30. Gage #2
My nostrils flare.
“I wanted to rattle your cage, Mr. Hollingsworth. Mission accomplished.”
I roll my eyes. “If you’re trying to be funny, that was an epic fail.”
“You saw her first,” Larkin says. “A real man doesn’t mess around with another man’s girl.”
My lips stretch into a thin line. “In that case, why poke the bear? ”
“Because for the past three years, you’ve made it a point to use women for one specific thing.”
“And you haven’t deviated. Ever.” Rhys piggybacks on Larkin’s campaign. “Lily is the perfect candidate to help you break the curse.”
My hands dive into my hair to tug at the strands.
Larkin and Rhys are aware of the demons I’ve been battling for the past three years. Fuck them for using that knowledge to manipulate me.
“Mr. Hartford is right. A beauty with raven hair, passing through the City of Angels, enticed you to break your self-imposed rule.”
My eyes bounce to Larkin. “So, now you two are shrinks?”
Larkin shakes his head. “A blind man could see what was unfolding.”
“My bad. You’re a poet. Rhys is the shrink.”
Larkin levels me with a threatening gaze.
I don’t avert my eyes.
“It’s your prerogative to keep your head stuck in the sand, Mr. Hollingsworth.”
A long beat passes.
Me, stewing.
Rhys and Larkin alternate between staring at me and glancing at each other.
I cross my arms over my chest.
The walls around my heart have been reinforced with high security locks and chains. The plan was to never let anyone in.
Then came Lily…
“Own it, Gage,” Rhys says. “You stole the spotlight away from me on my birthday by making a hell of a statement. Don’t let it all go to waste.”
I open my mouth to tell them to mind their own damn business, but a petite blonde with almond-shaped hazel-brown eyes, dressed in a chic, sky-blue double-breasted blazer and a white skirt, approaches our table.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Gallagher, you have an important call from the Cayman Islands. I have the call on hold in your office.”
Larkin nods. “Thank you, Gloria,” he says. He rises to his feet. “Gentlemen, if you’ll excuse me, duty calls.” He shifts his attention to me. “Text me if you want the room.”
“Thank you,” I say.
Larkin cocks an eyebrow. “You didn’t flat out refuse my offer. Progress.”
I don’t have a comeback.
“I’ll forward the details so your date is aware of the dress code,” he says.
I nod.
“Oh, Mr. Hollingsworth, you’re going to love the dress code,” Larkin says.
“That theme party kicks ass in terms of dress code for the women,” Rhys says. “We show up in a boring suit.”
“It’s a favorite among members,” Larkin says. “It has to do with the good versus bad rhetoric that’s been drilled into Catholics for centuries?—”
“Same goes for Anglicans,” Rhys says.
“Point taken.” Larkin nods. “At Dark Compulsion you get to live out the good versus bad rhetoric in a far less dogmatic way. When you give a woman the permission to be bad, something switches in her brain… It’s going to be a night of debauchery.”
“I’m looking forward to it.” Rhys lifts his glass in salute.
Theme parties are particularly kinky at the club. I have no doubt Angels and Demons will live up to its promise.
With a nod, Larkin turns on his heel, Gloria and his beefy Irish shadows following him.
Bringing Lily to Dark Compulsion is crazy. Even more so on a theme night. Now that Larkin has planted the seed in my head, I’m dying to corrupt her at the club.
Needing time to digest it all, I pick up my sandwich and keep eating.
Rhys does the same.
It doesn’t take long for us to finish our food and wash it down with craft beer.
“It’s good you’re coming out tonight,” Rhys says, tucking his napkin underneath his empty plate.
“The jury is still out if I’m coming or not.”
He considers me for a long beat.
“What? I didn’t commit. I thanked Larkin for his willingness to give up his room,” I say. “This is an intimate part of my life. Lily will be on a flight to New York on Friday.”
“Not that I want to sound like a fucking motivational quote, but so much can happen in four days…”
I respond with a non-committal shrug.
“No one has the right to put a timestamp on grief,” he says.
He should know.
“You’re allowed to take as long as you need to make amends with the bleak reality of losing a parent.” He glances over his shoulder before returning his attention to me. “The guilt you’ve been carrying would break your mom’s heart.”
I’ll go to my grave with the guilt.
“I made a promise to my dad.” A lump forms in my throat.
“I swore to him I’d always look after Mom.
” Rhys has heard this story I can’t break free from before.
“The red flags were there. Mom said she was happy. I didn’t want to be the selfish son who told her she wasn’t allowed to love again.
I should’ve been like a dog on a bone. I bear the responsibility of her death on my shoulders. ”
After losing my mom, it got to a point where diving to the bottom of a top-shelf bottle of liquor was my only salvation. Grief almost cracked me wide open. Same for survivor guilt.
During that dark time in my life, I wasn’t as close to Rhys as I am now, but that didn’t stop him from being there for me when I needed it most.
I didn’t slide into full-blown alcoholism. I suffered from alcohol-related bereavement. Hours of therapy confirmed that.
Work helped me to move on, even though I knew I’d never be fully absolved of the role I played in my mother’s death.
“Aren’t you tired of holding up all those walls?” Rhys lets out an audible sigh. “It’s been three years, Gage…”
“I know it’s been three years.” I’ve been trapped in hell for that long.
“Let go of the guilt before it kills you.”