She Used Me for a Dare… Now I Own Her Mother - Chapter 259: Special Gift

Chapter 259: Special Gift

The custom-built limousine cut through the traffic, silent and powerful.

“What do you think, Jonathan?” Richard Blackwood glanced at the man seated beside him. “Why the sudden invitation?”

Jonathan… his most trusted bodyguard and assistant… considered the question.

“I don’t think it’s anything particularly important, sir. That old man is cunning. He wants to strengthen the bond between you publicly. Prove to the other families that he’s your most important supporter in the entire faction.”

Richard laughed.

“Well… he is important.”

He turned to watch the city blur past the tinted windows.

The Steele family. His most crucial asset. He’d become a regular visitor to their estate over the past year, grown to enjoy their company.

Or at least, certain aspects of it.

A few years ago, Richard Blackwood had been unknown to the public. Now, he was the strongest candidate for next Blackwood family head.

The path hadn’t been easy. He’d clawed for it. Done things both honorable and unspeakable. Removed obstacles. Secured loyalties from families who’d once dismissed him as irrelevant.

He’d never thought he could achieve it.

Now, he had no doubt he would.

The car slowed as they approached the Steele estate gates.

The person who opened his door was Edward Steele himself.

The old man bent slightly in greeting, a warm smile spreading across his refined features.

“Welcome to this humble abode, Mr. Blackwood.”

’This bastard,’ Jonathan thought, his lips twitching almost imperceptibly. ’The old fox was laying it on thick today.’

Richard stepped out and caught the older man’s shoulder, stopping the formal bow.

“Oh, Mr. Steele.” Richard’s voice carried warmth and a hint of reproach. “I don’t like people doing this to me. Especially you.”

Edward’s smile widened.

“I can do this much for the future head of House Blackwood,” the old man said with a laugh, the flattery delivered smoothly but not insincerely.

Richard’s eyes scanned the gathered men behind Edward… retainers, guards, family members… searching for one face in particular.

“I don’t see Mrs. Steele,” he said casually, though a flicker of disappointment crossed his features. That beauty always made these visits more… interesting.

Edward’s expression shifted slightly, something careful entering his tone.

“She would have eagerly welcomed you, but unfortunately she’s not present at the moment.” He gestured toward the mansion with practiced hospitality. “Please, come inside. We have much to discuss.”

Richard nodded, and they started toward the mansion. Edward positioning himself half a step behind Richard… close enough to converse, far enough to show deference.

Jonathan noticed. The old man never did anything by accident.

“I must apologize for the short notice,” Edward said, his tone light. “But I recently came across some information I thought might interest you.”

Richard’s stride didn’t falter, but Jonathan caught the slight tilt of his head. Interest.

“Oh?”

“Vanderbilts.” Edward let the name sit for a moment. “They’ve been making moves lately. Quiet ones. The kind that don’t make headlines until it’s too late.”

Richard glanced at him. “Vivienne Vanderbilt, You have information about her? ”

“I have opportunities, Mr. Blackwood.” Edward’s laugh was warm, self-deprecating. “Information is for spies. I’m merely an old man who hears things.”

He paused, letting silence do its work.

“Properties. Media ventures. Certain… partnerships she’s cultivating in places that might surprise you.” His voice dropped, conspiratorial. “I happen to know a few details. Recent acquisitions. People she’s been meeting. The kind of information that’s difficult to come by.”

Richard said nothing, but his silence was its own answer.

Edward smiled… the patient smile of a man who knew he’d hooked his fish.

“I thought the future head of House Blackwood should know when certain families… those not yet aligned with our cause… are expanding their reach.”

They entered the grand foyer… marble floors, ancestral portraits, the subtle smell of old money. Servants bowed as they passed. Edward waved them away with practiced ease, as if such displays embarrassed him.

The study doors opened.

Inside, a fire crackled. Two chairs faced each other across a low table. The positioning was perfect… equal height, equal distance from the warmth.

Jonathan took his position by the door, watching Edward help Richard into his seat with the attentiveness of a devoted uncle.

A soft knock. A young woman entered carrying a silver tray… porcelain teapot, two cups, steam curling like silk. She moved without sound, setting the tray down with practiced grace.

Edward gestured toward the cup nearest Richard.

“Please,” he said warmly. “I had this prepared specially. The Darjeeling you favored during your last visit.”

Richard lifted the cup, inhaling the aroma before taking a slow sip. A small nod of approval.

Edward smiled, pleased, and raised his own cup.

For a moment, the room held nothing but the quiet clink of porcelain and the soft crackle of the fireplace.

Then Edward set down his cup, his aged hands folding peacefully in his lap.

His eyes sharpened beneath the grandfatherly warmth.

“Now then,” he said. “Shall we discuss the Vanderbilts?”

***

After they discussed the Vanderbilts… mapping out Vivienne’s network, her recent acquisitions, the whispers of which faction she might align with and what that would mean for the balance of power… Edward leaned back in his chair with a satisfied expression.

“Well then,” the old man said, eyes glinting with something between mischief and satisfaction. “I believe we’ve handled the urgent matters adequately.”

He paused, letting silence stretch for a calculated heartbeat.

“But Mr. Blackwood… you’ve come all this way. It would be remiss of me not to offer proper hospitality.” His tone shifted, becoming almost conspiratorial. “As is our… custom.”

Richard’s expression didn’t change, but Jonathan caught the subtle shift in his posture. Interest. Recognition.

Edward continued, his smile widening with grandfatherly warmth that didn’t quite reach his calculating eyes.

“I’ve arranged something special today. Very special.” He leaned forward slightly, voice dropping into a more intimate register. “I think you’ll find it quite… enjoyable.”

The implication was crystal clear.

Jonathan’s jaw tightened imperceptibly. He knew exactly what the old fox was offering.

The old fox knew exactly where Richard was weak. Not common beauty… that bored him. Richard wanted women who mattered. Successful. Sharp. The kind who commanded rooms before they spoke.

Whenever Richard visited, Edward made sure such women were present. Gifts wrapped in silk and deniability. An unspoken arrangement, perfected over the past year.

And from Edward’s mischievous expression, today’s offering was something exceptional.

Jonathan stepped forward smoothly, his voice professionally neutral.

“Sir, we have an important meeting scheduled this afternoon.” He met Richard’s gaze meaningfully. “We should be going.”

Edward’s hand rose in gentle protest before Richard could respond.

“Come now, Mr. Jonathan.” The old man’s tone carried amused reproach. “It’s not good to waste his youth drowning in meetings. Even ambitious men need to relax occasionally.”

He gestured toward a servant girl standing attentively near the door… young, beautiful, eyes downcast with practiced submission.

“I’ve already prepared accommodations. Everything has been arranged with the utmost discretion.” Edward’s smile widened as he glanced at Jonathan. “And of course, I’ve prepared something suitable for you as well, Mr. Jonathan. No reason you should stand guard while…”

“I appreciate the offer, Mr. Steele,” Jonathan interrupted smoothly, his tone polite but final. “But I’m good.”

Edward chuckled, spreading his hands in gracious acceptance.

“As you wish. More for our young friend here, then.”

He turned to Richard, eyebrows raised in gentle invitation.

Richard was already standing, straightening his jacket with a slight smile that carried both amusement and anticipation.

“It would be rude to refuse such thoughtful hospitality,” he said, voice light but carrying an edge of something darker. Something eager.

Jonathan suppressed a sigh.

Of course he was willing. He always was.

Edward clapped his hands once, and the servant girl stepped forward immediately.

“Please escort Mr. Blackwood to the east wing,” Edward instructed, his tone shifting to businesslike efficiency. “Everything has been prepared as discussed.”

The girl bowed gracefully.

“This way, Mr. Blackwood.”

Richard followed without hesitation, casting a brief glance back at Jonathan that said ’wait here, I won’t be long.’

Jonathan’s expression remained professionally blank.

He’d wait. He always did.

As Richard disappeared down the hallway, Edward settled back into his chair with visible satisfaction, gesturing for a servant to refill his tea.

“Young men,” he said conversationally, as if discussing the weather. “So much energy. So many… appetites.”

Jonathan’s voice cut low and cold.

“Old man. If you weren’t so important and loyal… I would have cut you to pieces for this.”

Edward didn’t flinch. His smile only widened.

“Oh, come now, Mr. Jonathan.” He waved a hand lazily. “I’m simply providing him a means to relax. He’s been so tense these days.”

“Hmph.”

Jonathan said nothing more.

The old man chuckled quietly, sipping his tea with the contentment of someone who’d just secured another thread of influence.

And Jonathan stood by the door, watching. Waiting.

***

The servant girl led Richard down the corridor, her footsteps silent on marble. She stopped before a set of ornate double doors, bowing gracefully as she gestured him inside.

Richard entered.

The lock clicked behind him.

His eyes found the bed… and stayed there.

She sat with her back to him, bare skin glowing amber in the candlelight. The white sheet pooled at her waist, thin as mist, hiding nothing of the curves beneath. Her hair fell in dark waves down her spine, brushing the small of her back like ink spilled on silk.

She didn’t turn.

Didn’t need to.

One shoulder shifted slightly. A slow, deliberate movement. An invitation.

Richard’s throat tightened.

He stepped forward.

She turned her head… just enough to reveal the edge of a smile.

And then he saw her face.

His blood ran cold.