Chapter 48
Nathan
"So, you agreed to get married." I top off the whiskey in Quentin’s tumbler and pour sparkling water for myself. We’re seated on chairs, which have been set to one side of the room, with our drinks on the coffee table between us.
The condition Arthur imposed on him… To marry within the next six months, and to a woman the old man approves of. What a shocker, eh?
When Quentin didn’t protest, Arthur seemed to relax. I thanked him for confirming me as group CEO, but he waved it off. He told me I deserved it, that I should make sure to collaborate closely with Quentin, then he took his leave.
None of my half-brothers protested seeing him leave early. If anything, the tension in the room reduced with his departure. Edward saw him out before leaving with Mira.
Starling wanted to check in on her bakery to make sure her employee had closed up properly, and Edward and Mira offered to drop her off.
I didn’t want her to leave, but it’s important she focuses on building up her business, especially with the funding flowing in and a new team to onboard.
So, I kissed her hard and told her I’d pick her up in a few hours.
Which left Quentin and me, and the rest of my half-brother clan. Knox broke out the liquor, and everyone accepted a glass like it was the answer to all of their problems. Which I know from experience, it isn’t.
I pour some of the sparkling water into a glass and take a sip.
"You don’t drink?" Quentin asks.
I look at him in surprise. Only my wife noticed I abstain from alcohol. None of the other Davenports have noticed, or if they have, they haven’t mentioned it to me. But nothing escapes Quentin’s gaze.
"You sure you don’t want to vie for the role of Group CEO?" I joke.
"Not a chance." He swirls the amber liquid in his glass. "That’s not what I returned for."
"No, you came back to make peace with your nephews." I gesture toward the other end of the room, where Knox, Connor, Tyler and Brody are gathered around the bar and talking in low voices. You know what I said earlier about Knox being a loner? Strike that; it took a threat to one of the brothers for them to close ranks. Which is a positive thing. It’s going to stand the Davenports in good stead when I break down their companies and sell them off, except the info-communication division, since Quentin’s leading that now.
"I suppose I should make a start by going over and talking to them." He shoots a sideways glance toward his nephews. "But then I think, I’m not a masochist, and there’s going to be enough time to take them on in the future. Besides, to begin, I’d rather face them one at a time."
"Good strategy." I drain my glass of water and pour myself more.
He clinks his glass with mine, before taking a sip. "Why did you get out?" he asks me.
"It’s the same ol’ story.” I rotate my neck. “Mission gone wrong. We were ambushed. I made it out alive.”
He swallows another mouthful before he asks, "Was that a good thing?"
I bark out a laugh, the sound nowhere as joyful as it’s supposed to be. He knows, sometimes making it out of a war is to be cursed spending the rest of your life fighting the demons that never leave you. "For me; not so much for the others."
He waits. The silence stretches, inviting me to fill it with my confessions. Edward’s the former priest, the man to whom I’ve been tempted to confess in the past. It’s the first time someone else has invited the same confidence from me.
"Two of my team were killed in front of my eyes."
He whistles. "Tough on you."
"Tougher on their families."
He searches my features, a shrewd look in his eyes. "You understand, they knew what they were signing up for?"
"They expected to fight. They gave up their youth, their laughter, their hopes and dreams for the country. In return, they expect the country to help them when they and their families need it."
"You think the system failed them?"
"Ask their families, who were handed a flag and compensation that’s barely enough to take care of their living costs. Then, there are those who succeed at their given mission but, like me, suffer from PTSD. So many are given an honorable discharge, and then what?"
He tips up his chin. "There are career transition programs, housing assistance, grants, and benefits in place to help vets adapt back to daily life.’
"Bullshit." I slap my palm on the table. "What’s on paper and what happens in real life are two very different realities."
"Nevertheless, there is help for them, provided they’re willing to be helped."
"You mean, they come back irreparably broken, unable to help themselves, and the inevitable happens. A higher percentage of veterans take their lives than any other demographic."
"Not you," he murmurs.
"Not you, either," I point out.
"I had a reason to live. A family— As dysfunctional as the Davenports are, I had blood to come back to."
"So did many of these men. But it didn’t seem to help."
"No, it depends on the person. If they can find the resources within themselves to crawl out of the hole."
"The hole we put them in." I stare into my empty glass.
"If by we, you mean—"
"The country. The system. Call it what you want, but this endless cycle of serving up our youth as fodder to serve the bidding of politicians is something I have always questioned."
"Yet, you joined the military."
"I was young and foolish. I thought I could change the system from inside." I rub the back of my neck. "Why are we talking about this, anyway?"
"Because you feel for the lives that were lost. And you want to do something about it."
"Perhaps." I roll my shoulders, glance around the room, then back at him. "You, on the other hand—"
"—still believe in the power of the armed forces, yes. If that last mission hadn’t gone wrong in the way it did, if that one particular life hadn’t been lost, I’d never have left."
"Who was she?" I tilt my head. "I assume it’s someone Ryot had feelings for? Did the two of you serve together?"
"We served at the same time, yes. As for the rest, it’s his prerogative to talk about it; not mine."
"Understood." Both of us lapse into silence for a few minutes. He tosses back the rest of his whiskey, then tugs at his sleeves. "I’ll see you around." He rises to his feet.
The movement catches the attention of the rest of the men. Knox pushes away from the bar and walks over to stand in his path.
"Where do you think you’re going, old man?" he growls.
Brody and Tyler join him, flanking him on either side. Connor watches with a frown on his face. Clearly, he’s not happy with his brothers’ actions. He’s not stopping them, though.
"I don’t want any fighting." Quentin holds up his hands. "Also, not sure our eighteen-year age difference warrants your referring to me as old, but if it makes you feel better..." He shrugs.
A vein throbs at Knox’s temple. The tips of his ears grow white. Never a good sign.
I rise to my feet. "Guys, this is something Ryot and Quentin need to sort out between themselves. I understand it’s a good thing you’re all doing by backing up Ryot, but not sure if fisticuffs are the way to solve this."
"Whose side are you on?" Tyler growls.
"I’m on no one’s side."
"That’s because you got the Group CEO role," Knox growls.
"Is that what you want? The role? Say the word, and I’ll be happy to hand it over to you."
I sense the others staring at me in surprise. Knox frowns. He seems to consider my suggestion, then shakes his head. "Nah, it doesn’t work that way. The old man promised it to me, and he broke his promise. You deciding you don’t want the role and handing it over doesn’t cut it."
"Ah"—I stroke my chin—"it’s Arthur’s approval you seek?"
He grunts. "You a pop psychologist?"
"Nope, just seen enough of the world. No matter how much we grow up, or"—I shoot a glance at Quentin—"or how far we run, we’re always looking for our parents to accept us."
"Is that what you want from Arthur? Is that why you returned to the family fold?" Quentin murmurs.
"In some ways, I suppose I was. My mother didn’t let a day go by without talking about my father. Arthur’s wife may have paid her off, but she always saw herself as a Davenport. Maybe that’s why, when Arthur called, I came." And also because it gave me the opportunity to take revenge.
Silence follows my announcement. Guess the men weren’t expecting me to be this honest?
Hell, I wasn’t expecting to be this honest. Apparently, along with falling in love, I’ve also forgotten how to keep my secrets.
Or perhaps, my subconscious has decided it’s time to be vulnerable?
Share a little of myself with my half-brothers.
Make them feel more comfortable around me, so when I break up the company and sell it off, it’s going to hurt so much more.
Nothing like one of your own betraying you to wreak the worst devastation.
And that’s what I want, after all. I want them to suffer the way my mother did.
I want them to feel the anger, the pain, the rage, the helplessness I felt every single day of my growing years.
All because my father and his family thought she wasn’t good enough for them.
I’ll never allow that to happen to my wife.
Which is why it’s important Arthur acknowledges her as a Davenport, and ensures she gets all the advantages that go with it.
She’ll never face the loneliness and the isolation my mother did.
She’ll never feel she’s been abandoned. Of course, it’s not just the money that matters, but the fact that my mother did not have to worry about that, is the only reason I’m still alive.
Yes, my grandmother took care of us in that way, but the lack of emotional acceptance is what ate away at my mother.
My wife will never face that. She was chosen by my grandfather, after all. I used to think it was a coincidence that it turned out I already knew her… But was it?
I’m convinced Arthur had it all planned out.
He knew that we knew each other, that her brother Ben was my best friend, and that I never forgot her.
I bet he found out that I was keeping an eye on her bakery.
But he must have noticed that I didn’t approach her.
He must have thought I needed a nudge—anything to get me to come face to face with her, so as to trigger a reaction in me—which he was right about.
I saw her that day in her bakery and knew I could no longer stay away from her.
I’m more convinced than ever that he planned everything so we’d meet, knowing a possible outcome was that I’d marry her.
All Arthur cares is that everyone of marriageable age is settled before he pops it.
The worst thing? In this particular case, I can’t fault him. Gramps has his merits, after all. Just not enough for me to spare his life’s work.
And it’s not like any of them are going to end up the streets after this.
The Davenports have enough money stashed away in accounts and real-estate around the world to lead a very good life.
Enough to inject capital into the formation of a new company, if they choose.
Enough to buy back the shares of the existing companies, if they choose.
All I’m doing is providing them a reality check.
Enough to not take their money for granted anymore.
Hell, they should be grateful I’m giving them a life lesson.
And what does it say about you? I squeeze the bridge of my nose.
Falling for my wife is making me vulnerable in all areas of my life.
It’s fucking confusing, feeling this way.
It was a lot easier when my goal was clear.
Take revenge for how they treated my mother.
That’s what’s guided me to this point. And now…
? Now, all I know is she’s the most important thing in my life.
Spending time with her is what matters most. Taking care of her, protecting her…
Coming clean to her? That, too. I can’t keep putting that off.
I look around and notice that all eyes in the room are on me.
"What?" I scowl at the men.
"Something on your mind, bro?" Knox prowls over to stand over me. "You look disturbed."
"You’d be, too, if you were pussy whipped," Brody snickers.
I lean back in my seat. "Sounds like you’re jealous."
"Sounds like you can’t stand an hour’s absence from her, " he scoffs.
"Never denied that." I hold up my hands. "I’ll be the first to admit, I’m in love with my wife. I’d rather spend an evening with her than any more time with you jokers."
I rise to my feet. "I wish I could say I don’t envy you—"
"But you do."
He chuckles. "In this respect, I’m wiser than my nephews. I saw the way you two looked at each other. What you have… It’s not an easy thing to come by."
I take in the shadows in his eyes and realize this man has as many secrets as me, perhaps more. But that’s none of my concern. He’s come this far; he’s survived running strategy for dangerous missions. Question is, will he survive the Davenports? Only one way to find out.
"Right, I’m out. Give you uncle and nephews a chance to get to know each other."