A Night Of Mercy

by Messer Stone

  “Okay. Should I get you a drink?”

  She waves a hand at him. “Yes. Fine.”

  “Wine? Or would you prefer a cocktail?”

  “Whatever is fine.”

  “Gonna have to help me out here, babe,” he says on a laugh. “Do you want a merlot? Will that pair okay with dinner? Because I can—”

  “Just surprise me, okay?” Lorelai says through her teeth, clearly irritated.

  Spencer frowns. “Okay, but—”

  “She wants a gin and tonic,” Boyd interjects, not taking his eyes off Lorelai. “Hendrick’s, if they have it.”

  Clearly thrilled to finally have a clear direction, Spencer scurries off. Once he’s gone, a heavy silence descends over the four of us. Boyd and Lorelai continue to glare at each other and pretty soon I start to wonder if they’re about to tear at one another’s clothes and go at it on the floor.

  In the end, Lorelai cracks first. Tearing her eyes away from Boyd she takes a deep breath and turns back to Parker. “Dad’s looking for you.”

  “I’ll find him later.”

  After a brisk nod she turns and walks away without another word.

  Boyd drags a hand over his face. “I’ve got to get some air. I’ll see you in a bit.”

  He stalks off and I turn a questioning glance up at Parker. “What’s the story there?”

  “Don’t know.” He shakes his head. “Don’t want to know. C’mon let’s go sit down.”

  As we walk to our seats he puts an unfamiliar distance between us that makes me feel a little cold. He sits beside me at our table but somehow he feels a thousand miles away from me.

  Throughout the three-course meal, it’s as though I’m not there. He chats endlessly with our table mates about everything from sports to politics. When he does speak to me, it’s always with a bizarre edge of formality.

  I’m not used to him being like this with me. Usually when we’re together, I’m the sole focus of his attention. He makes me feel wanted and cherished. Tonight he’s making me feel like a piece of furniture. Stupid, silly tears prick at my eyes and I realize I’m on the verge of pouting like a spoiled child.

  When the desert plates are cleared away, I march myself straight to the bathroom with every intention of getting my head back on straight. I’m being foolish. Of course he can’t treat me like he normally does. An important CEO openly flirting with his nineteen-year-old intern at his family’s charity gala would not be a good look.

  And while he’s never been quite so distant, this is pretty similar to how he treats me in the office whenever we’re not alone. I’ve never minded it before. Why is it bothering me now?

  I pass along the edge of the dance floor and spot a couple pressed close together and swaying slowly. His hand is low on her back as she gazes up at him with hearts in her eyes. They’re wrapped up in one another and just looking at them makes my chest hurt.

  Finding the bathroom empty, I slip into a stall and take a couple of steadying breaths. As I’m giving myself a pep talk, the clacking of heels against marble floors echoes across the room followed by the tin of unfamiliar voices.

  I listen as they primp and touch up makeup, making idle chit chat and gossiping about people I don’t know. I’m just about to slip back out of my stall when one of them says something that freezes me in place.

  “So I hear Parker Callahan might finally be ready to pop the question.”

  “Oh, for sure. Blair’s mom is practically picking out china patterns. I bet he proposes before Christmas.”

  A few minutes later, they walk away laughing as though they haven’t just punched me right in the gut. My breath comes short as nausea rolls through me like a wave.

  They’re wrong, I tell myself. There’s nothing going on between Parker and Blair. She’s just an old classmate of Lorelai’s. He said so…. right before he spent half an hour with her alone in his office.

  I go to the sink and wash my hands with cold water, staring at my reflection in the mirror. The pain and jealousy is plain in the blue of my eyes and I force myself to push it down.

  This is Parker. The man who saved me when I was drowning and never expected a thank you. The man who made Sophie laugh and taught Jason how to put on a tie. We’re not a serious thing and I know that. I know last night was most likely a one-time thing. But still, Parker wouldn’t have slept with me if he was about to get engaged to another woman. He would never hurt me like that.

  With a decisive nod, I swipe at the smudged edges of my eye makeup and tuck a few brown strands of hair behind my ear. When I return to the ballroom, I make a beeline back to my seat, only to find it occupied. By Blair.

  Her strawberry blonde waves are swept across one shoulder and her pale green eyes are gazing at Parker adoringly as they sit close together. The image is so intimate it ties my stomach up in knots. Her hand is resting on his thigh and while he’s not holding it there, he’s not pushing it away either. They remind me of that couple I saw on the dance floor.

  A thunderstorm of emotion hits me all at once and for a minute I struggle to breathe through the anger, heartbreak and shame.

  We were only together once. There was no real expectation for more on my end. But he gave me the most beautiful night of my life. A night where I gave a part of myself to a man I trusted. To a man who cared for me. And now it’s tainted. I’d thought we’d shared something special. Something deeply intimate and raw. But maybe I was just a distraction for him.

  A young man about my age approaches me with a cocky swagger. His eyes are heavily glazed over and his tie is undone, draped over his disheveled shirt collar. “Well hell-o, gorgeous.”

  I fight the urge to wrinkle my nose at the boozy smell of his breath. “Hi.”

  “You look awful lonely.” He winks at me. “Why don’t you come dance with me.”

  My first instinct is to politely decline. But then I cut a glance back at Parker. Blair is turned away from him now, talking to someone else at the table. He’s staring at me, his expression unreadable.

  I turn back to my drunken suitor. “What’s your name?”

  “Sebastian.” He puts a hand to his mouth, stifling a belch. “What’s yours?”

  “I’m Mercy.” I give him my hand. “And I’d love to dance.”

  It doesn’t take long for me to question my judgement. Seeing Parker with Blair had stung, yes, but was that a good reason to subject myself to a round on the dance floor getting pawed at by a sloppy trust fund baby?

  Sebastian leads me into the crowd of people and pulls me close against him. Within a minute, his hands start to roam, sliding further and further down my back. When he grazes the curve of my ass at the end of the song, I begin to pull away.

  “Thanks for the dance, but I think I’m—”

  “Oh, c’mon,” he slurs, pulling me closer. “We’re having fun aren’t we?”

  This time he reaches behind me and takes a firm handful of flesh.

  “O-kay.” I pointedly push against his chest. “I need to go.”

  His arms wrap tighter around me. “Don’t be like that babe. Just relax.”

  Before I can respond, two men in dark suits with wireless microphones in their ears swoop in through the sea of people and drag Sebastian away. I stare after them, listening to his drunken protests until a firm hand wraps around my wrist and drags me away.

  Parker doesn’t look at me or speak to me as he marches me across the room. I feel a strong urge to jerk free of his grip on me, to scream, to do something, anything, to get rid of the ball of lead in my gut.

  We tear out of the ballroom and he leads me down the hall, pulling me into a darkened, empty meeting room.

  The second the door is shut, I’m pressed back against it and Parker is staring down at me, leaning forward with hands braced on either side of my head, looking ready to start a fight. And to my surprise, I’m more than ready to give him one.

  “What the hell was that?” he grits out.

  “What?” I shrug and do my best to
look bored. “He asked me to dance.”

  “He put his hands on you.” The words come out on a growl and I visibly shiver.

  “Yeah. So?” I challenge, breathlessly.

  He closes his eyes and I watch in fascination as the muscles of his jaw flex and tighten. “I was watching the entire time. He tried to grope you. I know he made you uncomfortable. Please don’t make light of it.”

  Guilt slices through me and I’m almost contrite. Then I remember how he looked sitting with Blair, his alleged soon-to-be fiancé, and anger surges up inside me so fast I feel dizzy.

  With two hands in the center of his chest, I give him a hard push, watching as he stumbles back a bit. “Shouldn’t you be getting back to Blair?”

  His face screws up in confusion. “Huh?”

  “You two looked pretty cozy just now,” I say, hating the bitterness in my voice.

  He groans, running a hand over his face. “So that’s what this is about? I have a short conversation with an old friend and you let some drunk jackass molest you in public?”

  I feel like a silly little girl being lectured, even more so when tears spring to my eyes.

  “Forget it,” I choke out, turning to open the door.

  He stops me and gently eases me back. “Mercy, talk to me. You’re not acting like yourself.”

  The kindness and genuine concern in his voice makes me want to cry even harder. And then the anger swells up again because he’s tying me up in knots so tight I can barely breathe and it’s not fair because he barely seems affected at all.

  “Are you and Blair together?”

  “What? No!” he says, looking outraged. “Do you really think I would sleep with you if that were true?”

  “I don’t know what to think. I just know that after being ignored by you most of the night, I went to the bathroom and overheard two women talking like it’s common knowledge that you and Blair are ten minutes from walking down the aisle. And then when I come back she’s sitting with you—”

  “Hold up.” He runs a hand through his hair. “What were women saying in the bathroom?”

  “That you and Blair will be engaged by Christmas,” I spit out. “Why would they think that if there isn’t something going on with you two?”

  Face paling considerably, he steps closer to me. “Okay, look. Blair and I used to date. On and off for a year or so after college. But it was never serious. My parents and her parents are tight, so they’ve always been pushing us in the marriage direction. But Mercy, baby.” He takes my face in his hands. “That’s not happening.”

  But it would happen someday. Maybe not with Blair, but definitely not with me. This is the first time I’ve directly confronted the reality that someday, Parker’s life won’t include me. I picture him with a faceless woman at his side. I think about him kissing her, holding her hand, sleeping beside her at night.

  Just the idea makes me feel sick. And that’s when I realize I’m so, monumentally screwed. If I let things continue, my feelings for Parker will destroy me. I have to get out before it’s too late. If it isn’t too late already.

  “I think I should go.”

  “Mercy—”

  “I can’t do this anymore,” I say, swallowing back the panic as I shake my head. “This— us, whatever we are, it’s over. It has to be.”

  Something in him snaps. Snarling, he grabs my face and crushes his mouth against mine. The fire that courses through me is unlike anything I’ve ever felt. It’s hot with anger, hurt and wanting fierce enough to burn me alive.

  I want to tear him apart, to scratch his golden skin and mark him as mine. I want to run back into that ballroom and scream at the top of my lungs. I want to tell them I’m tired of losing people, that I’m tired of being left behind. I want to beg them to just let me have him.

  They have everything and they can keep it all. Just let me keep Parker.

  I’m feeling so much, and it fills me up fast, taking up all the space inside me until I have no choice but to let it out.

  Wrenching my mouth away from his, I break the kiss and shove hard at his chest. When he steps back towards me, I slap him hard across the face. He barely even flinches, desire blooming in his eyes so fierce I have to press my thighs together.

  He comes for me again and when I reach up to slap him, he grabs my hand and raises it over my head, pinning it against the door. Without breaking eye contact, he reaches down and wrestles my other hand over my head so that I’m trapped and powerless against him. Dropping his head, he sinks his teeth into the curve of my neck and I groan.

  “How can you just say that, huh?” His mouth his at my ear, his tongue searching as I squirm. “Just the thought of not touching you makes me want to die. How can you be so ready to end this and walk away?”

  “I’m not,” I gasp. “I just— I thought— oh!”

  He releases my hands and takes a firm grip of my ass, lifting me up. My legs wrap around him and then his hips start working against me. Within moments I’m a mess. I’m so desperate for him I want to scream.

  “Please,” I sob. “Please.”

  “Please what?”

  “Kiss me. Touch me. God, anything. Just— please .”

  Parker closes his teeth on the round of my chin. “Tell me this isn’t over.”

  “It’s not,” I pant. “It’s not over.”

  His mouth takes mine then, and the heat between us strips me raw. His tongue forces itself between my lips, stroking and searching, drawing a deep, guttural moan out from deep in my belly.

  Parker is frantic, aggressive, desperate, and I respond in kind. I growl as I grab at his jacket He uses the pressure of his hips to pin me up, holding out his arms as I wrestle the jacket off his shoulders. Then his elbows are hooked under my knees as I claw at his stomach, jerking his shirt up with a violent tug before I tear at his belt.

  “You need to be fucked, sweet girl?” he breathes into my mouth. “You need me to prove how crazy I am about you? You need me deep inside you? Is that it?”

  “Yes,” I beg. “Yes, please.”

  A loud knock on the door I’m currently pinned against stops us both cold. Parker curses under his breath.

  “Go away,” he says curtly, tucking his face into my neck and rolling his hips against me in a slow grind.

  “Parker? Is that you in there?”

  His entire body goes rigid as steel and he all but drops me to my feet, frantically righting his clothes. “Uh, yeah. Hang on.”

  He drags me a few feet away from the door and shrugs his jacket back on. “Just follow my lead, okay? Try not to say anything unless you have to.”

  “What—”

  “Ssh,” he hushes, brushing at my hair with his fingers. He wipes my lipstick off his mouth with the back of his hand as he urges me toward the door.

  He opens it and we step out into the hall, where I find myself face to face with Silas Callahan.

  CHAPTER 20

  Parker

  To understand my father, you have to know his story.

  He was born into a poor family in Donegal, Ireland in 1949. When he was seven years old, his father and two older brothers were killed in a factory explosion. A year later, he immigrated with his mother to New York where they rented a one-bedroom apartment in Brooklyn, living solely off of her meager income as a seamstress until he was old enough to get a job.

  Silas Callahan quite literally came from nothing. But somehow he managed to claw his way into a Columbia business degree before going on to form one of the world’s preeminent business conglomerates. So, what does that tell you about him?

  He’s intelligent, ruthless, and incredibly loyal when it comes to his family. When it comes to strangers, however, he’s the epitome of suspicion.

  It’s also worth noting that my father’s first wife left him after two years of marriage, taking most of his first million with her. Since I hit puberty he’s been telling me how women will come after me for my money. Now that he’s seen me coming out of a dark, empty room w
ith a young girl he doesn’t recognize I can all but hear his wheels spinning. If he were to find out the circumstances under which I met Mercy, he’d go absolutely ballistic.

  “Hey, Dad,” I say, walking over to him. “What’s up?”

  He looks past me, and I can see the questions growing in his eyes as he looks at Mercy. “Heard there was a bit of a scuffle on the dance floor. Is everything alright?”

  “Yes. Everything’s fine.” I turn slightly toward Mercy. “Dad, allow me to introduce my intern, Mercy Chase.”

  Without missing a beat, she offers him a beaming smile that would disarm any man with a pulse. And my father doesn’t seem to be immune. Even he can’t suspect someone like Mercy of nefarious intentions.

  The way she carries herself, all wide-eyed innocence mixed with quiet strength. Like it would never even occur to her to cheat someone and even if it did, she wouldn’t need to. She’s strong enough to survive on her own terms.

  “It’s nice to finally meet you, Mr. Callahan.”

  The hard lines of his mouth soften a bit as they shake hands. “You as well, young lady.” He looks at me. “Care to explain what happened?”

  “Sebastian Hale had a bit too much to drink. He asked Mercy for a dance and unfortunately got rather aggressive.”

  My father’s eyebrows furrow. “I see. Did you handle it?”

  “I did. Security escorted him out.” I nod at the closed door behind us. “I was just giving Mercy a minute to collect herself. She was a bit shaken up.”

  Sympathy flashes briefly in his eyes. “Of course. Are you alright?”

  “Yes, much better now,” she says.

  “Well, in any case, I’ll have a talk with Sebastian’s parents. You can expect a written apology by Monday at the latest.” He clears his throat and nods at me. “Would you mind giving us a moment?”

  “Of course,” she says. “I’ll-um-I’ll just be at the table.”

  “Go find Lorelai,” I say, not liking the idea of her sitting alone. “She’ll hang out with you until I get back.”

  Once she’s gone, my dad looks at me through narrowed eyes. “How does she know your sister?”