by Ember Dante
Nodding, she tightened her arms around me.
“I hated to hit you with this when you got home, but I didn’t want to wait. I’m not sure I could’ve gone to sleep otherwise.”
“Everything’s going to be okay. Why don’t you get your butt in bed and I’ll be there after I take a quick shower?”
She pulled away, an impish look on her face, and bit down on her bottom lip to stifle her smile. Her face was flushed, eyes and nose slightly pink from crying, but she had never looked more beautiful.
“Can I join you?”
“Uh, have I ever turned you down?” I laughed.
A crimson hue spread over her cheeks. “Well, no, but…”
“I don’t intend to start now.” I pressed my lips to the tip of her nose. “I also don’t want you to feel that sex is a requirement to keep me from being upset.”
She adjusted her position to straddle my lap. “I don’t. I want to have sex because I love you and I've missed you.”
“Then what the fuck are we waiting for?” I asked, lifting her as I stood.
“How the hell should I know? Take me to bed or lose me forever.” She giggled.
“Did you really just quote Top Gun? Seriously?” I laughed, quickening my pace toward the bathroom.
“Yep. What are you gonna do about it?”
“I’m gonna toss you in the shower and see if I can’t turn your frown upside down.”
And I proceeded to do just that.
I was going to be a father.
Emmy gave me the news two days ago, and I still couldn’t wrap my head around it. It should have scared the shit out of me, but instead, I was filled with nervous excitement and a determination to be a better father than the one I’d had. Our child would know exactly how important and loved he or she was.
My first impulse was to propose, but Emmy seemed overwhelmed, to say the least, and given her comments about Caitlin I was concerned she would think I felt pressured into it. So I thought it best to just go with the flow for a while. We had plenty of time to sort things out.
The phone on my desk rang about the same time the office door burst open, jerking my train of thought back to the present. Blaire stood in the doorway, a look of smug accomplishment stamped on her face. She wore a white, knee-length sleeveless dress that conformed to every curve and appeared to have the texture of an ace bandage. Her hair hung straight on either side of her face, the ends brushing just beneath her collarbones. A hot-pink clutch that matched her shoes was in one hand, and a large kraft envelope was in the other.
Troy appeared behind her, waving his hands and shaking his head. “Ian, I tried to warn you…”
“It’s fine. I got it.”
Smirking, Blaire turned and pushed Troy away before closing the door in his face.
“What can I do for you, Blaire?” I asked, my voice deliberately bland.
She sauntered toward me and rested one hip on the edge of my desk. The posture tightened the already stretched material even more, exposing a mile of her toned thighs.
“You wouldn’t return my calls, so I decided to come see you,” she purred.
I rolled my eyes and leaned back in my chair. “I quit, remember? I really don’t have anything else to say to you.”
“Now that’s not true. We have loads to discuss.”
“You know, I can’t think of a single thing.”
“You may change your mind when you see this.” Her glossy pink lips curved into a sly smile as she handed me the envelope she carried. “Finn is your favorite, yes?”
“What’s Finn go to do with this?” I demanded, jerking it away from her.
She smiled again, a bit wider, and tilted her head into the rise of her shoulder.
I slid a folder from the envelope and flipped it open. Realization settled in, and I could feel the blood drain from my face. Old newspaper articles and more recent black and white surveillance photos stared back at me, taunting me with the cold hard facts that Finn had been—and likely still was—involved with his college tennis coach.
“Where did you get this?” I growled.
Her smile widened at my distress. “I see I’ve finally gotten your attention.”
“Answer my fucking question. Where did you get this?”
“Oh, I have my sources, but that’s beside the point,” she said, waving a hand in my direction. “Something tells me that you don’t want this making a reappearance in the news, given how upsetting it would be for certain members of your family.”
“What do you want, Blaire?”
“Why you, silly.” She laughed. “My clients like you, and I like making money. I want you to come back to Release. I’d prefer to actually have you, of course, but I’ll make do with the extra business you attract.”
“And you thought bringing this here and showing it to me would change my mind about working for you?”
“Oh no, not at all.” Blaire lifted her hand and bit the tip of her index finger. I assumed it was meant as a seductive gesture, but it was more comical than anything. I might have laughed if not for the proof of Finn’s indiscretion scattered across my desk. “I just wanted to bring you a copy of what I’ll be sending to the media if you don’t. Of course, it makes no difference to me, but I’m not the one who almost committed suicide over a dead-end affair with my coach. I guess your brother was a really great fuck in order for Coach Johnson to risk everything on a twenty-year-old student.”
I stood and sent my chair crashing into the credenza. Intense rage consumed me, and my vision narrowed, the edges turning black. Before I realized it, my hand closed around her throat, and I pushed her backward until she was almost laying across the desk. Her fingers clawed at my hand, struggling to free herself.
“Are you sure you want to fuck with me, Blaire? I’m sick of your bullshit and your fucking threats. First Mason and now Finn? Why? I know it’s not just me or the money, so cut the shit.” My hand tightened, squeezing just a bit harder. “You’ve got thirty seconds to tell me what the fuck you want before I crush your goddamn windpipe. What the fuck do you really want?”
She stopped struggling and smiled. It was that damn Cheshire cat grin, the one that said she had a secret. The one that meant I wouldn’t like what she was about to say.
“You can stop our game any time you like. All you have to do is talk to your father. Ask him what this is all about,” she gasped.
My grip faltered. “What the fuck are you talking about? This isn’t a fucking game. What has my father got to do with this?”
Her fingers closed around mine to pry them loose. “You’ll have to ask him that question.” She glared at me and rubbed her neck. “In the meantime, I’ll see you Friday at Release. Be there at nine.”
Rocked by the possibility that all the shit with Blaire led back to my father, I stumbled backward into the credenza. Why did every bad thing in my life involve Connor in some way?
Blaire straightened her dress and fluffed her hair. “That’s the one and only time you’ll put your hands on me unless you’re going to fuck me.”
With that, she turned on her heel and strolled out of my office as if she didn’t have a care in the world. As if she hadn’t just threatened to reopen old wounds that barely healed the first time.
I couldn’t tell fact from fiction with Blaire. The clippings and photos scattered across my desk were real, proof of Finn’s affair with his former coach, and supposedly she had more information about Mason’s shit eleven years ago. What else did she know, and how? Most importantly, how was Connor involved?
There were too many questions and not enough answers, so I grabbed my cell and dialed Parker’s number. It rolled over to voicemail.
“Whatever you’re doing, do it faster. I need answers, man. Blaire just came to my fucking studio and threatened to dredge up Finn’s affair. Call me.”
I had a nagging feeling that things were about to get a hell of a lot worse, and all I could do was hope Parker would come through sooner rather than later.<
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I spent the rest of the day staring at the computer, trying to work but unable to focus on anything but Blaire.
Which was exactly what she wanted.
There was a strong temptation to call her bluff by not returning to Release, but I felt confident she would follow through on her threats. Mason’s past was one thing, but Finn’s … making him relive the scandal following his ill-fated affair would be devastating. I couldn’t do that to him. I wouldn’t.
All that was left was to tell Emmy, and I wasn’t looking forward to that conversation. As soon as I told her about Blaire’s visit, she jumped down my throat.
“Are you kidding me?” Emmy screamed.
“What am I supposed to do? Throw Finn to the wolves?”
“It’s always going to be something with her. She’s always going to find a way to keep you under her thumb.”
“She’s not lying about this. She gave me an envelope full of shit proving it. It will destroy Finn if this gets out again.”
“I’m sick to death of Blaire! Blaire, Blaire, Blaire. I thought we were past this,” she vented, her body vibrating with rage. “If I thought it would do any good, I’d tell you to go ahead and fuck her and be done with it.”
“Are you actually telling me to fuck that crazy bitch?”
“No, of course not,” she huffed. “But I’m tired of waiting on Parker. When the hell is he going to have some answers? He keeps putting you off.” She paused, hesitation written across her face. “Is he fucking Blaire? Is that why he doesn’t seem to be in any hurry to wrap this up?”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” I scowled at the accusation and propped my hands on my hips. “Parker’s damn good at his job, and he’s just being thorough.”
“So that’s it then? You’re going to give in and go back?”
“What else would you suggest?”
“Call her bluff like you did with Mason’s wreck. She never did anything with that.”
“Babe, one thing’s got nothing to do with the other. Finn’s situation is completely different.”
“I don’t know. Something’s not right. Your father wasn’t even here when that happened. I think she’s just using him to goad you into doing what she wants.”
She paled as soon as the words left her mouth. I had been so focused on the big picture I almost missed it.
“What did you say?”
“Uh…” She grimaced and ran a hand over her face. “Crap.”
I took a step backward and crossed my arms in front of my chest. “Em, you need to explain yourself.”
Her face twisted into a grimace. “I was curious about your father…”
“So you went behind my back and dug around? Is that it?”
“Yes, but it wasn’t like that.”
Anger gnawed at me, slowly chipping away at my composure. It wasn’t even about Emmy digging into Connor. I was just so fucking tired of everything—Connor, Blaire, always feeling like I had to be the strong one, the one to fix everything. “So how was it?”
“Ian—”
“No. Tell me. You went behind my back rather than just asking me.”
She nodded in defeat.
“It was the day after your baseball game. After you told me what happened.” Tears began to fill her eyes. “I was pissed off and couldn’t imagine what father would do something like that to his son.”
“I would have told you anything you wanted to know.”
“Really?” she asked, rolling her eyes. “I knew it was a sore subject—that he’s a sore subject.”
Ignoring her snarky comment, I uncrossed my arms and held them outstretched, palms facing up. “And what did you discover?”
“Not much. Everything that came up was about his career.” She paused. “Except for links to a piece about Mason’s accident and two articles about Finn and his coach.”
“And your extensive research led you to believe that you know everything about the man?”
“No,” she sighed.
“Emmy—” I cut myself off before I said something I couldn’t take back.
“I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to deceive you. I just thought it might be too painful for you to talk about.”
“Yeah,” I snorted with a slight shake of my head. “I’ve got some work to do in the studio. Don’t wait up.”
I held her gaze for another moment or two before I turned away and stormed out, slamming the door behind me.
The hours passed, and my anger with them. I managed to get through processing the images from the Bellville shoot, but I had to fight the constant urge to go across the hall and apologize to Emmy. Ultimately I decided it was best to wait. Hell, she was probably already asleep.
A faint click echoed through the studio, followed by tentative footsteps.
Then again, maybe she wasn’t.
I’d almost convinced myself that I had imagined the sound, until Emmy stopped in the open doorway, squinting against the warm glow of the lamp behind me. Most of her hair was piled on top of her head in a messy bun and several tresses hung down her back, creating the haphazard look I always found so damn sexy. Rather than her usual sleeping attire, she wore my tattered Boston Red Sox T-shirt. That, too, was damn sexy.
Although she appeared to have just woken up, there was an obvious tension in her stance. She rested one hand on the door frame, weight on one leg, the opposite foot curled around the back of her ankle. Her other hand worried at the frayed hem of the shirt.
“Hi,” she said.
“Hi.”
We stared at each other, both mute, neither quite sure how to proceed. There were several things I wanted to say, but I wasn’t sure where to begin. The silence lengthened between us until I finally swiveled my chair to the side and crooked my finger, beckoning her closer. She didn’t hesitate as she practically loped toward me to settle in my lap.
“I’m sorry,” we both said in unison.
My arms folded around her and pulled her close, reassuring us both that everything was okay.
“Why are you wearing this ratty thing?” I asked as my hands stroked the worn cotton.
“Because it’s soft and smells like you,” she murmured, nuzzling my ear.
“I like that,” I sighed, meaning both the sentiment and the affectionate gesture.
She curled into me, and we lapsed into silence again.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Of course,” I said, expecting her to rehash our earlier conversation.
“Why do you have two BoSox shirts mingling with the Rangers and Astros? That seems kinda random.”
I laughed, but the sound died quickly at the memory of what could have been.
“Several major league teams were scouting me in college. The Red Sox offered me a five million dollar signing bonus as their first-round pick. I never got the opportunity.” My fingers plucked the edge of her sleeve. “The T-shirts are just mementos of that time. I suppose keeping them is another way of torturing myself, but I can’t bear to part with them.”
“So you admit that Parker wasn’t exaggerating when he bragged about how good you were.” She poked me in the ribs. “Still are, actually.”
“Yeah, well, it doesn’t really matter, does it?”
Emmy sat upright and looked me in the eye. “Is that why you left Austin after Mason’s wreck?”
I had to admit, Emmy was good at extracting information. That’s what made her so good at her job.
“Mostly, I suppose,” I sighed. “UT yanked my scholarship. There was no guarantee I’d be able to play again, and if I could, they knew I wouldn’t be what I had been before. Not to mention the athletic director had concerns regarding the circumstances surrounding the accident. I transferred here to finish school, and Finn wanted to come with me. He was eighteen, so I was fine with it. Our father, not so much. He threatened to cut us off financially, and I let him know if he did, I’d tell Mom and the boys the truth about what happened.”
“You blackmailed your own father?”
>
“Fuck yes, I did. I’m not proud of it, but I figured it was the least he could do. It may not be right, but I wanted to hurt him, and the only way I could was through his bank account. He paid moving expenses, three years rent and utilities, any fees not covered by Finn’s scholarship, and all of my tuition—including my MBA. Personally, I think he got off easy.”
“So when did Finn get involved with his coach?”
“I’m not sure exactly when it started, but it lasted about six months, based on what little he’s told me. According to Finn, they fell in love, but the guy was married. When his wife found out about it, she went public. It was a pretty big scandal on campus, and around town. It reached all the way to Austin, and Finn was devastated, both over the end of the relationship and the publicity. Our father’s reaction didn’t help matters. Fuck, Finn didn’t come out until we moved here. I’d always known he was gay, but he never officially said anything until then.”
“Do you think Blaire wants to dredge it up to hurt your father, and Finn is just collateral damage?”
“I don’t know, but I can’t take that chance.” I drew in a breath and released it. “The dust finally settled, and I thought we’d be able to put it behind us. I was wrong. I came home from work one evening and found Finn in the tub, both wrists slashed. I’ll never get that image out of my head. The doctors said if I had been just ten minutes later…” Tears stung my eyes, and I choked on the memory.
“If that were to come out again, it would kill him. I cannot, and will not, allow that to happen—period. I’m not happy about it, but we’re gonna have to deal with it until Parker and I can resolve this mess.”
“I feel like a selfish asshole now.”
“Don’t.” My hand rested on her thigh. “I know it isn’t easy, but it won’t be much longer, I promise.” I leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Let’s go to Southlake this weekend.”
“How? You have to go to Release.”
I closed my eyes and prayed for patience. I didn’t blame Emmy for the way she felt, and I knew her hormones were jacked because of the pregnancy.
