Chapter 12 #4
Chris turned to pull the steaming mug out from under the spout. He then repeated the coffee-making process with the other mug. Just as the machine’s workings began to make noise and she was about to lose her temper, he said, “I’ll tell you what I can.”
“Really?! That’s good, Dad! I know if we could just talk it through, we could smooth things out. He’s only heard one side of the story and—”
“Ireland.” He set the mug of creamy coffee in front of her. “I was just with Ronan. In your old office. I was clearing my things out when he showed up.”
She paused, briefly glancing at Bliz as he sprawled across the corner with one leg dangling off the edge. “You guys talked things out? Did you tell him you were coming over to see me? Because he didn’t say anything about you.”
His hands gripped the counter’s edge so forcefully that his fingers whitened.
“Is that so? He didn’t bother to mention that if I don’t sign away all my rights to the Vidal name, he might not save the company after all?
He didn’t tell you how he threw the fact that you’re sleeping together in my face? ”
Ireland felt a little dizzy and more than a little confused. “I’m not…I’m not saying I don’t believe you. But that doesn’t sound like Ronan.”
“Maybe it’s not who he usually is,” her father said grimly, “but that’s who he is with me. He’s filled with a vicious rage, Ireland. He blames me for the path his life took and the misfortune of everyone around him, and I can’t say he’s wrong for that.”
“Did you try explaining what happened?”
Chris shook his head. “No.”
“Sometimes just understanding why things went a particular way can bring some comfort or at least the ability to see the other side.”
“It’s not my story to tell. And there are other people to consider. What’s important for you to understand is that I don’t regret what I did, and if I had to do it over, I wouldn’t change anything. Ronan’s life would be what it’s been, and as terrible as it sounds, I can see why he hates me.”
“Dad—”
“Let me finish, please. He and I talked briefly, and I do think he feels something for you. While I’m inclined to be suspicious of anyone who storms into someone’s life with grand gestures, I can also understand how easily you can captivate someone.”
She gave him a sidelong look. “Sure.”
“I pursued your mother with single-minded focus and my own over-the-top gestures.”
“I know.” Ireland had heard all of the stories of their romance and treasured them. “Hang on a minute. I need to handle something while it’s fresh.”
She pulled her phone out of her sling and redialed Ronan on video. It barely rang once before the photo of him with his black cat morphed into his stunningly handsome face. She felt that now familiar punch of delight at the sight of his easy, warm smile.
“Cher, to what do I owe the pleasure of—” He frowned. “What’s wrong?”
“Oh, let’s see. Maybe the things you said to my father earlier today? Aren’t gentlemen not supposed to kiss and tell?”
He visibly dimmed. “I did intend to discuss it with you in person tonight. It was not my finest moment.”
She looked into his beautiful gray eyes as she slid slowly off the stool. “There’s a line, and you’ve crossed it. If you think using me to hurt my father is okay, this thing we’re doing is fucking over.”
“I won’t make excuses,” he replied without hesitation. “I was angry and thoughtless. It won’t happen again, I promise you.”
As her father grabbed the second mug of coffee, Ireland ambled into the living room. “I don’t think you can keep that promise. Not yet anyway. And my father isn’t giving up the rights to his name.”
Ronan gave her a very patient look. “You can’t ask me to build this company back up, cher, and allow him to profit from the name attached to it.”
“It’s his name, and whatever value it has is because of him.
I’m not asking you to reconsider—I’m telling you what’s unacceptable to me.
When I asked you to help me save Vidal, your condition was that my father had to leave the company.
He was packing up his things today. You can’t keep inventing new ways to punish him and also be with me, Ronan. ”
He stared back at her silently, his gorgeous face impassive and unreadable.
Ireland went on. “You’re gonna have to figure out whether hating him is your priority or if I am.”
His fingers touched the screen as if to touch her. He’d done the same thing during their earlier call, and it affected her no less now than it did then.
“Je suis désolé, tigress,” he murmured, his drawl thicker than usual.
“Sorry for what? Pissing me off? I have to go.”
“Attends! Am I still welcome later? I’d rather discuss this in person.”
She shrugged noncommittally, aware that she was vulnerable now while he was still so contained, in command of himself and his reactions. “Depends on what you decide.”
“You know I’ve already decided.” He reached for his tie and loosened it. “I’ve conceded to your every demand so I can have you the way I need you. My envie for you consumes me.”
His tone was too even, almost emotionless. But his gaze was fiery.
“You’re angry,” she noted. “I told you the price was too high, and you didn’t want to hear it. If you want to complain about it now, tell it to someone else.”
“I’ll text you when I’m on the way over,” he said implacably. “And yes, I’m sorry you’re angry, but I’m also sorry for what I said. You have every right to take me to task.”
“Oh, shut up,” she groused, exasperated. “I’m hanging up now.”
As she ended the call and turned back to the kitchen, her father leaned back into the counter facing her. Holding his mug in both hands, he noted thoughtfully, “He’s very different with you.”
“I’m different with him.” And she wasn’t sure that was a good thing.
“What do you think he’ll do if you decide to move on from him or meet someone else? You’re the only thing keeping him from tearing the company apart.”
“Daddy…I don’t know.” She’d told Ronan about her ambivalence toward the business before she discovered his agenda. She knew he thought she might be happier doing something else.
That was the problem with legacies: later generations were shackled to their forebearers’ dreams.
“He’s only shown you the best side of himself,” Chris pointed out. “If you saw the rage inside him, you’d be concerned, too. And I can tell you he gets that temper from his father and the rest of the Boudreauxes. Thinking of you anywhere around them makes me sick.”
Her stomach tightened with anxiety as she reached the island. “Ronan thinks you acted maliciously. If you’d just tell him that you did what you believed was the right thing to do and that you’re sorry for what he’s been through, it might help smooth things out.”
“I don’t think so. And if you ask him, I’m sure he’ll confirm that, so go ahead. I could tell him things about the Boudreauxes that could shed some light, but it might alienate him from the family.” He exhaled in a rush. “I’d only aggravate his anger or hurt him further.”
Ireland stared at the father she adored, trusted, and knew to be a good man, and was at a loss for words. It was untenable to be deeply intimate with someone who nursed a hatred for him. She was in an impossible position because Ronan was also someone she adored, trusted, and believed to be good.
Her phone started ringing, and like a zombie, she mindlessly picked it up and glanced at the screen.
She’d had to limit the contacts who could break through her privacy screens because of the insane number of texts and voicemails she had received over the weekend, some from people she hadn’t spoken to in years.
Seeing the building’s reception desk, she answered.
“Hello, Ms. Vidal,” the doorman greeted her. “Christopher and Natalie Vidal are here to see you.”
In the background, she could hear Lorenzo and Serena—her beloved nephew and niece—chattering excitedly. “Yes, please send them up.”
Ending the call, she looked helplessly at her father. “Christopher, Nat, and the kids are here.”
He stared back at her with dark, worried eyes. “I can’t tell you what to do, Ireland. I only ask that you please, please tread carefully.”