Chapter 13
Theo
My butler looks alarmed when I walk into the penthouse. “I did not give her the combination,” he says.
“What combin—shit!”
The contract is in my grandmother’s hand, trembling in her grip. Her glare is sharp and icy. “Everything you told me about Holland was a lie. She lied.”
She blows out a hard breath and throws the contract down. It slides across the floor to my feet.
“Did you hate the idea of marrying Poppy Perry this much?”
“Yes,” I say immediately. “I have no desire to marry anyone.”
“Not even Holland?” she asks.
That question is a fist to my heart.
Bending, I pick up the contract and walk back to the safe. I punch in the code and put the papers back. The breakup arrangement is complete. I should shred the contract and move on with my life. I should act like I never met Holland.
But I can’t. It’s the only link I have left to her.
“I won’t marry her, either,” I say. I will keep her safe.
My grandmother studies me, seeing too much. “Because of what that bitch Eleanor did?”
I still, surprised by the viciousness in her voice. “You knew about that?” I never said a word. Neither did my brothers.
“Why do you think Eleanor suddenly left the country and has never returned?”
“Did you tell her to do that?”
“I merely suggested how awful it would be if she spent her life in prison.”
“On what charges?”
“I would have come up with something, but I didn’t have to go that far.” My grandmother walks to the window and stares out at the view. Rain pelts the window, lightly at first, but thunder growls with the promise of worsening weather.
“You should have told me what your father did to you.”
“You knew?”
“I called Locke while you were talking to Holland and he told me everything. How can that monster be my son?” She suddenly places her hand on my arm. “He’ll be dealt with in a way that will leave him unable to hurt you again.”
“You plan to ruin your own son?”
“He crossed me.” She lowers her hand, her voice clipped. “And he left my grandson on the side of the road like you were garbage. Both are unforgivable.”
“And what I did isn’t unforgivable? Lying to you to hold onto a position?”
“I forced the issue with the marriage ultimatum.”
“You did,” I agree. “But just so we’re clear, I’m not marrying Poppy. Shall I step down as CEO?”
“The ultimatum doesn’t mean it must be Poppy.” She studies me again seeing too much. “Marry Holland instead.”
“I can’t.” How could I taint her with the ugliness in my world?
“You’re a Montclair. Can’t is not a word you get to use as an excuse.” Her eyes narrow. “Don’t lie and say you don’t love her.”
I won’t deny the truth, but that doesn’t mean we stand a chance.
“We haven’t known each other long. The odds of a relationship working out in such a short amount of time are slim.”
My grandmother scoffs. “I knew your grandfather for five hours before we married. We’ve been together over fifty years.”
Her voice softens like she’s picturing her yesterdays. “Time is irrelevant when you meet the right person.”
“My father would use her to get to me.”
“Your father will leave the country tonight and he will not be able to return.” She walks toward the door. “I’m leaving now. What you do next is up to you.”
Rain slams harder against the window as the sky darkens. I stick a finger in my tie to loosen the knot and stare outside but all I can see is Holland.
The woman I fell hard and fast for. The one I don’t want to live without.
I override all my doubts and what-ifs and pick up my phone to call her. She answers on the first ring.
“I want to you see,” I say.
“I thought I made it clear we’re done. The job is over. I don’t ever want to see you again.” She hangs up.
I stare at the silent phone in my hand. The fake heartbreak I staged for my grandmother just became the sharpest pain I’ve ever felt.
Do I give up? Fuck no. I’m a Montclair and she’s the woman I love.
I drive myself to her apartment and dash through the pouring rain up the steps. A streetlight buzzes, winking on and off before giving up and plunging the street into darkness.
Water runs down my face from my soaked hair and clothes to leave small puddles on the floor in the foyer. I scan the mail slots on the wall until I find the one with her last name.
Then I take the stairs two at time until I stand in front of her door hesitating to knock. Me, the self-assured CEO who gets things done, is worried about this, the most important meeting of my life.
I wipe my hands down the sides of my wet trousers and tap on the door. I know she’s home, I saw a light under the door and heard movement.
The door swings open. Holland is wearing a pair of shorts and a long, oversized T-shirt. Her eyes are wide, her expression fearful.
“I hate it when it rains and gets dark out,” she says, her lips trembling.
I recognize fear when I see it. “I’m here,” I say.
“Yes. But why?”
“I love you.”
“Wh-what?”
I pull her against me, wrapping my arms around her body. “I don’t care how we started. I don’t care about the contract. I want something real with you.”
“You’re not supposed to love me,” she says.
“Too late for that.” I tip her chin up. “Have you been crying? Over me?” I hate the thought of her crying but if she was about me, that gives me hope. She wouldn’t cry if she didn’t care.
“Theo…” She pulls me into her apartment when one of her neighbors steps into the hallway and glances at us.
Her apartment is a mixture of older, eclectic décor and furnishings, but it’s warm. Like she is.
“You’re not supposed to love me because you’ll get hurt.”
I frame her face with my hands. “The only way I’ll get hurt is if you send me away. But if you do, I’ll be back every day until you realize I’m the man for you.”
She grabs a towel from a basket of laundry waiting to be folded and hands it to me. I dry my hair and run my fingers through it to smooth it back.
“I’m serious, Theo. You’re not supposed to love me.”
“I’m serious, too. I love you and nothing is going to change that.”
She plops down on a broken sofa. “I can’t be with you. My father is looking for an opportunity to screw you over. He’ll want money from you, and if you don’t give it to him, he’ll threaten you with something else.”
I kneel in front of her. “After my father? I think I can handle yours.”
“He’s very sneaky. He got a picture of the contract and planned to use it against you, but I was able to thwart him. I might not be able to next time he comes up with a scheme.”
“I don’t care what he tries. He can’t touch me.”
“You don’t know what he’s like.”
I still. “What do you mean?”
Holland stares at her hand and rubs the faint scar in her palm. “I used to dream about being an artist. I seemed to have a talent for drawing and painting.” She bites her lip.
I take her hand in mine and stroke my thumb across the scar.
“I lost track of time and was walking home in the dark when it started raining. I took a shortcut and encountered my brother’s skeezy friends. They thought it would be fun to take pictures of me naked. They didn’t succeed though they did manage to rip my shirt off.”
I hate those bastards.
“I fought for what felt like hours.”
She wipes her eyes.
“I’m thankful Heidi realized I was late and came looking for me. I was in an alley between two vacant businesses.”
I get up to sit beside Holland and wrap my arm around her shoulders.
“If not for her…” Holland swallows. “She turned into a banshee, screaming and clawing and kicking raising so much hell she’d scared a couple of them off. The third one she kicked so hard in the crotch he passed out from the pain.”
“Do they still live in the area?”
“About an hour away now I think.”
I’m going to find them and I’m going to ruin them.
“My father didn’t believe me. And when I filed a report, my brother Eric sided with his friends and told the police he thought I was lying.”
She holds up the hand with the scar. “My hand was damaged that night and I haven’t drawn anything since. My father went to their parents threatening a lawsuit and they paid him off.”
She laughs. “He capitalized on my pain when he didn’t even believe me.”
I’m going to teach him a lesson, too.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart.” I hug her tightly. After what he did to her, he’s forever my enemy.
She leans her head against my chest. “He’s the reason I legally changed my last name from Jackson to my mother’s maiden name of Flanagan.”
The name clicks in my mind. I knew there was something off about that guy. “Is your father Bob Atterton Jackson?”
“You know him?”
Do I tell her that he wormed his way into a job at the company? That he stole and was likely there to cause more trouble? It would only add to the hurt she carries.
I shake my head and go with a half-truth. “I met him once outside a restaurant.”
“Oh.”
I smooth my hand down the back of her hair. “What can I do to help you?”
“Just keep holding me.”
“I’m good at that,” I say as I press my lips to the top of her head. “And I’ll be good at loving you.”
“I warned you not to fall for me.”
“But I did.”
“And I ended up falling for you.”
“Say it,” I tell her. “I want to hear it.”
“I love you, Theo Montclair.”
Love. It’s the greatest word in the world.