Page 114 of The Grand Duel
Because he’s not an idiot. This is his work—his life, and he knows there would have had to be a good reason for them to be arrested.
In his arms, I feel safe. Safe to maybe say the words out loud for the first time in my adult life. Not to my parents, not to my sister, and not to a therapist who did absolutely nothing for me because I wasn’t allowed to be honest. But to this man, my boss, my friend, who seemingly, in a bizarre twist of events, cares.
I shake my head, not being able to. “I don’t want to go back there tonight,” I whisper—a plea.
His face softens, and then he pulls me in a little closer.
“When my sister got pregnant with Willow, my parents told her she had to terminate the pregnancy,” I say into his chest, giving him something. “They wanted the two of us to eventually take over Elton’s, and with no other heirs, my dad was desperatefor a son,” I explain. “They felt their sixteen-year-old daughter getting knocked up was not only extremely embarrassing for them, but that it also meant her life was over. When told they would disown her if Jovie continued with the pregnancy and wouldn’t receive a penny of her inheritance, and with the complete disregard and lack of responsibility they showed for their part in their barely legal child losing her way, I told Jove we’d do it alone.” I shrug awkwardly, not knowing what else to do. “Jovie had her bags packed before I could even think on where we’d go. But it’s been three years now, and we’re doing great. I use the money from the club and Charles Aldridge to live off and support Jovie and Willow.”
“Your parents let you leave?”
I smile sadly, still remembering my mother on the floor of our entryway, sobbing. “Not with ease.” I swallow. “They sold Elton’s that year. Jovie and I each received our twenty-five percent when Willow was six days old.” My eyes meet his face, finding him engrossed in my every word. “I’ve always wondered how twenty-five percent was so easy to give up, and yet an apology—or just acknowledgement of what they did to me—to us,” I add, quickly. “Was impossible.”
“I’m sorry, Lissie.”
“Don’t be. I’ve honestly never been happier in life than I am right now.”
His brow flexes. “Yeah?”
I nod. “I miss Jovie, of course, but everything else seems to be finally settling into place.”
“I can’t imagine not being close with my parents,” he says softly.
My smile is soft and slow. “Will you tell me about them?”
He peers down at me, his mind clearly still processing my mess of a trauma dump.
I squeeze his side, wanting the fun, lighter man I had before. “Please, Charles.”
His chest rumbles against mine. “You’ve got that off to a tee.”
“What? The way I say…Charles.”
“Yes.” He looks away. “Does things to me.”
My face burns, my smile stupidly still intact and not showing signs of easing. “What sort of things?”
When he continues to focus his attention on the rest of the room, I go up on my tiptoes and try to invade his eye line.
He ducks me.
I follow. “What sort of things, Charles?”
His mouth twists, and I let go of his hand and grab his chin, pulling his face back to me. “Huh?”
His free hand wraps around the other side of my back, holding me flush against him. He shakes his head, stare locked as we settle in the hold, our dance long forgotten.
I lift my chin, catching my bottom lip between my teeth to ease my smile. “Tell me what it does to you,” I say softly.
He leans in, lips an inch from mine.
My heart pounds, and there’s no way he doesn’t feel it. Feel whathedoes to me.
His mouth parts, my eyes drop, arousal stirring deep in my gut at the anticipation of his lips on mine.
“No.” He spins me, catching my hand before dragging me back to him.
I throw my head back and laugh.