“Oh.” He watched her expression, looking for pity. Most woman who knew he’d grown up without a mother quickly saw that as a reason for his over protective nature, a reason to show him how much a woman could love a man. They wanted to heal a part of him that didn’t need healing, but not Carissa. That one little word had been her response, and there wasn’t anything lurking behind it. Like she understood, she got it, and didn’t see anything to feel sorry for.
“She didn’t fight for custody? I mean your father is a big guy to go up against, but there wasn’t a fight?” More curiosity than pity laced her tone. Hope, maybe. Did she hope, like he had for so many years, that his mother at least had fought for him before walking away emptyhanded?
“No. She decided motherhood and being my dad’s wife wasn’t what she wanted, and she walked.” He grabbed his beer and took another swig. He’d gotten over his mother’s betrayal years ago.
His father, distant and cold, hadn’t given him much notice really but he’d made sure he had an excellent education and everything else he needed to grow up successful.
“What about you? Your parents still married?”
She gave a laugh.
“No.” She picked at the label on her beer bottle. “Last I heard from my dad, he was living somewhere in Texas. New wife, new life. But that was years ago. Who knows where he is or what he’s up to? Not much of a settler.” She gave him a smile, but it didn’t quite touch her eyes. He didn’t see sadness, and he didn’t suspect that she wanted any more pity than he did over her broken home.
“How about your mom? She still lives in Chicago?” He wasn’t sure what made him press her about her parents. She didn’t look very comfortable about the topic—any more than he was, but he needed to know more about her. He wanted to know all her bumps and bruises, everything about her.
“Yeah. Well, the suburbs. She lives out in Carpentersville with whichever current boyfriend she has.” He could make out the distaste she had for her mother in her tone. “We don’t see each other very often. It’s good. We’ve never been very close—she’s lived a bit of a nomad’s life, and I preferred to be settled. When she left the city to head out to the burbs with one of her boyfriends, I grabbed the first apartment I could find and stayed put.”
“What about nursing school? Did you do that here in the city?”
She nodded. “Yeah. Worked my ass off to pay for what I could. With student loans and a grant or two, I was able to get through.”
He imagined her working herself to the bone in order to provide a life for herself where she didn’t need to depend on a mother who seemed to not be there for her.
“A lot of stepdads run through your childhood?” He wasn’t sure what made him ask that question. He’d had a few stepmoms in his life, but they mostly ignored him like his father did once the rings were exchanged.
“Not dads, just men. Mom’s still looking for her Prince Charming I think.” She smiled again and shook her head a little. “Funny. We both grew up with our parents broken, but only one of us still thinks relationships work.”
His chest tightened. “Relationships work with two people who put in the effort.” He hadn’t meant to sound hard, but there it was. His mother didn’t try, and his father didn’t try with any of his wives. But he would. Fuck. He’d give everything he had to make it work with the right woman. Even if she still didn’t believe in relationships.
“Your mom never tried to explain?”
He huffed. She changed the topic, but that was fine. They were making progress, even if she couldn’t admit to it yet.
“No, she just left. Never said a word, never sent a card or called.”
Carissa furrowed her brow and took a sip of beer. “Then how do you know she just up and went? I mean, you were seven—how did you know what was really going on? Maybe your father didn’t let her come around. He’s not exactly a nice man.”
He should have felt insulted. Wouldn’t any son feel at least annoyed if his girlfriend said something like that about this father? But she wasn’t wrong. His father was calculating and cold. If he wanted something, he took it. If he needed something, he took it, and he never gave back or gave at all unless it benefited him in some way. Even when it came to his son.
“You know my father?” he asked, more curious than insulted.
“No, not really. Garrick’s mentioned him a few times. He never came across as a real warm guy.” She blushed. “I didn’t mean to insult him—or you.”
He leaned back in his chair and let out a long breath. “No, you’re right. He’s not a good guy. All business with him.”
“Would you want to talk with your mom if you knew where she was?”
Why was she pushing the subject of his mom? The woman had walked out on him and never looked back. He stopped wishing he could talk to her again before the first pimple popped up on his pubescent face.
“You think my father paid her off or something? To stay away?” He let himself laugh over the idea. “As much as my father loves to win, I doubt even he would do that.”
She lowered her gaze. “You didn’t answer the question.”
“I don’t know.” What would he even say to her after all the years she’d been gone from his life? Could they even have a conversation that wouldn’t leave a sour, bitter taste behind? “What about your father?”
“No. I’m better off on my own. But I know where I stand with both of them. You have this unfinished part of your childhood,”
“I wouldn’t go that far.” He laughed. She’d struck a nerve, though.
As if sensing the subject was getting too hard to keep light, she asked about meeting his father.
“He wants Garrick and Jade to be there, too. Like I said, a business dinner. He wants to build a hotel here in the city, and he wants us to go in on it with him.”
“Don’t you already own half the city?” she questioned then popped the last bit of sausage into her mouth.
“No, far from it. I own little shares in a variety of businesses and clubs. I work with my father on real estate deals, but we’ve never done something like this before.”
“Hmm.” She nodded and picked up her plate. “You done?” She reached for his, and he handed it to her.
He watched her take the plates to the sink and rinse them before putting them in the dishwasher. When she opened the door to the dishwasher, he noticed a few other plates with dried remains of food.
“When’s the last time you ran that thing?” he asked, coming up behind her and pointing out a dish.
“If it’s not full, I don’t run it.” She shrugged, pushed the shelf back in, and closed the door.
“That reminds me. The coffeemaker was on when I got here. It was burning.”
“Oh crap.” She picked up the carafe and studied it. “It’s still okay.” She flashed him a smile and went about setting it in the sink and filling it with water.
“How many have you ruined doing that?” he asked, suddenly annoyed at how little she seemed to pay attention to minor things like food and her safety.
“Just two.” She winked and finished cleaning up the last of the pizza then put the box in the fridge alongside a few other containers.
“Carissa, you’re a nurse. You have to know this isn’t a healthful way of living.”
She sighed, a heavy I-don’t-want to-talk-about-this exhale. “As a nurse, I understand it, but as a nurse who often works double shifts, or odd shifts, and who doesn’t have a lot of time to cook, I understand the necessity.”
“So, if we went over to Jade’s apartment, we’d find the same thing?”
“I don’t know.” She shrugged as she told that lie.
“Where’s your computer?” he asked. It was time she let him take care of things for her, especially since she wasn’t going to do them for herself.
“In my bedroom, why?”
He didn’t answer, just marched off down the hall and grabbed the laptop, brought it back to the kitchen, and sat at the table. She stood
behind him as he logged into his Peapod account. He’d used the grocery delivery service plenty of times. He had a cleaning service for his condo, but he didn’t have a cook, so he understood how hard it was to get to the grocery store some weeks.
“What are you doing?”
“Going grocery shopping,” he said and pointed to her chair. “I’m going to give you my login, and once a week I’d better see you put in an order for groceries. Real food. Fruits, veggies, snacks.”
“Your account? I’ll open my own.” She tried to take the laptop from him, but he brushed her hands away.
He turned in his chair, cupping her chin and lifting it until she looked at him. “Little girls obey their daddy, don’t they? They do what they are told, even if it’s not what they want. Right?”
“This is different.” She tried to pull away, but he tightened his grip.
“No. It’s not. If left up to you, you’d be eating ramen noodles and takeout every night. You’ll use my account. What do good girls do when their daddy tells them to do something?”
He watched her throat constrict when she swallowed. “They listen to him.”
“That’s right. And when Daddy is taking care of you, what do you do?”
She took a deep breath. It wasn’t easy, this Q&A, but it was necessary.
“I let you.”
“That’s right. Now, I’m going to put an order in. It will be delivered tomorrow. I know you work during the day, so I’ll have them do a drop-off. It’ll be here when you get home.”
“Can’t I put in the order?” She sounded a little pitiful. He brushed his lips across hers and released her chin.
“Nope. You can put in the next one. This one is going to be a bit big. I want to be sure you have everything you need.”
She looked ready to argue, but she leaned back in the chair and turned her attention to the computer screen. “Can I at least get ice cream, Daddy?” she whispered when he clicked off the dairy tab.
* * *
Two days later, Jamison poured over projection reports and quotes from various builders and contractors. He hadn’t even started looking at the real estate proposals to buy out the buildings they would need to knock down to make room for his father’s grand hotel.
Since Carissa had questioned him about this mother, he’d found the idea of maybe looking her up drifting in and out of his mind.
Carissa had a good point. His father could have very well kept her away on purpose. Though he couldn’t think of any reason the man would do that. He’d always seen himself as a bother to his father. One more thing to take care of, or rather hire a staff member to take care of. He’d never shown much interest in Jamison until after he graduated with his MBA and started moving into the business realm. Then he’d had a purpose, and a man with purpose was held in high regard.
Once Jamison had decided to break out on his own, to not follow his father’s shadow around, his purpose had become less. Which meant Jamison himself was less needed. He hadn’t completely broken from his father’s company; he still worked on projects with him. Now that he had his own money, he was able to contribute as an investor as well. He still didn’t see an ounce of fatherly love or approval, but at least he had some purpose to him again.
That idea brought it back to Carissa. She’d written off her parents. She didn’t hold onto them, trying to wedge herself into their lives and make them see what an awesome person she’d turned out to be. She didn’t need to; she already knew it herself. She didn’t need or look for their approval. Her confidence came from herself, from her own self-worth—she didn’t need it to come from anywhere outside herself.
Which made it so much sweeter when she blushed at being called his good girl, or when she looked up at him to see if he approved.
Fuck. She was getting under his skin, more than he was prepared for. What if she walked away after the month ended? What if he couldn’t get her to understand they could make it long term, that he would be her daddy, her lover, her everything if she would just let him in. He’d never hurt her, and he’d fucking lay out anyone who tried. He wouldn’t walk away like her father and all the men her mother seemed to parade through her life.
“Mr. Croft, your father’s on his way in,” a hurried voice rang through the speaker of his phone as his door flung open.
“Father.” He sat back in his chair. “I’ve seen you more in the last week than I have in the last six months.” He was sure Baron could hear the sharpness of his tone. Though he doubted the man would address it. He looked to be on a mission again.
“You’re looking at the reports. Good.”
“Yes. Garrick and I are meeting at the location this afternoon to take a look.”
“Good. Good.” He clapped his hands together.
“You could have just called.” Jamison steepled his hands over the reports.
“I’m heading over to have lunch with Victoria, and I decided to stop in.”
“Victoria?”
“A woman I’m seeing. It’s not serious.” He waved a hand through the air. No woman was serious to his father. “I wanted to be sure you were still coming to dinner tomorrow?”
“Yes. We can talk about the project then.”
“Good. Good,” he said again and rubbed his hands together.
“Are you going to tell me why this is so important? Why this sudden change in business and so fast?”
Baron walked over to the windows behind Jamison’s desk and looked out at the city. “I’m getting older, Jamison. And I’ve realized all I’ve done my entire life is buy and sell, buy and sell. I haven’t left a real mark on anything. There’s nothing to leave behind that shows I was here.”
Jamison turned his chair to get a better look at his father, hoping maybe he was joking. Nothing left behind? Could a son not be enough?
“You want to build this hotel because you want to leave your name on something when you die?” His jaw clenched.
“I want to leave my stamp, yes.” When his father turned back to him, Jamison saw something—something he’d seen a thousand times in his father’s expression but always ignored. He’d seen the coldness, the disconnect between the two of them. No matter if Jamison did this project with him, he’d never been seen as his mark on the world. He could own half the city—hell—all of the city, and his father would still not see him as an extension of himself. He’d still just be his son.
Baron Croft was all about himself. And nothing, no amount of success would change that. Jamison talked himself into believing he didn’t care about his father’s opinion, that he didn’t need his approval to make himself worth more. But it had been just talk. Now, seeing the amount of joy his father took in thinking he was finally going to leave his stamp on the world with a fucking building, he realized what a liar he’d been to himself.
“Since you’re here, I have a question for you. It’s about Mother.”
Baron’s jaw clenched, but otherwise his expression remained passive.
“What could you possibly want to know about that woman? She walked out on you, on us both.” Baron shook his head, but something felt off this time. He’d said the same thing over and over throughout the years—she’d walked out on them—but this time Jamison noticed the shift of his gaze when he said it.
“Why? I mean throughout the divorce, she never said anything?”
Baron cleared his throat. “We didn’t see each other through the divorce. I’ve told you this. She left, and everything went through attorneys. I never saw her. And she didn’t want to have any rights to you or visitations either.”
Well-rehearsed sentences. Jamison had taken them for gospel over the years, but the little hesitations, the tiny shift in his stance sent doubt barreling through Jamison’s memories.
“Right.” Jamison took a deep breath. Baron wouldn’t be very forthcoming, and would opening old wounds really get them anywhere? How much good could it do for Jamison as a grown man?
“Well, Garrick and I will have an answer for you a
t dinner.” Jamison stood and closed the folder. “I’m sure your lady friend is waiting for you.”
Baron Croft’s expression softened, as though he noticed the change in Jamison, but he didn’t say anything about it.
“Yes. She probably is.” Baron walked around the desk, not giving another glance toward his son. “I’ll see you tomorrow night then.”
Baron walked out of the office, quietly closing the door behind him and leaving Jamison in the silence of his thoughts.
* * *
Being the son of a multi-millionaire was cliché in Jamison’s book. He’d spent most of his adult life trying to break out of that box. He didn’t play the party boy role most of the other sons seemed comfortable with. Even Garrick had taken his turn in that role for a summer, but Jamison had never bothered with it.
Yet, there he stood on the corner of Wells and Walton, looking at small block of businesses his father would have to purchase in order to build his tower. Acting the dutiful son didn’t fit him well, either. It made his stomach turn. A family-owned grocery store, a boutique, and an unmarked building—his father would be putting them out of business.
“Jamison.” Garrick stepped out of a cab and up onto the curb with him. “Is this the block?” he asked.
“This is it.” Jamison nodded. He pulled the collar of his coat up to fend off the chilled air whirling around them. He’d spent most of the day in his office finishing several projects he’d been ignoring while trying to build a foundation with Carissa. This was his last stop before heading over to pick her up for their evening.
“It’s not a bad location.” Garrick nodded and stepped out of the way of a small group of women walking past them. “I mean, it’s within walking distance of Michigan Avenue. The El and all the museums are pretty easy to get to from here. He picked a great spot, actually.”
“Yeah. I’ll agree with you there.” Jamison stuffed his hands into his pockets and watched as a young woman, no older than eighteen, struggled to manage a large overstuffed bag and a baby bundled in blankets as she walked up the steps to the unnamed building.
Club Dark Lace: Complete Dark Lace Series Page 16
