Epilogue 2
Nathan
“This Sunday lunch is a tradition?” Quentin looks around the packed table with a mixture of trepidation and awe and a touch of disdain. It’s the first one he’s attending since he joined the Davenport Group.
“It’s something Arthur insists on.” I wrap my arm about my wife and pull her closer.
In all honesty, the last place I want to be is here in Arthur’s house, giving up an afternoon where I could be making love to my wife, in my bed, in our house, and with the prospect of a lazy weekend again.
But since I’m sitting next to her, and able to hold her through the next few hours, I’m not complaining.
“The old man thinks this is the best way to foster a sense of family between us.” Knox snorts from his other side, “Little does he know; some differences can’t be solved by breaking bread together.
” He’s referring to the fact that Ryot is nowhere to be seen since he walked out that day after his run-in with Quentin.
On the other hand, Knox and Quentin are sitting shoulder-to-shoulder at the table, sharing a meal, which goes to show Arthur’s idea might have some merit.
Of course, it also has something to do with the fact that Knox accepted my offer of becoming the Deputy CEO.
It puts him on a level playing ground with Quentin.
Besides, it’s a short jump to being the CEO, which Knox is keenly aware of.
Given how eager he is to take on more responsibilities, it serves me well.
I plan to keep reasonable hours and be home for dinner every night so I can see my wife’s gorgeous face and support her in every way possible as she builds her business.
Which means, Knox can cover for me in instances when I won’t be around…
Which is going to happen more frequently.
Doesn’t mean I’m going to shirk my responsibilities, but I’m going to lead a more balanced life. A child’s cry splits the air.
Summer begins to rise to her feet to attend to the baby in the pram placed at one side of the table, but Sinclair stops her. He urges her to keep eating, then moves over to take the baby in his arms.
“Why is it such a turn on to see a man in a suit, who runs a billion-dollar business, take his child in his arms to soothe the baby?”
“Hold on, you better not be implying that you’re turned on by someone other than me.”
She nods, then turns to me. “I mean, I’m not turned on by him, but by the picture he makes.” She blushes. “I only have eyes for you, baby.”
I look into her eyes, losing myself all over again in those pools of green. Then, because I can’t stop myself, I bend and press my lips to hers. She moans, and I deepen the kiss. I pull her closer, slide my arm down to her ample butt and—someone clears their throat.
My wife stiffens, then giggles. “I think we’re embarrassing everyone.”
“I’m kissing my wife; what’s there to be embarrassed about?”
She slaps at my chest. “Everyone is watching us,” she hisses.
“Let them.” I try to keep kissing her, but she pushes at me.
“Please, Nate.”
I sigh, then press my forehead into hers before whispering, “I have a raging hard-on. Maybe you could—"
“—nope.”
“Under the cover of the tablecloth.”
“No way,” she gasps.
“No one will know.”
“Everyone will know.” She shoves at me again, and I release her.
I look up to find—sure enough—every gaze at the table is on us. Edward and Mira beam at us, Summer laughs, and Sinclair gives me a thumbs-up sign from where he’s rocking his kid.
Every gaze, that is, except the rest of the Davenports.
Connor looks bemused, Brody is frowning, and Tyler looks bored.
When does Tyler not look bored? The exception is Arthur, who looks pleased.
To his credit, he doesn’t have an I-told-you-so expression on his face.
Not that I’d care, even if he did. It doesn’t matter that I was pushed to see my wife before either of us were ready.
The fact is, I did, and she’s mine and I’m hers. End of story.
“Argh”—Knox makes a gagging sound—“get a room, guys.”
Quentin rubs his chin. “For once, I second him.”
Knox looks at him in surprise.
Quentin notices it and raises his glass. “We might yet find common ground, nephew.”
Arthur raps his knife against his water glass, and silence envelopes the room.
Even the baby respects Arthur. “I am so happy to have my family in my house today. When I started on this mission of seeing my son and grandsons settled down, I hoped to see them happy. And seeing Edward and Mira, and now, Nate and his beautiful wife Skylar here today, my heart is full.” He looks around the faces at the table.
“While change is constant, the only other constant is the love of this family. As long as we have each other’s love and support, we can weather anything.
” He raises his glass. “I’m excited to see what traditions we cook up together in this next chapter as a family. I—"
Before he can finish, Otis walks over and whispers something in his ear.
Arthur nods, then lowers his glass. “—we have someone new to the family who will be joining us.”
“Another long-lost uncle?” Knox scoffs.
“Or another half-brother, maybe?” I smirk.
A man walks toward the only empty chair in the room, which is next to Arthur. I’d assumed it was because no one wanted to sit next to him, but apparently, this was planned. He’s tall, dark-haired, and dressed in a dark suit with a blood red tie which stands out against his crisp white shirt.
On my other side, Knox draws in a sharp breath. “Motherfucker,” he hisses.
Arthur shoots him a sharp look. “Language.”
“Really, that’s all you have to say for inviting a Whittington to the table?” Knox growls.
Toren Whittington looks around the table, then nods in my direction. “Davenport.”
“Whittington.” I nod back.
“Since our companies are now partners, I thought it would be good to invite Tor here, to join us for our weekly lunch meetings.”
“And is he going to weigh in on the future of the Davenport Group?” Knox tilts his head at Arthur.
My grandfather seems to be taken aback by the question. “We are partners, so Tor will attend the board meetings. But Davenports hold the majority stake, so I count on you, Quentin, and Nathan to exercise your veto power as you see fit.”
“Can I start with saying I won’t dine at the same table as a Whittington?”
Arthur purses his lips. “Tor’s our guest.”
“And I’m your grandson.” Knox juts out his chin.
“Let the boy be.” Tor bares his teeth in what should be a smile, but instead, makes him look like a predator scenting his prey.
I frown. For the first time, I realize it might not have been entirely wise to bring the Whittingtons onto the board of our company.
Toren is not one to be underestimated. I sensed that when I met him, but I was too focused on finding a way to stave off the Madisons and get my revenge on Arthur.
What better way to make the old man pay than by forcing him to work with his mortal enemies?
Although, Arthur may have beaten me at my own game. He seems to be making the most of having to work with the Whittingtons. The old man’s a survivor, all right. And more astute than I gave him credit for.
“You thinking what I am?” Quentin says in an aside to me.
“That there’s a reason he’s trying to present himself as all cordial with the Whittingtons?”
Quentin nods slowly. “Arthur is up to something. I’m just not seeing it yet.”
“Me neither.”
“Perhaps, it’s not to do with business, but something else?” My wife offers.
Quentin and I exchange glances, then he nods. “That’s possible.”
I kiss the top of my wife’s head. “That’s brilliant, baby, why didn’t I think of that?”
“Boy, did you call me boy?” Knox rises to his feet.
“You’re younger than me, both in age and in business experience, boy.” Toren’s smile widens.
Knox throws down his napkin, pushes back his chair, and begins to round the table, but Quentin jumps up and grabs his arm. “Wanna take a walk with me?”
Knox begins to shake off his arm, but Quentin holds firm.
“My son’s getting married; come with me to the wedding.”
Knox snorts, “Why would I do that?”
“Because"—Quentin seems to measure his words—“he didn’t invite me, and I’m crashing his wedding.”
Quentin
“I don’t want you at my wedding.” My son looks me up and down.
He’s dressed in a tux and bowtie, and the fuzz on his chin forms dirt-colored patches.
He’s twenty-three years old. Sure, he’s an adult, but he’s not yet able to grow a proper beard.
Not to mention, the only job he’s found so far is that of a pizza delivery boy.
Barely enough to support himself, let alone, a wife.
And he decides to get married. I shake my head.
“This is a bad idea,” I growl.
Felix firms his lips. He sets his jaw, and his face takes on a mutinous expression I’m all too familiar with.
Jesus Christ, did I have to go and lead with a ‘no’?
I might not have been a good parent to him…
and this shows why. I’ve been able to strategize on military missions and lead my men with tact and diplomacy, but when it comes to my son, all finesse deserts me.
I’ve never managed to handle our discussions with delicacy.
I know, if I tell him no, he’ll want to do that very thing, and yet, any reading I’ve done on reverse psychology deserts me when I need it the most. You’d think facing down the enemy and escaping from my last mission would be the most difficult thing I’ve done.
Well, think again. This parenting gig is the one exam I’ve never passed.
“And who are you to tell me that?” Felix snaps.
“I’m your father.” It’s out before I can stop myself. How trite I sound. How hackneyed. How banal. I may be his sperm donor, but really, have I done anything to merit the title, father?
Felix feels the same, for his eyes narrow. “Father,” he sneers. Cheeks flushed, he takes a step forward then stabs his finger into my chest. “You gave up the right to call yourself my father, considering you were barely around for me when I needed you.”