“Forgive her?” I asked. “What happened to the guilt you said you felt when Tony and Ivy nearly died because of what Mom did?”
“I do feel guilty, but what’s that going to accomplish now? They’re fine. It worked out.” He looked at me. “Don’t you love her? She’s your mother.”
I walked away from the argument because I didn’t want to stay and lose my temper. He understood. My father and I do not believe in losing control.
Still, I thought he’d do what was proper after a couple of weeks and stop seeing her. He isn’t a complete idiot, nor is he impulsive. He knows how much this is going to hurt the rest of us—his three children. He might think it’s time we all forgive the past, but I can’t. How could I? How could Tony or Court…or Ivy, for that matter?
Mom did her best to constantly remind all of us about Katherine, the little girl she lost. But that wasn’t enough; she made it crystal-clear that it was our duty to tiptoe on eggshells around her. I don’t think she ever stopped to consider the fact that the daughter she lost was also our sister—and
that we grieved, too. And I’ll never forget the way Dad condoned our mother’s emotional abuse and neglect. No, it was worse. He participated in the mistreatment because of how he felt about Mom.
Love, indeed.
I put the phone on my desk, screen down. Then I lean back in my chair, looking around my sparse and functional office, trying to gather my thoughts and emotions so they don’t spiral out of control. I loosened the reins four weeks ago, and I can’t afford to do it again so soon.
What do I expect Dad to do?
I expect him to do the right thing. The honorable thing—cut Mom out of his life completely. Salvage what’s left of the family. Think about us—his remaining children—for a change.
And he needs to quit whining about love.
“Edgar, you have a meeting in three,” comes Susan’s voice over the intercom.
“Got it.”
Putting my game face on, I head to the presentation our CFO called for. Dad is at the head of the table, calm as ever in his fancy suit. Jo’s right about being able to project whatever you want with your outfit. From the way he’s dressed, you’d think he was a nice businessman with a sensible mind, which is a terrible lie. I try to ignore him because I don’t want to stew on my disappointment and resentment at work. He and Mom spending time together is a family matter.
A family matter that when you found out made you confront Dad…then drove you away to Los Angeles.
Well…not exactly away. Yuna texted me about the party she was hosting and I went because I needed to clear my head, out of the Tempérane pressure cooker. It was ridiculous and silly…
You didn’t think Jo was silly.
Heat surges at the sudden reminder. No, Jo wasn’t silly. She was fun. Sexy as hell. And…she cried my name underneath me like I was the only thing that mattered to her in that moment, her body pliant and hot and…
I shift in my seat. It’s really not good to be sporting an erection while the CFO is discussing… What is he talking about? Oh, right. The slide says, “Supply Glut and Its Impact on Our Profit Margin.” It’s a serious issue for Blackwood Energy, and my meeting wood should settle down…except it doesn’t because Jo’s “more, harder…please” is echoing in my head over one of Dad’s sycophants’ decidedly unsexy, yet overeducated voice.
Jo was amazing, and the sex was shattering. If I were younger and more idealistic, I would’ve thought myself in love.
We stayed up until just before dawn, and I couldn’t get enough of her. Even now I wish she were here so I could lose myself in her.
But I’m not going to see her again. She’s in Los Angeles, and she made it clear she didn’t want to have a relationship. On top of everything else, she’s just damn inconvenient, distracting me way too frequently.
I do not allow women to derail me from what I should be doing. I’m not weak or blind like Dad. A woman is like a good wine. You appreciate a glass, maybe two…and then you’re finished. You don’t keep imbibing until you’re drunk—or worse, let the taste consume you and pull you away from your duties in life. Such as being there for your children. Protecting them. Caring for them. Let them know they aren’t on their own…
But my body doesn’t understand my stance on the matter. Lust lingers in my blood, my cock refusing to accept that it won’t get to experience Jo’s tight, supple body again…
Still, despite my initial annoyance, it’s good that she left without a word when she did. No phone number, nothing. A clean, simple ending. An ideal outcome, really.
You could always get her number. It wouldn’t be difficult…
But she didn’t leave it, so I’m not going to. If I don’t have it, I won’t be tempted to call.
When the meeting finally ends, I stand up to leave for my office, leather portfolio strategically positioned to hide my condition.
My assistant gives me a funny look. Does she notice? But it wouldn’t be like her to act like she notices.
“Yes, Susan?” My tone is coolly polite.