Chapter 53
Nathan
The bartender pours out a glass of sparkling water and slides it over to him. He looks at it with distaste. "On second thought, get me a Macallan." He pushes the glass of fizzy water in my direction. "I forgot you don’t drink. Here, knock yourself out."
"I already did." I push aside my empty glass, pick up the one he passed me, and take a sip.
"Do I detect a note of self-pity?"
"And more." I stare into my glass of water. If there were an occasion I could do with a drink, it’s now. But there’s no way I’m going down that path again. Instead, I take another sip of the water. “She hates me. I made sure she hates me. I’m a self-sabotaging prick and I brought this upon myself."
He whistles, then snatches up the tumbler of whiskey the bartender placed in front of him. He tosses it back, then slaps it back on the wood. "Needed that. Can’t listen to confessions without alcohol in my veins." He turns to me. "Now, tell Uncle Quentin everything."
I snort. "You’re what, eleven years older than me?"
"Doesn’t change the fact I’m your uncle."
"What-fucking-ever." I throw back the rest of the water, then signal to the guy behind the bar to top me up.
"Don’t overdo it, eh?" He smirks.
I half laugh, then… What the hell? It’s not like I have anyone else to talk to.
Ben’s gone. And regardless of what my wife says, regardless of the Marines absolving me of all wrongdoing; yes, there was an enquiry into my actions, before they decided to reward me with a medal.
Another reason I lost faith in them. How could you deem my actions wrong one day, then, just because a panel of people find you did nothing wrong, decide to praise you for the same?
It makes no sense. But then, little in the world does—except her.
And I couldn’t look her in the eye after she regained consciousness.
I watched her from afar, and convinced myself she was better off without me.
I couldn’t forget the shock and anger in her eyes when she saw me and then, the devastation when she realized what I was about to say.
She wasn’t able to hear it from me. She didn’t want it to be her reality.
It’s why she ran out of the apartment. And I wasn’t able to stop her. I wasn’t able to get to her in time.
Once again, I’d failed her. And this, despite promising Ben I’d look after her. Then, I took advantage of her situation and coerced her into marrying me. Nothing makes what I did right. I can’t justify it. I’m in the wrong, period. I need to pay for it.
"Hey, where did you go to?" I look up to find Quentin’s worried glance on me. "You okay, mate? You don’t look so hot."
"I’m afraid I’ve committed a mistake I’ll never recover from."
"Did you try apologizing to her?"
I nod.
"And?"
"It’s not enough. What I did to her, no apology can put right."
He rubs his chin. "So what will put it right?"
"I… I’m not sure." For the first time in my life, I’m completely and utterly at a loss.
How could I have come to this? The man who’s survived on his own since he was eighteen, who made it through some of the highest profile missions the Marines ran, the man who took out enemy soldiers in hand-to-hand combat, laid low by a curvaceous siren who occupies his every thought.
A new voice growls from behind me, "I’ll tell you what I’m sure of, you’re a mother-fucking traitor.
" I hear the whistle of the breeze, and I could duck, but I don’t.
Instead, I let Knox’s fist connect with my chin.
The force of the blow knocks me off the bar stool.
I hit the floor, the back of my head smashing into the hard tiles.
Searing pain splits my skull. I see sparks behind my eyes.
When it clears, Knox’s angry face looms over mine.
"You bastard. How long have you been planning this? " He grabs my collar.
I let him haul me to my feet. When he pulls back his fist, I go lax in his grasp. I need this. I deserve this. I should be beaten up for everything I did to her.
He lets his fist fly, but Quentin blocks it. A sharp cut to Knox’s other arm has him loosening his hold on me. Quentin shoves him away. "Hold on, now."
"Don’t fucking interrupt, old man. This is between me and my fucking half-brother." Knox says half-brother in a derisive voice, which I must admit, is a fine touch. What’s more, I deserve it.
"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Quentin growls.
"The fuck is wrong with you?" Knox turns on him. "This fucker tried to sell us out, and you’re protecting him?"
Quentin frowns. "Sell us out?"
"He made a deal with our competitors, the bloody Whittingtons.”
Quentin scoffs, then he sees the look on my face, and all mirth disappears from his features. "The fuck have you done, Nathan?"
"Nothing the lot of you don’t deserve. Present company excluded." I move my jaw this way, then that. "Doesn’t seem like anything’s broken." I smirk at Knox. "Couldn’t do one thing right, hmm?"
Knox’s nostrils flare. Rage lights up his eyes. With a snarl, he charges, but once more, Quentin slaps his arm against Knox’s chest. "Cut it out."
"I am going to kill you." Anger leaps off of Knox, a thick wall of hate, which I welcome.
"Join the queue." I bare my teeth at him.
Quentin looks around. "You lot may not care about the reputation of the Davenports—"
"Like you do?" Knox snorts.
"Only to the extent it hurts my inheritance."
"Thought you didn’t care about that?" I narrow my gaze on him.
"Things change. Turns out, I’m more of a family man than I’d like to admit, what with my son getting married—"
"You have a son?" I blink.
"Of marriageable age? You’re old," Knox growls.
"Had him at twenty-six, not that it’s any of your business.
But"—he looks between the two of us—"what happens to the Davenport Group is important to me, now that I run one of the companies.
" He glances around at the interested eyes watching us.
"I think we’ve attracted enough attention.
Shall we take this behind closed doors?"