Chapter 16
"You need to fix it!" Lisa barged into the office with the harried assistant on her heels. Eyes blazing, she whirled around and sent the woman scampering away. Slamming the doors shut, she fisted her hands on her hips and glared at the man behind the baronial desk.
"Let me call you right back." Robert slowly put the phone down and gave his daughter a gimlet stare. "You'd better have a damn good reason for storming in here like your tail is on fire. That was a very important phone call. In case you haven't heard, we're in a mess. The airline merger has stalled and—"
"I don't care." She punctuated her passionate statement by striding forward. "Your son is in trouble—"
His mouth tightened at the mention of Leon. "My son got himself tangled up in a crappy situation. A secret marriage?" When the boy had confessed to him what he had done, Robert had hit the roof. "Do you know the legal ramifications—"
"Legalities?" She planted her hands on his desk, eyes blazing. "Is that all you can think of? He's suffering, for Christ's sake. He's been away for more than a week, and they—he and his wife—are both the worse for it. He's planning on filing for divorce—"
"Which will make things a hell of a lot worse! She'll be entitled to pretty much half of everything." His blood pressure felt as if it was spiking, and his heart was pounding. He wanted to strangle the boy. "And with that family—"
"The woman was your best friend!"
"She was more than that!" he shouted back. Shoving away from the desk, he marched over to the recessed cabinet and shoved at the button viciously. Grabbing the bottle of scotch, he poured a generous amount and turned to face his furious daughter. "She was more than that," he repeated quietly. Walking to the sofa in front of the window, he sat down shakily. "I loved her. Christ!" He took a fortifying sip and leaned back, closing his eyes. "I loved her. I would have married her, but she didn't love me that way. So I stepped back. When she chose Donaldson, it pissed me off, and I decided to hell with her. But she was in trouble, and I had to be there." His expression turned bleak. "She was too good for that conniving, low-down bastard, and I tried to tell her." He gave a jerky shrug, barely noticing that she had come to sit next to him. "All he wanted was her money. I could have killed him for using her like that. And for a while, I despised her for choosing him over me." He drank some more as if to get rid of the bitterness that burned his throat. "But when she came to me, I had to help her." He jolted when she touched his arm.
"Now her daughter is in trouble. Dad, she's suffering. I went to see her, and that man is making her life hell. He's pretending to be sick—I know he is—and he's using guilt to keep her chained to him. Leon has been away for more than a week, and I know he's hiding. He refused to speak to me. She cried—" Lisa bit her lip as she recalled the crack in the woman's fa?ade, the hopelessness on her face. "He hasn't called her since he asked for a divorce."
"Damn fool." He muttered. "Why couldn't he have told me before doing something like this?"
"Because he was in love, and the situation looked hopeless. He was in love with the enemy, and they felt like they had no other choice." She squeezed his arm again and forced him to look at her. "You loved her mother. This is the daughter, and this has come full circle. She needs your help."
His brows arched. "What do you propose I do about it? The lawyers are going to have a field day—"
"No." She shook her head, expression firm. "Stop thinking about legalities. Your son is not happy. And if I don't miss my guess, I think his wife might be pregnant. She told me about her dizzy spells and nausea, thinking it's because of stress. I think it might be something else."
His eyes flared at that. "Again, what do you propose?"
She smiled. "You're the only one who can confront that man with his lies and set things straight. Kadian believes she's the one who caused his heart attack, and frankly, I don't believe he had one."
"One cannot have an attack if there's no heart." His scathing response had her smile widening.
"Precisely. Daddy—" She felt the flinching of his muscles at the name she hadn't used since she was sixteen. "They both need you. You work on the father, and I'll handle Leon and his wife." Leaning over, she kissed his cheek. "She's not after his money; she genuinely loves him. Please, do something."
For a long moment, Robert stared at the city through the leaded panes, the glass blurring the evening lights into trembling halos. The silence stretched, weighted with the burdens of years and the sharp ache of regret. Lisa sat quietly by his side, her fingers still curled around his sleeve, anchoring him to the present.
Finally, he drew in a shaky breath and set the tumbler aside. "This isn't just about business, is it?" he said, voice rough. "It's about not making the same mistakes again. About not turning away when someone needs you because pride gets in the damn way."
Lisa nodded. "You still have a chance to fix things, Dad. For Leon. For her. For yourself."
He pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes, as if he could rub away the memory of every wrong turn, every word left unsaid. When he looked at her again, the steel in his gaze had softened, replaced by something older, sadder—an acceptance, perhaps, or the first flicker of resolve.
"Tomorrow," he said, forcing his voice steady, "I'll talk to him. I'll make sure the truth comes out—about everything. But you're going to have to keep Leon from doing anything stupid in the meantime. Can you do that?"
She managed a small smile. "If anyone can rein him in, it's me. I learned from the best."
A dry chuckle escaped him. "God help us all if you did."
For the first time that evening, the air between them felt lighter, as if the storm had broken and left the faintest promise of calm in its wake. Outside, the city's lights pulsed on, indifferent but eternal, as father and daughter sat together in the hush that follows confession—bracing themselves for the work and reckonings to come.
*****
Marge hurried over as soon as Kadian pushed the door open and stepped inside.
"There's a man here with your dad." The woman looked furtive and a little scared and anxious.
Kadian decided that she didn't have time for this. It was almost closing time, and she was looking forward to just finishing up and going straight to bed. She was so tired; it felt as if she was being dragged by ropes.
"Okay." Shrugging out of her jacket, she unwound the scarf and placed it over her arm. She had some paperwork to finish up. "Marge, I don't—you can leave whenever you want. The store is empty."
"It's Robert Whitlock." The woman had latched her fingers onto the sleeve of her sweater and wasn't letting go. "I recognize him."
Kadian went still at that, her heart taking a dive.
"Why is he here?"
The woman shrugged. "They're shouting at each other."
"Oh." For a minute, she just stood where she was.
"There are some things you need to know." Marge muttered. Tugging on Kadian's hand, she drew her over to the pastry table. "He forced me to play along with his scheme."
Shaking her head, Kadian focused on the woman standing in front of her, wringing her hands.
"What are you talking about?"
"Your father." She rushed on to say. "He's not sick. He doesn't have a weak heart. He's been pretending so that he could keep you here." She sucked in a breath. "We're lovers." She gripped her hands together. "I'm in love with him, but he was just using me. I-I know about the marriage and that he wants to mess things up for you. That's what he and Robert Whitlock are in there arguing about."
Kadian simply stared at the woman and felt the buzzing starting in her ears. "I don't understand. Dad lied to me?"
"Yes." Taking her hand, Marge urged her toward the back. "Go and listen. When you come back out, I will be gone. And I won't be coming back." The woman stared at her wistfully. "Your father is a very sick man, and I'm not talking physically, but emotionally. And he's a user. Go. And when you hear everything, try to make it up with your husband."
Even after Marge had left, she just stood there. The impact of what she had just heard roared through her body and weakened her knees. It was a mistake, she decided frantically. She was lying. Surely her father would never— Galvanized into action, she rushed toward the back and stopped just outside the door. The argument was heated. Pushing the door open, she saw her dad standing at the window and Robert Whitlock facing him. Both men were so absorbed in the argument, neither of them noticed she had entered the room.
"You did the same thing to her mother, you son of a bitch, and now you're doing it to her. Your own daughter." Robert's voice was as cold as ice. "You used Kathy, bled her dry, and she still stood by you. Now you're wreaking havoc on your daughter's life. Who the hell are you?"
"You stole from me!"
"You were the one who did the stealing. You had this warped idea of what life is supposed to be. All these get-rich-quick schemes. You cleaned her out—Kathy gave you everything, and you took without conscience."
"She cheated on me, with you!"
Robert stepped forward, and for a few seconds, Kadian feared he was going to get physical.
"She was faithful, and you knew it. Always was. You didn't deserve her, you bastard."
"And you did?" her father sneered. "You with your family money and your good looks and privileged lifestyle. She was always going to you for advice. I deserved the money that her filthy parents gave to charity."
"And that's why you married her."
Kadian held her breath and waited for the response.
"So what the hell?" he said. "I was born poor. I never knew my father, and my mother was weak and stupid. She cleaned people's houses—rich people who looked down on her. I wanted better."
"At least she did an honest day's work. What the hell did you do?"
"I married someone with money!" he shouted. "I would have had it all—if it wasn't for..." His voice trailed off as he noticed his daughter standing there. "Honey—"
"Oh my God." She whispered, her heart shattering. "What have you done?"
"All lies. This bastard came in here and—"
"I heard everything, Dad. And Marge confessed." She looked at the man standing there, her father-in-law for now. "Why did you come?"
"My son is hurting, and so are you." He told her quietly. "I came to set things straight."
"He's lying. He wants to come between us. I'm a sick man—"
"Stop it!" She pressed her hand to her quivering stomach. "You were determined to ruin my happiness because you cannot allow yourself to be happy." She shook her head and lifted her chin. "No more. Leon has asked me for a divorce, and I am going to do my very best to convince him he's making a mistake." Her gaze swung to his father. "I love him so much. This past week has been so hard—"
"On him too." Robert moved forward to take her hands in his. On impulse, he leaned down and kissed her cheek. "Your mother was one of the best women I knew. I have a feeling she passed those traits to you." He squeezed her hands. "Welcome to the family, my dear." Without sparing a glance for the man he had been arguing with, he left.
The silence stretched for several minutes as father and daughter stared at each other.
"You're choosing that man over your own flesh and blood."
Tears glittered in her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. "There wouldn't have to be a choice. I loved you." She pressed her lips together. "But yes, I'm choosing my husband. It's up to you if you want to finally bury your bitterness and accept him. It's time I started thinking about my own happiness for a change." She turned to leave, and with her hand on the doorknob, she looked at him over her shoulder. "You never had a heart problem."
He bristled. "I had problems, and it was your duty as a daughter to do your part. You owed me."
Sadness descended on her like a flood and had her swaying. "I don't owe you anything. You're my dad, and you're supposed to love me. That's it. You used me, and for that—" She shook her head. "Goodbye, Dad."
"Don't you dare leave!" he shouted after her. "That man is going to chew you up and spit you out, and don't you come crawling back to me. Rich people are all the same—they care about the money and nothing else."
Closing the door on the rest of his ranting, she leaned against it and took several deep breaths. For the first time in ages, she felt light.
*****
He was tired and heartsick.
All he wanted to do was drink himself into oblivion and turn everything off.
His sister had nagged him to come home, saying that she missed him and wanted to discuss the progress of the clinic with him.
He had to admit that he was running away, staying away from her.
Stepping into the foyer, he dropped his bag and frowned at the aroma coming from his kitchen.
He had instructed his housekeeper not to bother with any cooking.
Besides, he wasn't hungry.
Ignoring the aroma, he headed up the stairs, and then it hit him.
Goddammit! His hand gripped the banister.
She was his wife.
Till death.
His mouth thinned.
He had told her that he wanted a divorce, but it was just BS.
He wasn't going to let her go.
He would sort through his emotions tonight and find himself at the bookstore tomorrow to assert his authority.
With that in mind, he bounded up the steps and headed for his suite.
He pushed the door of his bedroom open and simply stood there staring.
It was a trick of the mind.
He had been thinking about her too much, and as a result, he was hallucinating.
He was rooted to the spot, his hungry gaze taking in the exquisite face that had haunted his dreams and every waking moment.
Then she spoke. Turning to face him, she smiled and gestured to the open doors of the huge closet. "I packed my things on one side." Her gesture was uncertain, as if she was waiting for him to tell her to go. "It's embarrassing to realize that my husband has so many more clothes than I do."
He blinked and found his voice from a throat that was so tight, the words came out as a croak. "I guess we're going to have to fix that. What—"
"I'm here." She rushed to say. "For good. You said you want a divorce—"
"I don't." He finally nudged his weakened knees to move forward. She was wearing peach—the silk nightie so transparent, she was practically naked. Her hair was brushed back and glowed with life down her back. He could smell her from where he was, and he knew if he didn't have her right now, he was going to die or simply go mad. He had no idea how he made it across the room until he was standing in front of her.
"Leon—"
"Shh." His hands lifted, and he trailed his fingers over her satiny cheeks. "You're here. Oh God." She let out a startled gasp as he hauled her into his arms. The kiss was brutal, a hungry man finally being fed. His hands roamed over her body, and suddenly, the wispy material was off, as if it had just melted from her body. He wanted flesh. Her flesh. He was going to devour her. He was sure he was going to eat her up. That was how hungry he was.
And it was going to be bloody rough. His heart was pounding, his blood boiling at such an alarming rate he felt faint.
How the hell could he ever think he wanted to divorce her? Was he mad? Lifting her up, he carried her to the bed—his bed, their bed. She was here—Christ Almighty! She was here. He felt his body harden until he started to ache. Stepping back, he tore the clothes off his body and climbed in, climbed on top of her. His green eyes were blazing, his breath coming in pants. It was going to be swift; right now, he wanted swift and instant gratification.
"I'm sorry." His voice was hoarse, his body shuddering. "I'm sorry. I don't want to hurt you."
Her arms came around his neck, and she lifted her mouth to his. "I don't care. Now, please. Oh God, Leon, I want you inside me—" The rest of the words came out in a scream as he drove into her. His breath whistled through his mouth. She came violently, her scream rending the air.
"Take more." He went mad as her slender body trembled beneath his. "Give me all."
She came again, her face buried in his chest as her very foundation was rocked. He came—long and hard, his mind a whirl of emotions so searing it shattered his heart.
He went weak and couldn't move, just collapsed on her, his face buried in her hair.
"I'll move in a day or two," he told her drunkenly.
Laughing softly, she banded her arms around him to keep him there. "No rush."
"Baby, I'm crushing you." Making an effort, he shifted, gathering her against him so she was resting on his shoulder. He brushed the tendrils of hair sticking to her forehead. "You're here. To stay." Emotions stormed through him, and he could not breathe.
"Yes." Lifting her head, she touched his face, the tears trembling on her eyelids. Taking a deep breath, she told him what had happened between their fathers.
"Dad?" He blinked.
"Yes." She smiled tremulously. "He stood up for us. Your sister—" Her mouth trembled. "She went to him and demanded that he fix things."
His hands were not quite steady—Christ, his heart was not steady. He told her that he had concluded that he would be a fool to let her go. "I was taking tonight to rest and was coming to get you tomorrow."
Her eyes widened. "Really?"
"Hmm." He kissed her softly. "I cannot live without you."
Her lips trembled. "There's something else." She leaned in and kissed him. "We're having a baby."
He went still, his heart simply stopping before speeding up. "I love you," he whispered thickly. "I love you."
*****
Their son Leon Robert was born seven months later. It took that much time for her father to come around, and even so, the relationship was tentative. But at least they were talking. And he had softened enough to roughly apologize.
"Tired, babe?" Her husband came into the room and sat on the edge of the bed, stroking her cheek gently. Their son was sleeping inside his cot, his little fists clenched. Their combined family had finally left. Lisa with her month-old baby girl and her husband had been the last to leave.
"A little." She placed her hand over his and closed her eyes as she breathed in his scent. Tears burned the back of her throat as she thought about the last seven months and the time they had wasted.
"Sweetheart—" Alarm spread across his face as he got into bed next to her. "Are you in pain? Goddammit, darling, I told you—the visitors were too much—"
"No." Her voice was husky. She clung to him and buried her face in his chest. "I love you," she whispered. "You have given me so much, I can't—"
He was shaken when she burst into tears and clung even tighter. The time he spent with her, the pregnancy, living with her had changed him completely. He felt as if his life had started when she came into it.
He waited her out, until the tears had eased to sniffles, before lifting her chin. Her cheeks were wet, lashes spiky with moisture, and to him, she was the most beautiful woman in the world. And completely his.
"My darling," he whispered, kissing the tear-stained cheeks. "My life, my everything." Gathering her against him, he held her close, his heart and life complete.
The end…