Chapter 21
JOSEPH
In coaxing Tiffany’s demons out, my own failed to scream. I sat here in the darkness as I have done so many times before. This time I wasn’t on my own. Su Yin doesn’t count. If anything, she is one of them. Making me confront them, tearing them from my memories with pain.
Tiffany shares my dark past.
Her admissions didn’t shock me. If anything, they were tame compared to my experiences, and yet for a small child robbed of her childhood, it was merely a vessel on which to sharpen my claws. Morgan has a lot to answer for, and I wonder who the man in the story was.
It can’t have been Raphael, surely. He is gay to my knowledge. One of the guards, perhaps. I’m guessing Enrico Zaferelli had many of those, but that’s not really Morgan’s style. Women like her don’t do anything without an ulterior motive. Something they can reap the rewards of.
It was about twelve years ago. Perhaps Morgan is still in touch with him. Perhaps they’ve been working together all the time.
Tiffany is silent beside me as we head to the dining room for our wedding feast. As we head inside, I note the care Mrs. Harrington has taken to make it celebratory, from the styled table with candles, cream roses, and white china.
A bucket of champagne is nestled on the stand beside my seat, and two glasses sparkle as they catch a glint of the winter sun.
“I love Mrs. Harrington.”
Tiffany’s pleasure is obvious as she smiles at the scene, something that tugs on what passes as my heart.
She is happy with the simplest of pleasures. A kind thought, a sweet gesture, and I hate how sad that makes me. She should have had it all, and many believed she did. She had nothing, but a troubled childhood that she is hiding away from now.
“Allow me.”
I pull out her chair, and as she drops down into it, she smiles up at me, and her genuine delight punches me square in the soul.
Her beauty is natural, not contrived, and comes from a good heart more than skill with makeup. She is natural, kind, and caring, and I wonder why I am drawn to that.
My fingers brush her shoulder as I edge the seat forward, and I picture her tied to the black bench, her tears sliding from under the blindfold.
I take my seat, my mind ablaze with retribution because I will not rest until I’ve avenged every single one of the demons from her past.
“I wish–”
She speaks, but her wish trails off, and I lean forward.
“What do you wish?”
“It’s silly, really, but well, I got married today and even though I’m aware it wasn’t a real one, not in the traditional sense, I well, would have liked my sisters to be there.”
“It was real, Tiffany.”
I state fact and she blushes, tugging at that infernal bottom lip that is all I can focus on right now.
“I know it’s legally binding, but um, it isn’t what I imagined a marriage to be.”
“You wanted what the bride at the town hall had, I suppose. The huge white dress, flowers, and family and friends. It’s understandable.”
“It’s not a lot to expect, and don’t get me wrong, I understand why it was, well, so businesslike because–”
Her hand trembles as she reaches for the water, and I notice the simple wedding band circling her finger that chains her to my side.
“Well, we had a deal.”
“The baby.”
It amuses me to add to her discomfort, and she nods, gulping the water as I pour her a glass of champagne.
“You will make the perfect mother, Tiffany.”
Compliments aren’t usual from me, and she stills, her eyes finding mine as a blush creeps over her face.
“So, you really want to go through with that?”
“Of course. It was the condition of our marriage.”
“It’s, well, so cold, don’t you agree?”
“I only think what my father tells me to.”
“Bullshit.”
I raise my eye and she shrugs, holding my gaze with an interesting, fierce gleam in hers.
“You don’t strike me as the kind of man who does what daddy tells him to.”
“You haven’t met my daddy, as you call him.”
It amuses me to picture him as anyone’s daddy. Cold-hearted bastard, monster, beast, devil, are some more familiar words.
“Tell me about him.”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because I choose not to. Tell me about yours instead.”
“I choose not to.”
Her sudden smile causes me to chuckle, and I surprise myself by reaching out and grasping her hand, loving how she smiles and doesn’t pull away.
“Are you curious about your mother?”
“Not really.”
“Why not?”
“Because she left me with him. She didn’t die. She ran away, and even though I’m guessing Morgan used that to bait me, I can’t forgive her for that. What mother leaves her child to live with a man she couldn’t? It doesn’t make sense, and so the only family I care about are my sisters.”
She hesitates and then flashes me a guilty smile.
“I haven’t learned to care about you yet, Joseph. As my newest family member, you must give me some time on that.”
“I’m not offended.”
I raise her fingers to my lips and note the sudden glow in her smile, and it strikes me how easy this is and I never imagined for a second it would be.
I nod at her plate.
“Help yourself, you will need food because after this we have an appointment to keep.”
“An appointment?”
“Your grandfather.”
“He’s here?”
She appears shocked at that.
“Yes, he has offices in London, and my intelligence tells me he is leaving tomorrow, so there isn’t much time.”
“Will he see us?”
“Of course. Spencer has arranged it.”
“Does he, well, does he, um, know I’m coming too?”
“It was the only reason he agreed to the meeting.”
“I see.”
She appears disappointed about that.
“What do you see?”
“You’re using me.”
“Of course I’m using you.”
I’m being deliberately harsh, and my only explanation for that is things are becoming too familiar between us. Too cozy if you like, and its territory I didn’t intend to wander into.
I prefer to keep Tiffany out in the cold for my own self-preservation, and the ring on her finger doesn’t alter that.
She nods, her expression changing as she closes emotion down as she understands my position.
I don’t feel bad for crushing her on our wedding day.
This is business, nothing more, and always will be.
Nobody will ever become important to me again.
It’s too painful when they leave. When they are forced to leave. When they have no choice but to leave.
Pain spears my heart as a reminder of what’s important in my world, and for a second, I struggle to contain the pain.
As Tiffany studies her food, I run my knife over my palm under the table, deep enough to hurt, letting the pain bleed out.
My soul sighs with relief as the demon breaks free, my attention firmly now on the physical pain rather than the mental one.
It’s almost euphoric as I watch it fly away, knowing it can’t destroy me, not today, anyway.