“I’ll help serve,” Sydney volunteered.
“Sit down, you’re making me nervous,” Ian said. “Tell me you brought booze, because Dad decided to open up a pinot gris, and you know how I feel about white wine.”
“Ian thinks it’s a girl’s drink,” Beau explained after a moment of silence. “But he obviously hasn’t matured his taste buds enough to enjoy it.”
“Matured my taste buds,” Ian mocked. “Like you’re a bloody sommelier.”
“You don’t have to be a sommelier to know that—”
“Would you listen to them?” Arthur said as Parker took a seat, leaving a space between him and his father.
It was petty to put Sydney between them, but Lord knew he needed a buffer. This wasn’t just out of his comfort zone. It felt like he’d crash-landed onto a whole new planet.
“They’re like Tweedledee and Tweedledum,” Arthur added.
Beau cradled his wine. “How are you finding the new position, Parker? Is being CEO all it’s cracked up to be?”
“Are you kidding?” Ian laughed. “He was born to be CEO.”
“It’s going well.” Parker wasn’t about to let on the rough week he’d had—show no weakness, that was his motto for the night. “Obviously, there are plenty of things I think we can be doing better, but it’ll take time before I start implementing new processes and strategies.”
An awkward silence settled down on the table, and Beau’s eyes shifted to Arthur for a moment. Parker may as well have come out and said it—he thought his father had been a poor CEO, and he intended to do better.
Which was the truth.
“I would expect nothing less,” Arthur replied, reaching for his wine. “The board didn’t put you in that role because you were my son, they did it because you’re the right person to take over the company.”
The compliment sat uncomfortably in his chest. It was funny how he’d strived his entire childhood to be spoken to in that way, begging for scraps of love and affection from his father like a street dog begging for food. Desperate, starving. Powerless. And now Parker held the power, because keeping Arthur at a distance meant that the old man wouldn’t be able to hurt him again.
“Yes, a far better choice than the playboy or the illegitimate son,” Beau said with a wink, although the hard-edged tone of his voice told Parker that it wasn’t entirely a joke.
“You can have it,” Ian said. “Far too much responsibility for me, anyway. Besides, I’m more interested in the woman you’ve been seeing.”
“Syd spilled the beans,” Beau said. “Can’t trust her with gossip.”
Parker leaned forward and reached for the wine, pouring himself a generous glass. “There isn’t anyone.”
“What happened to that girl from the Tan?” Ian probed. When Parker shrugged, he laughed. “Maybe you can give me her number, then?”
“She’s not your type,” Parker said through gritted teeth. He knew Ian was pushing his buttons, but the thought of them together messed with his head.
“She’s female, right?” Beau said with a laugh. “Isn’t that your only criteria, Ian?”
“I’m way more discerning than you give me credit for. I simply happen to enjoy variety.”
Parker rolled his eyes. “So we’re clear, you’re not getting her number.”
“I’m getting a strong protective vibe,” Ian teased. He stretched his arms above his head. “Which is most unusual.”
Normally the teasing didn’t get to him so much, but tonight he was wound more tightly than usual. He wanted to be anywhere else but here. “That’s none of your business.”
“It’s good that you’ve found someone that makes you feel so strongly,” Arthur said. “Work can’t be your whole life.”
Too bad Arthur couldn’t get back all those years when he’d left his young kids and his wife to eat dinner by themselves, when he’d spent what precious free time he did have with his secret family.
Parker put the wineglass down, fearing that he might snap the stem in half. “Did I not just say that there isn’t anyone in my life?”
“Yeah right,” Ian snorted. “You never get your panties in a bunch about a girl. Why are you hiding her? You should have brought her around tonight.”
“Oh yeah, that would be a great way to introduce someone to the family,” Beau said, rolling his eyes. “Not like this scenario isn’t awkward as fuck.”
You could have heard a pin drop. Parker didn’t dare look at Arthur, but he caught a glimpse of Ian’s raised eyebrow across the table. Before he could think of anything to say in response, Sydney came out of the house carrying trays of prawn skewers, veggies, and more drinks.
“Parker’s denying that he’s seeing someone,” Ian said.
“Can we drop it? Jesus,” Parker muttered. “You need to get something in your own life to be excited about?”
“What about that blond girl from the office? The one from the café.” Sydney cocked her head.
“We’re friends,” Parker replied, draining his drink and reaching immediately for a top-up. Alcohol was going to be the only thing that got him through the night. Fuck it, he’d get a taxi home.
“The CEO doesn’t befriend employees.” Beau shook his head. “His job is to rule with an iron fist.”
“This isn’t Game of Thrones,” Parker muttered.
“That was an iron throne, not an iron fist.” Sydney handed out dinner rolls, playing the perfect hostess. “Besides, there’s nothing to be ashamed of.”
“Enough.” Arthur stood and the group fell instantly silent. It appeared that retirement hadn’t caused him to lose his commanding presence. “You’re making our guest feel uncomfortable, and I won’t have it. Irene and I are happy that Parker was able to make it tonight. Let’s not turn a nice family dinner into a circus.”
Parker raised a brow. For once his father had called him Parker instead of Edward.
With his siblings effectively scolded, the topic of his love life was off the table as everyone took their seats. By the time dinner had been eaten, his shoulders had finally relaxed. He joked with Ian about the ridiculously expensive classic car he was tracking down for a customer, and Sydney had them all in stitches with a funny tale about a miscommunication with one of their overseas suppliers which had resulted in an order for some particularly hideous faux-fur underwear.
“See, it’s not so bad,” Sydney said quietly as she leaned into him for a moment while all the attention was on Beau. “You do belong here.”
“This doesn’t change how I feel.”
Except that it did…kind of. He’d missed his siblings. They might poke and prod him, but they did so out of love. Even Ian’s incessant teasing was reserved for people he cared about. And while he didn’t know Beau that well, there was a part of him deep down that wanted to correct that. They were brothers, despite the differences in how they’d grown up.
He still wasn’t ready to forgive his father. Or Irene.
But perhaps he didn’t have to cut them out completely. He looked down toward the end of the table where Irene was standing behind his father, her arms wrapped around his shoulders and her cheek resting against his silver hair. Arthur Wentworth had never looked so content.
He’d certainly never shown so much love toward Parker’s mother, at least not in public. Not in private, either, he suspected.
“Parker, would you be able to give me a hand with serving dessert?” Irene looked at him with a hopeful expression, and Sydney kicked him under the table when he hesitated.
“Of course.”
He followed her into the kitchen. She was barefoot, a few dark curls escaping from her ponytail, and her dress was flowing and boldly patterned. She had a free-spirit vibe about her. Not at all the kind of woman he’d expected his father to end up with.
“We really appreciate you coming tonight,” she said, plucking a knife from a wooden block on the kitchen counter and slicing into a delicious-looking carrot cake. The blade hit the cake stand with a soft
clink. “I know this situation must be uncomfortable for you, and I wanted to…say sorry.”
“For what?” He focused on the cake instead of her, but the soft warmth of her voice worked at the ice around his heart.
“For disrespecting your mother…and you kids. I knew what we were doing was wrong at the time, and I take full responsibility for that.” She sliced again and again. Clink, clink, clink until the cake was cut into eight perfect slices. The silence stretched, but Parker didn’t know what to say. “I know you probably hate me for what happened, but I do love your father. Very much.”
“Love isn’t an excuse.”
“I know, and I’m not trying to make it one. I also don’t expect your forgiveness.”
He looked up. “You don’t?”
“I don’t know if I would forgive me if I was in your shoes, to be honest.” Her lips twisted into a sad smile. “It was a hurtful thing that we did, and I won’t say otherwise.”
“Well…I appreciate it.” For once it felt good not to have someone attacking him for his views, but he certainly hadn’t expected it from Irene.
How could you? It wasn’t like you gave her a chance.
“I know Arthur came to visit you last week.” She slid the knife under a slice of cake and lifted the perfect wedge of crumbly decadence and cream-cheese icing onto a plate. “I told him not to go, but he seems to think he can convince anyone to do what he wants.”
Sound like anyone else you know?
Parker cleared his throat. “Yeah, he has a habit of that.”
“I tried to walk away when I found out I was pregnant with Beau,” she said. “I was so ashamed of what I’d done, of what I would now be inflicting on my baby. I tried to keep it a secret, but your father found out…it’s been hard for Beau.”
A lump lodged itself in his throat. “I bet.”
“He was the son of a wealthy man who couldn’t be seen with him. He was a scandal in the newspapers.” Her eyes shimmered with tears. “I regret that every day. I regret what we did to him, what we did to you and Ian and Syd. I would have understood if you never wanted anything to do with us.”
“I still don’t know if I do.”
Silence.
“Well, that’s your choice.” Irene placed a hand on his arm for a moment. “I won’t hold it against you if you decide not to come back. But I’m grateful we got to have this conversation.”
“Me, too,” he said. To his surprise, it didn’t feel insincere.
She gathered two plates in her hand and left him standing there, trying to sift through the thoughts in his head.
“Thanks for coming tonight,” Sydney said as they sipped coffees at the table. Arthur, Ian, and Beau had gone around the front to look at Ian’s new car, and Irene had taken a phone call inside. “You have no idea what it means to me.”
“I may have some idea.”
The air in the yard was still and quiet, and a cool breeze brushed over his skin. A vague memory flittered through him—late nights spent on the porch of their old house, playing cards while moths flittered around the lights. Sydney screeching triumphantly when she won—joyfully naive that Parker had been switching her cards out when she wasn’t looking.
That only lasted a few years before she beat him for real.
“So why are you trying to hide the girlfriend, huh? Is it because of the work situation?” Sydney cradled a mug between her hands and blew at the steam. “I get that, and I promise I won’t say anything to anyone. It’ll be our little secret.”
He stared out into the night. “I’m not hiding it, Syd. It’s over.”
“Why?”
“I don’t want to talk about it, okay?” He rubbed a hand along his jaw and felt the unfamiliar scratch of stubble. He needed to clean himself up before work tomorrow.
“But I might be able to help.”
He couldn’t stop the snort the escaped him. “Sorry, Syd, but what the hell do you know about love? And I’m not talking about Chanel handbags here, either.”
A shadow fell over Sydney’s face. “I got married.”
Parker blinked, gob smacked. “Excuse me?”
“Well, technically I’m still married…but no one knows that bit. They thought I had it annulled. It’s my dirty little secret.” She sighed. “I was furious when you left for Boston. I blamed Dad for ruining our family and driving you away. So I acted out.”
“By getting married?” He shook his head. “What the hell were you thinking?”
“I wanted to make Dad pay. I knew he would hate it.” She laughed. “God, I was a spoiled brat. But this guy…he was perfectly imperfect. He played poker, professionally. He was a fast guy—fast cars, fast cash…fast women. Which I guess includes me.”
“Jesus, Syd.”
“I know. But I’m fine so long as I don’t ever get married.” She sipped her drink. “No one will ever know. Don’t you dare say anything.”
He tried to wrap his head around the fact that his sister was married to someone she didn’t even see anymore. Between that, his reluctance to open up to anyone, and Ian’s commitment issues, it seemed Arthur had screwed them all over in the end. “Can’t you ask for a divorce?”
“Don’t you think I’ve tried that? I’m not an idiot. I mailed the papers to him, but he sent them back in itty bitty pieces.”
Parker cocked his head. “Why are you telling me all this?”
“I guess I wanted you to know I was upset about what happened, too. I know you think I wanted to play happy families the second you got home, but I was angry after it all happened.” She reached out and grabbed his hand. “I understand why you needed to go away.”
“I didn’t want to leave you and Ian,” he said. “But I couldn’t be here. I needed space.”
“Ten thousand miles worth?” She raised a brow.
“Yeah. I needed every fucking inch.” He squeezed her hand. “I wish you’d told me about getting married.”
“It wasn’t exactly planned far in advance,” she said with a hint of a smile. “And I thought you wouldn’t have approved.”
“I wouldn’t have.” He laughed. “Marriage was on my blacklist for a while.”
“And now?”
“I don’t know what to think anymore.” He tipped his face up to watch the small moths circling the light above them. If only he could turn back the clock and fix all his mistakes—or, at the very least, not have been such a stubborn bastard for so long. “I don’t have to make a decision now. It’s over between Emmaline and me because I’m an idiot.”
“Emmaline,” Sydney sounded out her name, and it was like a knife through his chest. “Pretty name.”
“Pretty woman.” He sighed. “Pretty fucking fantastic woman, actually. She’ll make someone else happy one day.”
Sydney frowned. “We make love a lot more complicated than it needs to be, don’t we? It’s a protective mechanism, but it causes a lot of pain. Like with Dad and Irene.”
“He should have come clean,” Parker said.
“Yeah.” She nodded. “If Dad had admitted to himself that he stopped loving Mum, we might never have been torn apart the way we were.”
Parker stared into his coffee, as if he might find answers there. Had he intentionally done something to push Emmaline away because he was scared of getting hurt? Or was it because he knew that relationships weren’t all they were cracked up to be? They started off so well with all the romance and the rose-tinted glasses bullshit.
“Talk to her,” Sydney said. “You never know what she might say.”
“I’ll talk to her if you see a lawyer about your divorce.”
“Gee, I open up to you and you use it as a bargaining chip,” she said with a huff. “That’s cold.”
Sydney’s hazel eyes twinkled as she sent a faux glare his way. Then she rested her head on his shoulder and snuggled into his side. Tonight, he’d taken a huge leap of faith by confronting his demons. The past wasn’t erased, and he still wasn’t sure he could let it go. But over
time the pain might ease. Seeing Irene and Arthur together had shifted his perspective a little, helped him to see that they were in love. That they’d made mistakes and done what they could to move on.
Why was it all so messy?
Emmaline had asked him once if he was ready to close the door on his family permanently. Coming here tonight told him he’d made the right choice. But that meant facing up to the fact that he’d been a complete idiot with Emmaline. He seemed to think it his lot in life to tell people what to do—as Ian had said, he was born to be CEO. But that didn’t mean he could hold the same control over people in his personal life.
“I am going to talk to her,” he said, more to himself than to Sydney.
This whole experience had taught him something: that control meant nothing if it drove people away.
Chapter Eighteen
Emmaline sat at a table in the Wooden Llama café, tucked away in a corner while Gracie ordered their coffees and pastries. Tomorrow she would have to walk back into the Wentworth Group head office and pretend like her life hadn’t been chewed up in a blender. For the first time since it happened, Emmaline was grateful Mark wasn’t going to be around. The big announcement for the ASTAR program was due to go out, and she couldn’t face the judgment right now.
“One giant latte”—Gracie placed a tray on the table—“and one giant blueberry Danish for my darling sister.”
“I need this like you would not understand.” She reached for her breakfast and inhaled deeply.
“You do remember I’m pregnant, right?” Gracie grinned and relieved her own coffee and pastry from the tray. “If there’s anyone who understands the insatiable need for food right now, it’s me.”
“How’s it all going?” She sipped her coffee.
“Oh no.” Gracie held up a finger. “We’re not here to talk about me, and you know it. Now, are you going to tell me why you look like someone kicked your puppy?”
“I don’t have a puppy,” Emmaline muttered.
Gracie gave her a look and took a bite out of her pastry. “Get your jokes out now, because we’re about to have a sister talk.”
Taken by the CEO (The Scandalous Wentworths) Page 17
