Gideon Donovan. You’re the strongest, most dependable, most—”

  “I’m at work, Katrina.” He’d interrupted her because he didn’t need to hear what his ex thought of him. Not today. “I appreciate your call, but we’re all handling this as best we can.”

  She sighed. “I don’t want to fight with you, Roark.”

  He couldn’t tell if that were true or not, so he just didn’t respond.

  “Did all of your family come? I know Maxine loved to see your father’s side of the family more than her own. She hated that you guys were the only Donovans in London.” Katrina was from Toronto. He’d met her when he’d been there on a business trip. For a couple of months, they’d done the long-distance thing but he’d quickly tired of that and had asked her to move to London. She’d accepted, and he’d leased her a flat for a year before they were married.

  “All of them couldn’t come, but enough did. It was great seeing them.” It had actually been really nice to have so much family so close by for a few days. Suri had loved being around all the children.

  “I would’ve come too. If you’d called to let me know what was going on.”

  “You made your loss of interest in me and my family pretty clear four years ago.” His words were filled with hurt and disdain, even though he hadn’t felt anything for Katrina in a very long time.

  “And now I’m making it known that I wish I would’ve been told the woman who’d once been my mother-in-law was dead. Damn, Roark you don’t have to be such an insufferable ass all the time.”

  “I have to be who I am.” And in doing so, that did make him insufferable most of the time. He was already aware of that fact. How many times had he had to be the bad guy with Ridge and Suri? How many times had they hated something he’d done or said in regard to a decision they’d made? But that hadn’t mattered; Roark did what he thought his father would’ve done in the same circumstances. He took care of his family the way he’d always done, and he didn’t give a damn who disagreed with that.

  “I wanted to be there, Roark. Can’t you understand that, at least? I would’ve liked to have been there to see her one last time.”

  “It was a closed casket.” Because her body had been burned too badly for any other option.

  She made another sound that he knew meant she was getting tired of this conversation. That was fine—he was too. “Tell, Ridge and Suri how sorry I am that she’s gone.” She took a quick breath. “And sorry that they’re stuck with you.”

  The line disconnected before he could respond, and Roark slowly placed the headset back on the base. He wasn’t giving Ridge and Suri that message, just as he wasn’t going to acknowledge how much the disappointed sound of Katrina’s voice reiterated how he’d failed at being a good husband. Not only had he failed with her, the marriage hadn’t produced any children either, both facts he knew had saddened his mother.

  The Next Day

  “The last will and testament of Maxine Luraye Donovan states as follows.” Francois Favre had been the family attorney since before Roark was born. His lean frame sat hunched over a large dark wood desk. Wire-rimmed glasses were perched midway down the length of his nose, and his long fingers shook slightly as they held onto the papers he now read from.

  Roark sat in the middle guest chair across from Francois, his elbows resting on the arms of the chair, his gaze aimed at the solicitor. Per their usual seating arrangement, which was more than a little strange, Ridge was on one side of him and Suri was on the other. They were the only ones summoned to this meeting with the solicitor, but Aunt Birdie sat on the green-and-burgundy paisley print couch across the room. She’d insisted on coming, and while Roark could’ve put his foot down and staunchly refused, he hadn’t had the energy to turn away one of his oldest relatives.

  “I nominate and appoint Roark G. Donovan as Personal Representative,” Francois continued.

  That fact was of surprise to no one, especially not Roark. He’d been running his mother’s house as if he were the head of the household since he was twenty-five, and before then—in the years between his father’s passing and Roark coming of age—Francois had handled all the legal stuff for Maxine. Other attorneys at the large firm where Francois worked took care of Donovan Oilwell legal business. Once Roark had finished college and taken over the company, he’d made sure all the firm’s attorneys reported directly to him with everything involving his mother and the oil well.

  Francois went on for another twenty minutes, going over every detail of the thirty-page will, and nobody said a word. But the silence didn’t last long. “Now,” Francois continued. “You’ll recall in the first few pages where the expenses were discussed. It was your mother’s wish that funeral and burial expenses be paid as soon after her death as reasonably convenient.”

  “Everything was paid upfront,” Roark interrupted.

  Francois’ cool gray eyes peered over th
e top of his glasses. “As evidenced by the copies of the funeral director and the cemetery’s bill you provided.”

  Roark caught the tendrils of annoyance in the solicitor’s comment, but he didn’t care. He wanted to get this over with quickly. “Then there should be no need to discuss those expenses at this time.”

  “Let him do what he’s getting paid to do,” Aunt Birdie added.

  Suri reached between the two chairs to touch Roark’s arm, and when he looked over to her, it was to see her giving him a “calm down, it’s almost over” nod. He took a deep breath and released it slowly while Francois turned his attention to another stack of papers.

  “The insurance company is prepared to immediately release the funds from the policy it held. The check will need to be added to the estate to be processed. Then it may be disbursed in equal amounts to Ridge, Suri and, of course, Roark.” Francois nodded at each one of them as he said their names.

  Ridge shifted in his chair. “We don’t need that money.”

  “You may do with it what you wish, sir,” Francois told him with a nod. “But I must add that in light of the murder investigation, what you do with that money may become—”

  Suri dropped her hand from Roark’s arm. “Murder investigation?”

  Francois stopped speaking and glanced at Suri, then to Roark. When Roark didn’t immediately speak, Francois huffed. “The autopsy report stated cause of death as homicide. That means someone killed your mother.” His tone was brisk and without any emotion.

  Roark wanted to reach out and grab him by his scrawny neck.

  Suri was immediately out of her chair. “What?”

  Ridge sat forward. “Wait a minute, why are we just hearing about this?”

  “Because I didn’t want to tell you until we had more information.” Roark knew the moment the words were out that all eyes would turn to him, but he wasn’t prepared for how heated those glares would be.