Rulers of Deception (7 page)

“You have no
idea how badly I needed this,” Madison called out into the wind, enjoying the feel of it coasting along her skin and throwing back her hair. She held on to the wide-brimmed, royal blue sun hat she wore, her smile radiant as she lifted her face to the setting sun.

Wyatt gripped the ropes of the sailboat, leaning into them as he shifted the direction out to sea. The casual white pants he wore fluttered around his legs in the breeze, his loose cotton shirt pressed against his chest. “You can tell me, you know.”

She shook her head, her eyes taking in the white-crested waves and the seagulls that danced in the sky. In the distance, she could see the smooth curve of Long Island and the many boats that frequented the Sound. “He’s not worth a second more of my time.”

“He, huh?” Wyatt crouched down beside her, hanging on to one of the ropes. “You got a new boyfriend I don’t know about?”

The very thought revolted her. “No. McAllister’s son, Daniel.” When he only continued to look at her, she sighed. “He came by to meet us today and decided to insult us at the same time.”

He couldn’t see her eyes behind the dark tinted glasses she wore, but knew they’d be sparking with heat. “Bastard.”

A sly smile curved her lips. “Which is exactly why he doesn’t deserve my time.”

“Well then, let this old sailor take you on a voyage.” He tapped a finger under her chin playfully and stood, shielding his eyes with his hand as he looked out over the water. “You see, sweetheart, before man could fly to freedom, he sailed for it.”

“You love it.” She could hear it in his voice, and adored him for it.

“I spent more time on a boat than on land when I was a kid, drawn to that razor’s edge of a horizon.”

She closed her eyes, enjoying the combination of his voice and the hum of the sea. “I wish I could have known your parents.”

Wyatt smiled, the sentiment bittersweet. “You would’ve scared the shit out of them.”

“How so? I can be nice,” she argued, lips pursed.

“I know, that’s not what would have scared them.” He lowered again and brought her face to his. “It would have scared them to see me so obsessed with you. Their wild, rebellious son who swore he’d never settle down unless it was with a boat and the open sea.”

“But things changed for you,” she recalled, remorse over what little she knew about his youth stinging her heart. To make it worse, she knew she could do nothing to mend the ache in his heart. It was as much a part of him as the marrow in his very bones.

“I didn’t sail for a long time after my dad and brother died.” Wyatt looked out to the water, the pain of missing them hitting him like one of those crashing waves. “Coming back to you put the love of the sea back into me.”

Madison reached for his hand, squeezing it in her own. “You never lost it, darling. Our passions may lay dormant, but they never leave us.”

“Coming from a woman who’s never short on passion,” he mused, lifting her hand to his lips for a soft kiss. He nibbled on her knuckles and grinned. “Seeing you out here on my boat does things to me,
ma belle
. Bad things.”

One of her eyebrows quirked up, a devilish gleam in her eyes. “Is that so?”

“Elegant class meets the mayhem of the sea. It’s an irresistible combination.” He sat down beside her and draped his arm over her shoulders, drawing her in. They both looked out to the horizon as the sun set to the west, cloaking the waves in shimmering light. “Are you sure you don’t want to do the whole wedding thing? We still could.”

She nestled her head in the crook of his neck, breathing in the sweet scent of his cologne mixed with the lightly tangy scent of sweat. “Going to the courthouse and making it official was enough for me. I don’t need a ceremony for the approval of others to prove my love for you. I know what’s in my heart.”

“I have to admit my favorite part was the trip to Maine afterward…you and me in a lighthouse with a raging storm outside and nothing but candles and blankets to keep us warm and dry.”

She remembered the crackling jolts of lightning and the roar of crashing waves. Lying in a small bed at the base of the lighthouse, bracing against the storm and each other.

“I never understood the appeal of such places until that night. I’d say it was better than any church wedding.”

He held her closer, removing her hat so he could raise her face to his. “What would a couple of sinners like us do in a church, anyway?”

Her lips curved. “We’d be laughed out, or chased with torches.”

“Doused in holy water.”

She laughed, the sound blending with the splash of waves hitting the boat. “I’m proud that we defy convention. It means we aren’t like anyone else.”

“I knew from the moment I laid eyes on you that there would never be another woman like you.”

“No, there won’t be.” She leaned in to kiss him. Her teeth nipped his mouth teasingly as she smiled. “I slipped some champagne into my purse.”

“That’s my girl. Are we celebrating something?”

“Victory, darling. We’re celebrating victory.”

Of all the
years he’d lived in the townhouse with its breathtaking view of the city, Grant knew it hadn’t become a home until Quinn.

Coming home from a long day’s work to the scent of her cooking and the sound of her laughter gave him a reason to get up in the morning. It gave him the ability to carry on, to thrive. She filled a void he’d never realized existed, a gaping hole in his chest that she’d patched over with loving stitches and a careful hand.

He liked to think he’d given her much of the same—security, a comfortable home. A shot at a career as a chef in his hotel’s premiere restaurant. Though he had to admit he missed having her close by every day as his secretary. Her replacement was satisfactory, but no one could ever compare to Quinn.

He looked up from his seat on the covered outdoor patio when he heard her step outside. She smiled brightly, her hands filled with a plate, wine glasses, and a freshly opened bottle of Chianti.

“I picked up this fabulous Chianti the other day and completely forgot about it.” She laughed, handing him a glass and setting down the plate. It was loaded with flaky slices of aged Parmigiano-Reggiano cheese, prosciutto, and olives, carefully chosen to pair perfectly with the wine. He knew Quinn was never one to take the culinary arts lightly.

“Sit down, let me pour,” Grant offered, taking the bottle from her and ushering her into the seat beside him.

She plopped down onto the softly cushioned armchair, releasing a quiet sigh. “You really don’t have to. I don’t mind.”

“Let me do things for you, Quinn.” He poured her a glass, then filled his own. His eyes found hers as he set the bottle aside and lifted his glass for a toast. “
Santé
.”

“
Salud.
” Her glass clicked against his before she lifted it for a sip. Her eyes widened. “Oh,
oh
.”

He tasted the wine himself and frowned at the look on her face. “Do you not like it?”

“Oh, god no. It’s divine!” she gushed, sipping again and swishing the liquid around on her tongue. “Wow.” With her free hand, she patted herself on the shoulder and grinned. “I did good.”

His eyebrows rose in amusement. “You didn’t make the wine, you just bought it.”

“I know, but you see I have a sense for this kind of thing and I just knew when I picked this up it’d be brilliant. And it is!” A delighted laugh bubbled from her throat. She sampled a slice of cheese to test its compatibility with the wine, decided it was perfect as well. “I really should have gotten into wine making.”

“We can arrange for classes, if you’d like.”

She started to laugh it off, then realized he was serious. Of course he was serious. “No, that’s okay. I’m happy being a chef, trust me. There’s nothing else I’d rather be doing.”

He didn’t look convinced. “You probably get bored here while I’m working late. Why don’t you take night classes?”

“Well, I really do keep busy. Menu planning, grocery shopping, taking care of Miles,” she playfully nudged the sleeping old dog with her foot, “listening to Ma whine about dad not taking his high blood pressure seriously…I don’t know how I could fit classes into that.”

“The offer’s open, if you change your mind,” he said easily, leaning back in his chair and sipping his wine.

“I know, and I appreciate it, I do.” She reached down to scratch Miles behind the ears, smiling. “Besides, now I have Ma breathing down the back of my neck about when I’m gonna get pregnant, so God knows that’s a lot to handle.”

Grant choked, blinking back the shock. “Pregnant?”

Quinn looked at him, brows furrowed. “Well, yeah. Eventually, anyway. I know we haven’t really talked about it, which is what I told her. But you know how Sicilian women are…nosy, nosy, nosy.”

He winced and looked away from her, clearly uneasy. Realizing how uncomfortable it made him hurt her more than she thought it would. Did he not want kids at all?

“You know, maybe I should look into those classes. If anything, I could learn a bit more about the process and about the pairings that I don’t already know.” She attempted a smile, not wanting him to be upset with her. When he simply nodded and continued to stare at the city lights in silence, she knew she’d hit his infamous brick wall.

With a sigh, she sat back in her seat and drank some more wine, wondering if he was ever,
ever
going to fully let her in. If not her, than who? Anger simmered within her as they sat in awkward silence, his lack of words only causing her to fill in the blanks. Why was he always so difficult? Why couldn’t he just say how he felt?

“So I guess you’re just fine sitting here in silence, huh?” she asked, her eyes suddenly wet with tears. “Heaven forbid you just say
something
to me. Anything.”

Grant looked at her, speechless at her anger. It only upset her more.

“I can’t keep having these one-sided conversations with myself, Grant. I can’t do it. I didn’t marry you so I could sit here and talk to myself about our problems.” She wiped at the tears that fell, as startled by them as he was. “Damnit.”

Without another word she shot to her feet and fled inside, a sob escaping her throat that she didn’t want him to hear. He stared at the wine glasses and cheese plate and wondered what the hell just happened. Quinn never acted this way.

Guilt crept in and spoiled his mood. He realized he was probably being unfair to her, and yet he didn’t know how to be any different. This was just who he was. She knew that going into this and if she didn’t want to accept it then…

A dull ache bloomed in his heart at the thought. He polished off the rest of his wine glass and poured another. He settled back into his chair and despised himself for still not knowing what to do for his wife.

D
espite knowing it was a glorious waste of time, Linc couldn’t help but stew over Daniel McAllister’s words. Everything about the guy irritated him—the bored, entitled look on his face, the pitchy, whiny tone of his voice. The pathetic delusion he held that the Vasser name was hurting his company.

Hell, not even
his
company, though he liked to think so. It was Reed McAllister’s company, and as long as Reed held the reins Linc had to hope Daniel held no influence. It was just the sort of thing they didn’t need right now—some meddling jackass with a bone to pick for no goddamn reason other than to stir up trouble. If Grant hadn’t talked him out of it, he would have called up Reed and demanded he tell his son to shut the hell up next time he decided to show his face in a meeting.