No Simple Sacrifice (Secrets of Stone Book 5) (23 page)

It was definitely
my
turn to be grilled.

I took a gulp of the spiked java, weighing out the need for the booze over the heat from the liquid—
not
helpful when it came to remembering the embarrassment of getting chewed out by the girlfriend’s father. It’d sucked at 15 years old; it still sucked now.

But dammit if the man hadn’t stated his case with searing conviction.

And a hell of a lot of points that made sense.

Gut-wrenching sense.

After hearing him out, and acknowledging his eloquent take on his precious daughter’s life, I’d had a lot to think about. A lot of concerns I couldn’t and wouldn’t dismiss.

A lot.

So, after we’d gotten back here, I’d retreated to my old place in Mount Greenwood. It had been sitting empty as I made a few renovations and decided to wait out the market a bit, and now proved a valuable fallback as I sorted shit out in my head…and my heart. Though I’d made appearances at the downtown apartment so as to not get Fletch riled, I’d started to default back to the old place, despite its abject emptiness. Maybe because of it. Empty walls and a cold bed made it easier to claw back to my old self. To remember life without all the necessities—like the woman I loved and the man I considered my brother.

I chugged more “coffee”. Glared harder at the clouds rolling in, as if summoned by the sheer force of my morose spirit.

As Peter Perizkova’s heavily accented voice once more attacked my mind.

“My daughter deserves a good life, Mr. Newland. An easy life. She’s a smart woman; kind and generous. She has a heart bigger than most.”

“I agree with you completely, Mr. Perizkova. I’ve never met anyone like her—and I intend on making her the happiest woman on the planet.”

“You and that friend of yours? Or is that just a game you like to play?”

“Fletcher Ford is my closest friend, yes. He’s the finest man I know. Loyal and honorable.”

“Honorable?
Bah.
You take me for a
balvan
, boy? An idiot who knows no better, who does not see? Two men. My Talia. Oh, I see your game just fine.”

“This is anything but a game for us. Fletcher loves her as much as I do.”

“And how does your ‘love’ work, exactly? In the
real
world, Mr. Newland, when you are out in public with my Talia? People will stare at my daughter. They will call her names behind her back. Bad names. Our family has honor, Newland. A reputation we have earned—and we protect.”

“Those are problems we’re equipped to handle. People will get used to it in time.”

“In time?
That
is what you think?”

“I know it’s unconventional—”

“Not good enough! Not for my daughter. She is a treasure!”

“Fletcher and I treasure her above
everything.
We would give our lives—”

“But you are robbing her of hers. She is a fine woman. She deserves to hold her head high, with honor. With love and respect.”

“We both respect her, Mr. Perizkova. And honor her. We want to make every one of her dreams come true. We
see
those dreams.
Listen
to them. Certainly more than you or your wife, as far as I can tell.”

He’d surged by a step. I’d braced for his punch. In the end, he’d only turned dark red, narrowing his furious glare. I’d let him have every fuming moment. He had every right to it. I’d dealt a low blow, but there’d be no apology for it—or for the solid case of pissed off behind it. He could voice his “concerns”—justifiable ones—as much as he wanted. But no way in hell could he accuse me and Fletcher of not loving Talia. I wasn’t even sure I’d stopped my heart at love. What had consumed me because of that woman, from the moment I’d first experienced her passion, felt far beyond anything I’d known of love…pushing into words that, to me, always belonged on the same list as Nirvana and Atlantis. Terms like
destiny
and
meant to be
and even
preordained
…

“Nobody gets it right all the time with their children, Mr. Newland—but we have loved Talia for twenty-six years. Laughed with her, cried with her, tended her, sacrificed for her. Talk your big talk about loving her in the same way, but when you finish, take some time to think about what you will put her through because of that ‘love’. Think about her feelings and her reputation before insisting on knowing what’s best for her.”

I hadn’t said a damn thing in return. There’d been nothing to say. No argument to make.

Not when the bastard was so goddamned right.

So I’d stood in the doorway, gut churning and soul breaking, while watching the man climb into his sensible little car.

Sensible.

A word that had never entered our arguments with Talia.

That had barely entered our psyches.

Instead Fletch and I had been too busy…redecorating. And altering our schedules, trying to find more open spaces for trips to California. Talking about getting a bigger place, perhaps with an extra office for Tolly…

Uprooting our lives—but never stopping to consider the upheaval to hers. The real price
she’d
have to pay for being with us.

But once I did consider it, I’d known only one thing.

Peter Perizkova, in all his pomposity and righteousness, had a point.

Meaning somebody had to make the sacrifice. Become the asshole.

I slugged the rest of the drink, not stopping until my cup was drained. My senses finally cooperated, dulling to a tolerable level—or maybe that was just the commiseration I felt from the sky, pouring out more freezing crap…resembling the exact same muck that roiled in my heart.

*

An hour later,
I finally found a date for the gala.

Six hours after that, I flogged myself for making the call. If there was a sure fire way to guarantee Talia moved on from me because of sheer disdain, this would be it.

The punishment began from about the first second she slid into the limo Killian had sent. Octopus arms and snake-slithery hips. Porn star gasps, bursting from red lipstick painted on with a broom.

You told yourself not to do this.

Assured yourself that going stag was better than this.

You should have listened, you know.

I sucker-punched the prig of an angel on my shoulder while prying two gangly hands off my neck. “Hello, Janelle.”

“Mmmm.” She pushed in to kiss me. I ducked just in time. “I am
so
happy to see you, Mr. Newland. You still like to be called that, I’m guessing?”

She drew out a long wink, leaving behind black flakes of mascara from her false eyelashes. My gut soured.

“Just call me Drake. That will be fine.”

“Mmmm.” It was one her favorites. As the reminder stabbed in, bringing more bile with it, I contemplated turning it into a drinking game. “I’m fine with that as well.” As we pulled away from her building, she circled a curious stare toward the other seats. “So…where’s your buddy? Fletcher, right?”

“He won’t be joining us.”

Her face fell like a sink hole after a rainstorm. A second later, her coy smile was back in place. “Well, that’s fine, I suppose. I’m sure you and I can cook up some mischief on our own…hmmm?”

Sign from the universe
.
Let the drinking game commence.

“Care for something?” I tossed back a shot of Jameson, savoring the shock of the burn. I didn’t want Janelle getting any ideas, even by accident. I
was
human, and hadn’t even jerked off for the last five days. Martyrs were moronic like that.

“No, thanks. I’d like to keep my head clear…for other things.” She stroked my tuxedoed arm with red dagger nails. Scraped those lethal weapons up to my jaw, where she traced them around my ear. A smile slipped across her glossy lips, just before she sent a knowing glance downward.

My johnson didn’t twitch by a millimeter. Doubted it would’ve even without the Jameson.

I laughed—more from curiosity than anything. Had I actually thought this woman was hot…
ever
?

Her forehead crinkled. Well, attempted to. Botox had a way of fucking with things like natural facial expression. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing.” I meant it. “It’s…nothing.”

“So…what is this big to-do all about? And where are we going? I wore a gown like you asked. Do you like it?”

“It’s…bright.” I inflected it like a compliment, and that was how she took it. In truth, I wagered that if the car broke down and we needed something to flag down a service truck, she’d be the easy choice. Some commissioned sales woman had probably told her the yellow slinky thing was “bold and sexy”. I supposed it was—if we were going to a Sesame Street cast party.

“We’re headed for The Waldorf.” A subject change was in order. “It’s an event for one of the businesses I work with. I also serve on their board.”

“Which company?”

“Stone Global Corp.”

“Oh!” Her kohl-lined eyes flashed wide. “They’re
big.
”

“Yes, they are.”

“And you’re on their board of directors?”

“Yes” Fuck, I missed Tolly. “SGC holds this dinner twice a year for their key shareholders and prospective investors. I’m speaking tonight, and my date—well, her plans changed—”

“But not showing up isn’t an option for you.” Intelligent she wasn’t, but the street smarts were all there. I appreciated that at least, and yanked on her hand to prove it.

“You were awesome about the last-minute notice. Thank you.”

She smiled with dopey pleasure. “No worries, Mr.—errrr, my big Drakie. No worries at
all.
After all the fun we had the last time?” Her fingers went walking again. This time, down instead of up. “You can bet I’ll pick up the phone
any
time you call.”

I stopped her hand, clutching firmly. “And I’m thankful—enough to be up front with you. Tonight is about business for me, not ‘fun’—and certainly not sex with you.” When she slanted her head, peering in disbelief, I returned her hand to her lap. “It’s the truth, and if you can’t respect the boundary, that’s okay. We’ll handle the issue by turning around right now, and I’ll take you home. I really
did
need a date for tonight, and—”

“Figured I was a sure thing?”

“No offense.” I pushed out a decisive breath. “Janelle…you’re a lovely woman…”

And I’m a complete ass.

“Well, thank you.” She cleared the hair off her neck with genteel scrapes of the dragon nails. “No offense taken. And why don’t we just…play things by ear? You may just change your mind later. And for the record, when it comes to you and Fletcher? I’m definitely a sure thing.”

Again with her ridiculous wink. Between that move and “Drakie”, I’d be lucky to get through the night without vomiting.

All over the woman who really has nothing to do with you being an ass
?

As we waited for the car to inch forward in the drop-off line, I forced myself to confront the real source of my strain.

Talia and Fletcher were somewhere in that glittering crowd ahead.

I’d hoped—perhaps prayed—that they’d just sit this one out, but I knew Fletch better than that. I’d bet my eye teeth he had a whole strategy mounted about leveraging the event to corner me in private, Talia at his side, and assault me with their thousand arguments about why we belonged together. Half of me—fuck it, more than half—already agreed with them, but no way could I ignore the conviction in her father’s eyes, preying on the fears that already lurked in my gut.

This was in her best interest. I knew that.
Knew that
. And no matter what, that part would reign supreme.

When the car arrived, I made no effort to take over for the attendant after Janelle climbed out. I simply started toward the door, leaving her trailing behind.

Alert, alert. You have teleported out of the asshole mother ship, and are now on Planet Prick. Proceed at your own risk, motherfucker.

My own risk, indeed.

I shouldn’t have been shocked that Janelle was a goddamn track star in her stilettos. She was back in range before I hit the first bank of photographers, snaking her arm smoothly beneath mine, making it painfully clear we were there together. My teeth grinded, despite observing the faces behind the camera lenses. The gossip columns had sent their A crews tonight, meaning there’d be at least a little respect for those of us on this side of the velvet ropes. Thank fuck.

“Mr. Newland,” a voice called out. “A picture?”

“Not tonight, gentlemen. Sorry; I need to get inside. I’m speaking.” I ducked my head in gratitude, but a few flashes went off anyway. I glared in the general direction of the strobe, but it was too late. If they’d wanted their shot that badly, they’d gotten it. At least Janelle and I weren’t
cozy
close when the lens snapped, but she was definitely right beside me.

It is what it is.

Grandfather taught me that one. Over the years, it had served me well in a variety of crises. Did tonight qualify as one? And did I care? I’d bend the rules to make it fit, needing the man’s subliminal hand on my psychological compass right now. If I trusted myself to run the thing, my sanity would end up in the middle of some jungle, searching for bugs for breakfast.