His father was already pouring brandies when they walked into his office. For the men. For the women, he poured small glasses of sherry.
Carissa and Jade thanked him then took seats near the door.
Considering the way he treated women, it astounded Jamison the man had managed to obtain four wives, much less keep them for as long as he had.
“Here are updated projections now that we’ve wrangled a few of the property owners to agree to sell. We’re still in negotiations with them for the price, but they are willing to move out.”
“The shelter isn’t willing,” Carissa said from her seat behind Jamison. He pushed his chair toward the right, affording her a better view and giving his father an idea of where he himself stood on the topic. Having her stuffed into the background wasn’t working for him. She deserved a voice, and to be seen.
“The shelter will be willing. We just haven’t found the right price. Everyone has one.” Jamison’s chest tightened when his father spoke. He didn’t even look at Carissa when he did so.
“Carissa’s right. They aren’t going to sell, and I don’t think they should.” Jamison took the reports from his father and walked over to his desk to dump them.
“Oh, they will.”
“That shelter has been there for over fifty years. It’s a part of the community.” Carissa maintained her tone, but it was starting to waver.
“Isn’t there another location you could look at?” Jade added in, and Jamison noticed how she scooted toward the front of her chair and kept glancing at Carissa. His little girl had almost everyone in the room watching out for her, even if she didn’t know it.
“No. There isn’t.” Baron’s smile dropped, and his lips pinched together in a long, thin line. His patience was at an end.
“There needs to be.” Garrick entered the conversation.
“Don’t worry about the shelter. I have friends on the city council, and they have assured me that invoking eminent domain will not be a problem if they won’t sell.”
Carissa bounded from her chair. Jade tried to grab her but missed. Jamison managed to catch her when she moved to pass him. He didn’t shove her behind him, but rather laced his fingers through hers. She needed grounding at that moment.
“You corrupt—” She took a deep breath and looked up at Jamison. Tears were building in her beautiful eyes, but not from hurt. No, his little girl was fighting back every bit of her anger. For him. She held back, for Jamison’s benefit.
She took a deep breath. “You would force the shelter to close its doors by using your friends on the board to declare the city would benefit more from your hotel than them?”
“That shelter can do its work anywhere.” Baron shrugged.
“You can build your hotel anywhere!” Although she raised her voice slightly, she didn’t yell.
His father glowered. “Jamison. Seriously, let the girls have coffee in the library so we can talk about this reasonably.”
He wasn’t sure if anyone else heard it, but there was a bit of a snap somewhere. A sharp sound signaling an official break.
“No need. It’s time we left. We’ve wasted enough time already. Father, I have no intention of joining you on this project. I won’t force that shelter to close its doors. It benefits too many people. It actually makes the city a better place, makes those women’s lives better. I won’t be part of anything that destroys that. Your hotel will be profitable. It will bring in elite clientele, I have no doubt. You’ll have your name on the front page of the Tribune when it opens, but you have never, and will never do anything that makes this world, or hell—even this city—a better place.”
When he turned away from his slack-jawed father, he found Carissa staring up at him with wide eyes. Surprise, awe, a mixture of both? She recovered much more quickly than Baron. She turned with him, switching hands to continue holding his.
“I think Jamison summed that up nicely. Thank you for dinner, sir.” Garrick put his brandy down on the side table and took the few steps to collect Jade before opening the door and leading them all out.
“Y-you’ll be back!” Baron finally recovered enough to sputter the single sentence.
Jamison collected Carissa’s coat and helped her into it, taking extra care to button her up and even put on her gloves for her—no longer caring if anyone could see. Let them see. Let them gawk, but he was taking care of his girl.
“Well, that was different than I thought it would be,” Jade said as both couples reached their cars.
“He can still get enough investors, and he does have those friends he talked about.” Garrick shoved his hands into his gloves.
“I’ll deal with him if he does.”
“You won’t be able to stop him. I’ve seen men like him. I’ve seen him and what he’s done to communities.” The sadness in her voice tore at his heart. He bundled her up in his arms and kissed the top of her head, ignoring the chill of the February air.
“I will handle this. I don’t want you to worry about it.”
She looked up at him, uncertainty lingering. “Okay, Daddy,” she whispered and pushed her face back into his chest.
He’d never made a promise before that he wasn’t one hundred percent sure he could keep. But he’d never loved anyone with such ferocity before Carissa, and he’d move the Earth off its axis for her. And going up against his father could prove just as large a task.
Chapter 14
“So, how’s things with that large hunk of a man who picked you up last weekend?” Margaret grinned, displaying dimples on both sides of her cheeks.
Carissa had started her new shift at the hospital, and it had been a few days since she’d been able to make it to the shelter. She should have known Margaret would want to know all about Jamison.
“Things are going okay.” She downplayed the entirety of their relationship.
The truth? Everything was going perfectly. Too perfectly.
Jamison had slowly eased his way into her life, taking over parts of her world that she had never considered penetrable before. He wasn’t overbearing or too stubborn. He was strict, and hell, she liked that about him. She tried to put up a good front, but he saw through that right away. If he said she was getting a spanking, she got a spanking. There was no wiggle room, no backing out, no forgetting because he got busy. The man’s focus on her was uncanny.
He’d bought her a Keurig! After the second time he’d come over to her apartment to find coffee burning away in the carafe, he’d gone out and bought one for her along with a six-month supply of K-Cups because he knew she wouldn’t go out for more.
Groceries were delivered to her apartment. She filled her virtual cart and set the order, but he went in after and pulled out the garbage, replacing the items with more veggies. The first time he did it, she’d thrown a fit on the phone with him. But the sound belting she received that night for it taught her never to do that again. If Daddy said she had to have a green veggie with every meal, she was going to be eating a green veggie with every meal. But she still snuck in a box of HoHos before the cutoff time for the order.
Margaret laughed. “Okay? I saw the way his eyes devoured you. That man has it bad for you, I’d say okay passed a long time ago.”
“What do you mean?” Carissa followed Margaret down the hall to the clinic. Jamison’s stare was intense, there was no denying that, but that was his normal way of looking. Right?
“I mean that men who feel okay about a girl, don’t look at them the way he did you. He watched you like you were some goddess moving around, like you’d entranced him. And”—Margaret continued while unlocking the clinic door—“letting you stay to help Joyce? I mean, he didn’t let you stay, you would have anyway, but he insisted. He didn’t even give it a thought that it would make you two late for whatever you had going on. I’ve seen plenty of men come and go around here, annoyed their girlfriend or wife was putting volunteering in the way of their reservation at some hoity-toity restaurant or making them late for a meeting. He did
n’t give it a second thought. This was important to you, and that made it important to him.”
“You got all that from a few minutes with him?” Carissa tried to brush it off. Because it couldn’t be that deep. If it was that deep, if his feelings ran that hot for her, she’d start letting the idea of not calling it quits after the month was up seep in. And she’d been doing her damnedest to block that thought. Even if she stayed up late remembering how warm his lips were on her, and wishing he’d spent the night with her. Even while she missed her elevator stop at work the day before because she’d started daydreaming about him, she did not allow the thought of forever to enter her mind.
“No. I got that from the second he saw you walk out of that classroom. You better hold on, because I don’t think this one’s going to let you walk away.”
“I don’t walk away from men.” Carissa found herself getting a little more defensive.
“No, it’s more like a run, but not with him. Don’t get upset. It’s a good thing, and I know you’ve have a legitimate reason to get rid of all the rotten ones in the bunch. But this one isn’t rotten. That’s what I’m saying.”
“So, now he’s produce?”
Margaret laughed. “Joke all you want. Now, not to change the subject by changing the subject, but I wanted to tell you I’ve got some bad news about the offer to buy out the shelter.”
Carissa tensed. It was the one topic Jamison avoided after the night with his father. Jamison had promised he’d take care of it, and every time she tried to broach the subject, he firmly told her to drop it.
“They’re still pursuing it?” Carissa pulled an inventory list from the cabinet and busied herself with work. The clinic was technically closed, and the full-time nurse had gone home for the evening. It was Carissa’s job to be sure they were well stocked for the next day and see any emergencies that couldn’t wait until the clinic opened in the morning.
“It looks like the city is starting to get on their side. We got a letter discussing eminent domain.”
Carissa dropped the clipboard but quickly picked it back up. “How can a hotel be more important that this place?”
“We aren’t a government shelter. We’re private, so we aren’t as protected, and since the city has shelters, they don’t feel we’re necessary.”
“But those shelters are being strangled by all the red tape, lack of funds, and corruption that come along with the government funding.”
“I agree. That’s why my grandparents opened this place.” Margaret hopped up onto the exam table. “We’re getting a protest together, to fight against the city council. We’re hoping to get a few newspapers and TV stations to come to a rally, force the issue into the public eye.”
“That’s a great idea. Just tell me when and where.”
“Next Saturday afternoon. Three o’clock in front of Croft Enterprises.”
“Well, count me in!” Carissa turned back to the inventory. It was going to be a very interesting conversation with Jamison when he came over that evening. Though maybe not telling him would be better.
“Excellent. I knew we’d be able to count on you.”
“Of course. This place can’t disappear.”
Margaret hopped off the table. “It won’t.” Margaret squeezed her shoulder. “I’ll let you finish up. I’m sure your man will be looking forward to seeing you tonight.”
Carissa blushed at the suggestive tone in her voice and faced the cabinet.
Jamison was planning on coming to her apartment. He did most nights.
She would bring up the subject of the protest and gauge his reaction. Then she’d decide if she was going to tell him she intended to go.
As Carissa finished unboxing some newly arrived supplies, her phone rang. Without looking, she swiped to answer, figuring it was Jamison.
“Hey, Daddy.” She smiled into the receiver.
“Oh, um, I’m sorry. I was looking for Carissa McAllister?” An older woman’s voice came through the phone.
Carissa’s smile fell, and she stood up straighter, as though the woman could see through the cell phone.
“Hi, yes, this is her—I mean she. I’m Carissa.” Very suave.
“Oh, good. I was afraid I’d miss you again. This is Valerie Newton. We’ve been playing phone tag for a few days.”
The woman who had been friends with Jamison’s mother. Carissa sat on the rolling stool.
“Oh, yes, hi.” She did her best to sound calm, despite the rippling of her stomach. This woman could know where his mother was. She could have answers that his father had never bothered to give him.
“You were calling about Katrina Croft.”
“Yes. My d-uh, my boyfriend, Jamison Croft, is her son.”
There was a long stretched-out silence before she spoke again. “Does he know you’re trying to contact her?”
Carissa debated telling her a lie, afraid that she wouldn’t tell her anything if she knew the truth.
“No. It’s sort of a surprise.” She paused. “His father told him Mrs. Croft walked out on them, said she didn’t want to be a mother anymore. Or something along those lines. I’ve met Mr. Croft, and he seems like a man who cares more about winning than he does about his own son.”
A heavy sigh came through the phone. “You have that part right.” Another sigh. “Katrina never wanted to leave Jamison behind, but that man—that bastard—refused her any visitation. He made her sign away her parental rights. He was a controlling asshole when they were married. When she told him she wanted a divorce, it only got worse. I don’t know what he held over her, but whatever it was—it was enough to make her sign the papers. One day she was married and a mother, the next divorced and never allowed to see her son again.”
Carissa had already guessed something along those lines had to have happened. From what Jamison did tell her of his mother, there had been no signs that she wasn’t happy as a mom.
Her alarm on her phone beeped. She needed to head home if she was going to be ready when he came over for dinner. She was going to cook for him.
“Do you know where she is now? Have you kept in touch with her?”
Another dark silence stretched out. “No. I’m sorry. I haven’t spoken with her since she left town. She never gave a forwarding address. She only told me she was moving to Indiana; I think she had distant relatives there.”
Another dead end.
“Oh.” Carissa heaved a sigh. “Well, at least I can tell him this much. His mother didn’t simply abandon him.”
“No. It broke Katrina to walk away. I think that’s why she left Chicago. Please. Feel free to give Jamison my number. I’d love to talk with him, and maybe we can find her. I’ve worried about her over the years.” Sadness tinged her voice.
“I will. Thank you for calling back. I really do appreciate it.”
Baron Croft didn’t care whom he destroyed so long as he won. Well, he wasn’t going to win the shelter. Carissa would see to that.
* * *
She burnt the rice.
Carissa stared at the pot brimming with overcooked rice, much of which had burnt onto the bottom of the pot.
As she was getting ready to throw the whole pot into the trash, Jamison walked into the kitchen.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, pointing to the pot she now held over her head and aimed it at the trash can.
“I burned it. Again.” She lowered her arms. “I’m going to buy one of those damn rice cookers. I can’t do it the old-fashioned way and besides, we shouldn’t be eating rice anyway. Too many carbs.” She tossed the pot into the open garbage can and put her hands on her hips.
“Well, first, watch your language, that’s the only warning you’re getting tonight. You keep letting the curses slip and I’ve been too lenient.”
Too lenient? Which relationship was he watching?
“Second, we can skip the rice tonight. I’ll get you a rice cooker if you really want one, because I love rice, carbs or not.” He moved to her side and slid h
is hands around her waist, pulling her to him.
She inhaled the comforting scent of his aftershave and nestled into his neck. Nothing felt more like home than when she was in his arms.
His touch was enough to put her at ease. She froze with the realization.
“What was that?” He chuckled. “You got all tense.”
Of course, she had. Her damn brain just wouldn’t cooperate with her plan.
“Nothing.” She maneuvered her way out of his embrace and went to get the meatloaf from the oven. Potatoes would have gone better with the meal, but, like he said, he loved rice. And she enjoyed giving him what he loved.
“You know that surprise I told you about?” she asked him.
“Yeah?”
She placed the hot loaf pan on the table and gave him a quick glance over her shoulder. Should she maybe lead with the protest?
“Well?” He chuckled when she didn’t continue.
She dropped the oven mitts next to the meatloaf and turned to him, pressing her ass against the edge of the table. “After you told me about your mom, I did a little digging. Nothing dangerous,” she added quickly. “Just a Google search and a Facebook message.”
His smile fell a little at the corners. “Go on.”
“I didn’t find her exactly, but I was able to get a hold of Valerie Newton. Do you remember her? She was a friend of your mother’s.”
“Newton?” His brow wrinkled. “The name sounds familiar, but my father does a lot of business with a lot of people. What did this lady have to say?” She noticed his knuckles whiten as he gripped the counter behind him, leaning back against it attempting to look casual, but she knew it had to be bringing up some emotions for him. Some unresolved hope or anger.
“Not much, really. Just that she hadn’t seen your mother since she left Chicago. She went to Indiana, but—” Carissa weighed her next words. “She did say that your mother didn’t want to leave you. She thinks your father held something over her, had something to use against her in order to make her sign away her parental rights.”
Until Daddy: Dark Lace Series Page 14
