Escorting the Billionaire - Part 3

She pulled back and looked at my face. “Stop it. Your mother is a monster. While we’re at it, so is mine. We didn’t make them that way.”

I took her face in my hands. “Please tell me what she said. No matter what, I promise you, I’ll make it better. If she doesn’t want me to know, I’ll pretend I don’t. I’ll deny it till I die. Just tell me.”

“Your mother doesn’t fight fair,” Audrey said. I could see her visibly calming herself down, drinking her wine and taking deep breaths.

“Go on.”

“I told her about the letters. I said that I was going to send them to the Tribune. She didn’t flinch. She wasn’t even surprised,” Audrey said. “She said it was an amateur move. And then she said she’d called my mother, and that she was having her lawyer look into having my mother reinstated as Tommy’s guardian.” She swallowed hard. “She said I didn’t have a legal right to take her off his account at the home in the first place. She’s started paying my mother so that she’ll never go public with the information about me.”

She looked up at me. “I had to promise her that I’d stay away from you, James. And that I wouldn’t even tell you this. She said she’d take Tommy away from me. She’ll make sure that my mother gets total control. And she’ll do it, James. I know she will.”

Even though she hadn’t moved, I could almost feel her pulling away from me in her voice.

“She won’t do that. I won’t let her.” I wrapped my arms around her. “I’m so sorry, Audrey.”

“No. It’s my fault,” she said, her voice flat. “She told me I didn’t belong. She gave me fair warning.”

“She doesn’t get to win,” I said, holding her to me. “And neither does your mother, Audrey.”

“I don’t know. I don’t see a way out of this.”

“There’s always a way out,” I said, my mind churning. “We have tonight to figure out what it is. Tomorrow, we’re back with the nuclear arms.”

“I’d be happy with a BB gun at this point,” she muttered.

“One of my first business rules is, when it gets scary, stay in and push. That’s not the time to back off. And also—it’s okay to lie. There’s something to be said for saying one thing and doing another.”

“Ethical behavior is pretty much a non-issue for me at this point,” Audrey said, watching my face. “What’re you thinking?”

“I’m thinking,” I said, “that we f**k with her a little.”

Audrey looked at me expectantly, like that wasn’t good enough.

“Or a lot, babe.”

* * *

Later, as she slept in my arms, I made plans. I ran my fingers up and down her smooth skin, relishing the feel of her. I loved her. She was mine; nothing my mother could do or say was going to change that. I thought of Danielle, of what had happened. I would never forgive my parents for what they’d done to her. My heart was closed against them forever.

To Danielle, whose life was taken too early, I sent out silent love and prayers that she’d gone on to a better place and that maybe she could forgive me. As I sat there in the dark, I tried to forgive myself. I had no idea who my parents were when I was eighteen. I had an inkling… but I hadn’t realized the depths they would sink to in order to protect their precious, useless ideals.

I hadn’t known they were capable of murder.

I watched Audrey’s chest rise and fall. I was almost forty. I’d spent the last twenty years shielding myself from love, from feeling connected to another person. There’d been too much pain when Danielle died. I don’t even think I’d realized what I was doing—burying myself in my work, developing an endless list of projects, dating women I didn’t even like. But I didn’t regret any of it except for the loss of Danielle. Because each step had brought me to needing to hire a date for my baby brother’s wedding, and that date had ended up being Audrey.

Who was the love of my life.

“Audrey.” I said. “Wake up.”

“What?” she asked, alarmed, and sat straight up. “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing,” I said, still stroking her skin. “I just wanted to tell you something.”

She lay back down, still half-asleep. “What is it?”

“I love you,” I said.

“I love you, too,” she said. She put her hand on my chest, tracing my muscle.

“You’re moving to Los Angeles with me,” I said.

“Yes. I told you I would. If your mother doesn’t run me off the road first. ”