"I don't remember anything about that, sir. I was very young." That was true enough. Dallas had only been five when his birth mother--who he remembered only as smelling of cigarettes--had left him in the Hamptons.
Eli nodded. "You were. And I consider that a blessing." He stood and went to the bar to pour himself a scotch. "You didn't have enough time with Donovan for him to taint you."
Dallas noticed that Eli didn't mention the trouble that Dallas got into in high school. Experimenting with drugs. Theft. He'd been a fuckup and it had gotten him shipped overseas, and at the time, Eli had been more than willing to blame Dallas's behavior on bad blood.
Honestly, Eli had been right.
Dallas really didn't have any genuine memories of his birth parents, but as soon as he was old enough to read, he'd made it a priority to learn what he could. He'd found nothing about his birth mother. But about Donovan--his birth father and Eli's brother--he'd found plenty.
If it was illegal or immoral, Donovan Sykes was there. A bad boy straight out of central casting, Donovan had fucked anything that moved, been arrested for possession of both heroin and cocaine, had partied with Hollywood stars, raced high-end cars down the Pacific Coast Highway, and basically offered himself up as the poster child for irresponsibility.
At first, Dallas had been disgusted with Donovan. But then, as he got older and started to have sexual thoughts about his sister, Dallas had been disgusted with himself. More than that, he'd feared Eli's rejection, because hadn't Eli written his brother off even before Dallas had been dumped on his doorste
p? What was to stop him from writing off his adopted son, too?
Dallas had tested the limits of Eli's love. He'd done drugs--mostly pot, but he'd experimented with harder stuff once or twice, too. He'd stolen cars. And, yes, he'd gotten himself off to thoughts of Jane.
And through all of it, his father had been there for him. Yes, he'd tossed around the "bad blood" insult, but he hadn't tossed Dallas out on his ass--instead, he'd sent him away. And while being shipped off to boarding school had pissed Dallas off at first, he'd come to understand that his parents were trying to pull him back to them, not push him away.
Not that he'd realized all of that at the time. But during the last seventeen years of therapy he'd talked about more than the kidnapping. He was well aware of his litany of issues, and he knew that he'd conquered many of them.
The ones that still lingered were the deepest and the darkest, with Jane right down there in the center. A place he really didn't want her to be, but where she would remain until he could somehow exorcise her from his heart.
And that, he knew, was never going to happen.
His father returned to the chair, pausing in front of Dallas long enough to hand him a drink, which Dallas took gratefully.
"I'm sorry, sir. I'm not really sure where you're going with this."
"I just want you to remember that, like it or not, he's your father, too. So think hard when you move through your life, son, about whose footsteps you want to follow."
Was this about his public lifestyle? Or was it about Jane? Was his father simply giving Dallas some fatherly advice on how to behave in the world of business? Or was he issuing a subtle reminder that his threat to disinherit still lingered?
He met his father's eyes. "I don't ever want to disappoint you or Mom."
"I know you don't, son. And that's one of the reasons I'm so proud of you. I just thought I should tell you. I don't think I tell you often enough."
Message delivered, Eli stood. "Well, then. I should probably go see what your mother's up to. Will we see you in the main house for dinner?"
Dallas thought of Jane. More, he thought about how he really didn't want to run into her, not after what just happened. He was too raw. Too goddamn mortified. "I'm not sure," he said. "I've still got to run through my call list. I may just grab a sandwich and visit with Poppy later."
"Sounds good." As they walked to the door, his father started rattling off some thoughts about an upcoming company retreat. Dallas barely even listened. Instead, his thoughts were on Jane. On Deliverance. On Adele and the dark places into which he so often sunk.
And he knew that whether or not he wanted to, inevitably he would disappoint the people he loved.
--
Liam was coming toward the bungalow as Eli was leaving, and Dallas left the door open so his friend could enter.
"Good trip?" he asked, as Liam shut the door and crossed to the bar. He dropped his leather messenger bag on the floor and pulled down a glass.
"This place is a pain in the ass to get to," Liam complained. "Especially if you have to crisscross all over the globe to manage it." He poured a shot of tequila and drank it straight, an affinity that Dallas neither understood nor shared.
"I saw Poppy, though," Liam said. "He's pretty spry for a hundred."
"That he is." Dallas joined him at the bar and poured his own drink. Frankly, he could use it.
"So where's Jane?" Liam said. "I figured she'd be here."