When Empires Fall (30 page)

He managed a dry smile as he snickered, leaning against the cabinet now and folding his arms over his chest casually. “I’m in town visiting a friend. Thought I’d come by and see you.”

“Well, now that you have gotten what you wanted, perhaps you will make my wish come true and go get run over by a bus.” Dark humor graced her expression as she continued to watch him. Just how many ways had she imagined him dying? All those painful, inspired ways...

“That’s not a very nice way to tell me you missed me, sweetheart,” he mused, his own dark humor kicking in. “Though I suppose I should be thanking my lucky stars you didn’t drive an eight inch knife right through my heart the second I walked in here.”

“Darling, stabbing you would be satisfying, but much too messy.” Madison tilted her head up mockingly then, staring down her nose at him as her lips curved. “I have a .357 revolver in my desk drawer that would serve the purpose much more practically.”

He didn’t doubt she would use it if she were overly provoked, so he swiftly changed the subject. “So I see you’ve got yourself a nice little office and a secretary now. Long way from managing the wait staff in Vegas.”

“Nothing good is given to those who don’t earn it first.” She turned away from him and went back to her desk, needing to compose herself as the memories flooded as fast as a roaring river through her, leaving her unsettled and miserable. She couldn’t let him see just how much she both longed for and scorned those endless, hot days in Las Vegas. Settling into her chair once again, she looked up at him and this time, no smile graced her face. “Unless you have something else to say, I think you should go.”

He nodded, backing away from the file cabinet and straightening, hating himself for wishing things had been different between them. There was no room for regrets where she was concerned, he knew. After all, he had done her a favor all those years ago.

“It’s good to see you, sweetheart,” Wyatt told her, enough honesty in his words to hurt them both. “Maybe one day we can be friends.”

Madison pursed her lips, determined to hold on to her anger and her pride. “If you ever come near me again, Wyatt, it will be the last thing you ever do.”

He said nothing, oddly amused by the notion that this most definitely was
not
going to be the last time she would see him and that he may actually die on this trip and never make it back to Maine.

Hell, it had still been worth it, to release Win from his fears and to see the woman Madison had become, savoring her that one last time. Yes, the risk of certain death was most definitely worth that price.

“I look forward to it. See you around.” He tipped his hat to her with a slow grin before turning on his heel and sauntering right back out of her office the way he’d come in. He left the door wide open so she could watch him leave and her eyes bored into his back, cold and intense, while her heart pounded violently with both malice and despair.

Both Carrie and Quinn eyed her curiously, but instead of facing them, she simply got to her feet and slammed the door shut herself.

Grant found himself
staring out of his office window constantly that day, unable to do anything more than think about her. Sure, she had appeared polite and cheerful enough that morning when she’d come in to work, but he could see the darkness that shadowed her expression and the hurt that weakened her smile. He’d made an ass of himself and in doing so had harmed her. The guilt he felt over it had been eating away at his conscience ever since he’d watched her walk out of his office the night before, her arms wrapped solidly around her body as if she couldn’t get warm. He had never felt so awful over anything in his entire life, except for maybe the recent incident with his brother.

Funny how it works that way, he realized sourly. When it rains, it nearly always pours.

Or snows, he considered, watching the flakes of white fall steadily from the sky outside, coating everything in sight. It seemed as though it had been snowing constantly these last twenty-four hours, as if nature wanted to reflect his dismal mood.

He jolted at the sudden, quiet knock on his door, then felt his chest constrict painfully as Quinn opened it and stepped inside.

“The tile samples for the new pool arrived.” She left the door wide open and approached him, a small box and some paperwork in her hands, her eyes focused determinedly on his. Her lips curved into a polite, albeit distant smile as she set the box onto his desk and handed him the papers. “Also, your mother faxed these forms over for you to sign regarding the equipment rental for the Breast Cancer Fundraiser.”

“Thank you,” Grant murmured, accepting the paperwork from her and setting it aside, struggling to find the right words to say to her.

“Let me know if you need anything else.” Quinn turned on her heel and started to leave the office. He watched her go for a brief moment before he called out to her, knowing he couldn’t let her leave without at least attempting to clear the air.

“Quinn, please.”

She stopped and shut her eyes tight against the wave of dread she felt wash over her at that moment, knowing exactly what was coming. Turning around to face him again, she blinked back the hurt and stood as tall as she could muster, needing to hold on to her dignity.

“I know what you’re going to say, Grant, and it’s not necessary,” she blurted out, glancing over her shoulder and lowering her voice as she stepped back towards him, not wanting Carrie to overhear their conversation. She paused right before his desk and crossed her arms over her chest defensively. “Last night was a mistake, I know that. It’s done, so now we can both just pretend it didn’t happen, okay?”

Grant stared up at her, taken aback. “Mistake?”

“Yes, a mistake. You obviously realized that halfway through kissing me and were more than happy to have the excuse of a phone call to distance yourself. I get it, you regret coming on to me, that’s fine. I can handle that. What I can’t handle is you trying to let me down gently or placate me and make me somehow understand that you don’t think I’m good enough for you. I won’t have it. I don’t care who you are, but I deserve better than that. Ergo, from here on out, we’ll pretend it never happened and there will be nothing but professionalism between us.”

It surprised her to see real anger flash in his eyes then as he rose to his feet, towering over her. “Is that what you think this is? You think that I feel you are less than I am?”

She felt her lips part in surprise at the heat in his tone, not realizing just how badly her words had both hurt and angered him. “That was the impression I got, frankly.”

“Well, you’re wrong,” he informed her, leaning over the desk with his hands planted on its surface, meeting her gaze fiercely. “I went against my better judgment last night, but if I’m being honest with myself, I do not regret it. What I do regret is allowing my own personal baggage to ruin the moment we had. Next time, and there will be a next time, Quinn, I won’t let it get in the way again.”

Properly deflated and feeling more than a little flabbergasted, Quinn sat unsteadily down into one of his chairs and pouted, unsure what to say to him. After a few moments of silence, she looked up at him sheepishly.

“And to think I was about to unleash all matter of Sicilian fury on you.”

“Looks like my French temper beat you to it,” he told her as he rounded his desk and approached her slowly, his eyes intent on hers. He stopped before the chair she sat in and reached out to tilt her face up so he could see her clearly. “I am not an easy person to be around, but I will always be honest with you. You should know that I have broken several of my own rules between yesterday and today, a fact that bothers me greatly. But you should also know that this one and only time, it was worth it to me.”

“So what happens now?” she asked, her voice barely more than a whisper as she stared up at him. “I don’t expect you to compromise yourself for me. This is obviously unprofessional, Grant, I know that…”

“I suppose I could fire you.”

Her eyes widened and her mouth fell open stupidly. “No, please don’t. I have rent to pay, and my bills, and the money I’m saving up for culinary school, and-”

“I was only joking, Quinn.” He smiled down at her, amused. “The last thing I want to do right now is train another secretary.”

“Good.” She let out a relieved breath and a half laugh as she smiled. “That really wouldn’t be the fastest way to a girl’s heart, anyway.”

“No, it wouldn’t be.” He looked at her curiously then, pulling his hand away from her face. “You didn’t tell me you had plans to attend culinary school.”

“Oh, well I need to save up the money for it first.” She blushed, realizing how foolish it probably sounded to him. “I know I’m a little old to be going back to school again, but I’ve been giving it some thought, and maybe I’m not as prepared as I thought I was for being a chef.”

“You’re a great cook,” he told her, surprised to hear her doubting herself.

Quinn’s lips curved into a quick smile, pleased at his praise of her. “Thank you, but, well, after I spoke with your sister about the hotel restaurant and any open positions-”

“You spoke with Madison?” His eyes narrowed now as he continued to watch her.

“Awhile ago, yeah,” Quinn sighed, annoyed by the memory. “I asked her if she would consider me if any positions opened up in the kitchen, and she asked me if I had a professional education, which of course I don’t. So she dismissed me. I don’t blame her, really, though I do wish she’d let me do a test run or something just to prove that I’m perfectly capable of handling myself in the kitchen. I’ve always believed that you can learn more by apprenticing than by sitting in a classroom somewhere watching demos.”

Disapproval flashed over his expression as he shot a glance towards the open office door, thinking of his sister. “I’m sorry if she was rude to you. I will discuss this with her.”

“Don’t you think that will make her a little suspicious?” Quinn shook her head wearily. “Like I said before, Grant, I don’t want you to compromise yourself for me.”

“This is important to you,” he said simply, turning back to her as his eyes hardened with determination. “Therefore I’m going to do everything within my power to make it happen. It may not be for awhile, since there are no openings now that I’m aware of, but-”

“Stop.” She rose to her feet, a warm smile gracing her lips. “Thank you. I can’t even begin to tell you how much this means to me.”

He let out a soft exhale of breath, his hand reaching up towards her face. “I’m just repaying the favor.”

He started to lean down to kiss her, but in that same moment he heard his sister’s heels clicking across the wooden floor outside the office, causing them both to pull apart like guilty teenagers. They both turned to face the doorway just as Madison strolled in, one eyebrow raised incredulously.

“Am I interrupting something?” she asked smoothly, eyeing Quinn disapprovingly before looking at her brother.

“No,” Grant lied, clearing his throat before looking back at Quinn. “Thank you for the fax.”

“You’re welcome.” She smiled, unable to help herself, as she swept past him and left the office, returning to her desk. Madison promptly closed the door shut the second she was gone.

Restless, she crossed the room and went to stand before his wide windows, eyeing the snowy scene outside. For a long moment she said nothing.

Wyatt was out there somewhere, she knew. Hopefully driving that car of his off a godforsaken bridge.

“This snow had better let up soon or I’m going to scream,” she muttered, more to herself than to her brother. He stepped towards her, sensing something was bothering her and knowing perfectly well that it wasn’t the snow.

“The airport should be cleared by tomorrow, and then they can come home,” he assured her, wrapping his arm around her comfortingly and staring out at the streets below.

“I’m sure mother is having a blast being stuck at a fucking Hilton in Chicago with no one but dad for company,” she spat, sneering at the thought. “To think that I gave in and sent him extra money this month. I even threatened him that if I found out he had used it to get drunk or high that I would cut him off. But no, instead he’s being brought here, to live under our roof, after going to the goddamn press and single-handedly turning all of our lives upside down.”

“I’ve already spoken with a real estate agent about selling the house he’s been living in,” Grant told her, feeling a surge of justice from the thought. “We’re going to put him up in a rental, a studio apartment most likely, and severely limit his purchasing power. This won’t happen again, Mads. I won’t let it.”