The Terms Duet

by Rowe, Ruby

  “I want to send home a cartoon activity kit with their food that would be informative but also fun for them so they might absorb the information.

  “Did you know there are children who’ve never seen or tried common fruits and vegetables? You can show them an orange, and they honestly have no clue what it is. That’s mind-boggling and sad to me.

  “So, each kit would focus on a cartoon character of a specific food and would give facts about it. I’d include fun things like jokes, a coloring page and puzzles for them to do. Liam–I mean, a little boy, helped me come up with the cute cartoon characters.”

  “The boy’s name is Liam,” Ellis says.

  I grab his shoulder. “Ellis, no, not now.”

  He turns to me. “Yes, now. He’s not something to hide. Not ever. He’s a Burke, and they need to know it.”

  “What are we missing here?” Lawrence asks.

  I might die right now.

  “I have an announcement.” Ellis clasps my hand again on the table.

  “Holy shit, you never listen,” Greyson exclaims before he scratches the back of his head.

  “Camilla and I have a child together. His name is Liam, and he’ll turn four this summer.”

  Mouths fall open around the table.

  “What the fuck?” Christopher asks. Ellis shoots him a glare.

  “Liam is mine,” he says, and the underlying threat for Christopher to keep his mouth shut isn’t mistaken by either of us.

  “Whatever. I need some fresh air,” Chris replies before he storms off.

  “Well, I’ll be damned,” Ron says before bursting into laughter.

  James grits his teeth. “What are you doing, Ellis? You know this event is not the time or place for such nonsense.”

  “It’s not nonsense. Camilla and I shared a night together and then lost touch with one another. We only realized recently that Liam is mine, so we’re together now, and they’re both living with me.”

  I steal a peek at Estella. She’s covering her chest, and I’m praying she doesn’t have a heart attack. There’s snickering from across the table, and Lawrence is failing at hiding his grin.

  He’s a Burke through and through. He has the same stark blue eyes, and like his father and uncle, he’s tall. Greyson is a tad shorter, maybe taking after his mother. Lord, I wish Estella would say something.

  “I have a grandchild?” she asks, dabbing at the sweat on her forehead. Please don’t stroke out.

  “Yes, Mother, you have a grandson, and he’s smart, inquisitive, and well-behaved. He looks just like us. Oh, and he has our odd sense of humor, too. The kid’s a riot sometimes.”

  My heart melts from Ellis’s grin, the pride shining around him like a yellow aura of excitement and warmth. It’s as if he truly believes Liam is his own.

  “This is unreal,” Estella says before she grabs her glass of champagne.

  “I swear, Ellis”–James scowls and points–“if you weren’t too old for it, I’d lay you over my knee for choosing this time and place to tell us this news.”

  “Wow, this is wonderful,” Aspen says, attempting to lighten the mood. “I’m happy for you guys.”

  Lawrence smirks. “Ditto.”

  “What a night. I’m a great-uncle,” Ron declares with his glass held high.

  “Don’t make this about you, Ronald.” Mary Ann gives him a sideways glance.

  “I’m proud is all. Now, someone show me a damn picture of him.” I begin fumbling with the clasp on my purse, but Ellis pulls out his phone, beating me to it.

  “You have photos of him?” I ask quietly.

  “Of course, and I think my parents should see them first.” Ellis hands the phone over to Estella, and she begins to weep.

  “He’s so precious and is most definitely a Burke.” Sniffling, she regains her composure. “He has your hair and eyes, Ellis. This is such a blessing, especially after the loss this family has suffered. Tony would’ve been thrilled.”

  Hmph, if she only knew.

  Turning to me, she pushes back her shoulders and lifts her chin.

  “Why would you wait so long to tell Ellis he has a child?”

  “It’s complicated, Mother, and is not Camilla’s fault. That’s all I’ll say about the subject. She’s an astounding mother, and I’m grateful to finally have them both in my life.”

  Relaxing her body, Estella passes the phone to James.

  “Did you hear that, honey? Ellis is happy. Camilla, I must know everything about you and your family. What’s your mother’s maiden name? What’s your heritage? Ellis, didn’t you say she’s from the north? A Yankee?”

  “Lord, Mother, I said she’s from the south. And who even uses that term anymore?”

  “You wouldn’t know my family. As far as my heritage, my maternal grandmother is Italian, and still lives in Italy, and I believe I have English and Irish ancestors, as well.”

  “I can’t wait to hear more. We’re acquaintances to several southerners, so we’re bound to be connected in some way.”

  “Let’s get to know Camilla and our apparent grandchild first,” James says.

  “We’ve already taken a paternity test, Father,” Ellis replies. “He’s mine.”

  Grabbing my hand, Estella beams. “This calls for a party; a welcoming celebration for you and Liam. We’ll have cake and clowns—”

  “Kids hate clowns, Estella. They’re scary fuckers,” Ron says.

  The family laughs, minus Mary Ann who replies, “Watch your language, Ron.”

  Greyson tips his glass toward me. “I think it’s Camilla who should be concerned about what’s in the gene pool on this side of the family.”

  “OK, so no clowns, but we can have one of those jumpy things kids love to play in.” She fiddles with her diamond necklace. “Ellis, you have me so frazzled with this news and right before I have to give a speech in front of five hundred people.”

  “You’ll do fine, my love,” James says to her. “You always do.” They seem to possess a strong love for one another, and it’s comforting to know Ellis has witnessed more than one couple work through their indiscretions, troubles and loss.

  Maybe seeing that forgiveness in his family will spur his ability to forgive me, too.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Ellis

  My parents handled that better than I expected, but I’m certain James will give me an ass-chewing later. We have what I call a loving, dysfunctional relationship. It’s a pleasure to get a rise out of him, but it’s my defense mechanism. I strike before he has a chance to.

  Ever since I became a hacker, my father has treated me differently, but my brother and I wouldn’t have spent every waking hour on computers if we’d had parents who weren’t so wrapped up in their own careers.

  His notion of an esteemed profession is what he desires for me, and it’s yet another situation he doesn’t understand. What I do is vital to our existence and something for him to be proud of, even if he can’t share all the gritty details with his friends and associates.

  Since I’m private and anti-social, he worries others will think I’m a hermit freak, playing on a laptop while hidden away in my mansion.

  Maybe I have been the beast in hiding, but now I have a beauty to heal me and a nephew who makes me want to be a better man.

  Damn, Camilla and I need to figure out what to tell Liam, and since we haven’t settled that, I’m surprised she’s not pissed at me for what I told my family tonight.

  I gaze at her as she touches the pink peonies and ivory roses at the center of our table. She’s in awe of her surroundings: the very things I take for granted from being exposed to luxury all my life.

  She picks up her fork, and it’s cute how she checks to see if anyone is watching before she shoves a bite of food in her mouth. I think she’s barely eaten today, so she’s likely starved.

  My mother takes the stage, and everyone applauds. Greyson scoots his chair closer and leans in.

  “Did you not get enough of her when you sli
pped away?” His breath reeks of liquor, so I point to his glass.

  “How many of those have you had?”

  “Don’t change the subject. Admit you fucked her in this building. I can recognize that look on a woman anywhere. Rosy skin and mussed-up hair. Swollen wine-colored lips.” He gawks at her, and I may stab his eyes out with my fork.

  Since my mother is speaking, I lower my voice and say, “Stop before it’s too late, asshole. You need to slow it down on the scotch, too.”

  “It’s Pappy, actually. He’s my only friend tonight.”

  “You get hammered on bourbon.”

  He scowls. “Blame it on the bitches here. They’re all up on my junk, and not in a good way.”

  Shaking my head, I shift back toward Camilla and the stage. Estella praises my brother, telling lies I wish were truths, until I’m forced to exile my brain to keep my panic at bay.

  Camilla’s body becomes rigid as my mother speaks of Tony, so I scoot away from Greyson and closer to her, moving my hand around to rest on her thigh.

  Threading our fingers, she relaxes her shoulders, and for once it looks like I’ll get through an entire gala without running … well, maybe.

  My girl’s not wearing panties, and the thought keeps running through my head. My cum is all over them as they rest in my pocket. Damn, I might ditch this event yet to have a taste of her.

  As the paintings are auctioned, my mind drifts back to Tony and some of the times we visited art galleries. One interest we did share was an appreciation for the arts, particularly paintings.

  I tend to choose pieces that express deep emotions, and maybe that’s because I have trouble expressing my own.

  The auctioneer pointing straight at our table brings me back to the present. I look to my right, and Christopher is holding up his paddle, bidding twenty thousand dollars.

  A woman a few tables to our left outbids him at twenty-one, but Christopher holds his paddle up again at twenty-two.

  What the hell is he doing?

  My eyes dart to the current painting. It’s a Johan Jongkind marine oil painting of a ship and sea. Hmm…

  “We have twenty-two,” the auctioneer says. “Can we get twenty-three?” He points to the back of the room before Chris can get his paddle raised. “You there, for twenty-three. Can we get twenty-four?”

  Christopher outbids, and I recall a conversation we had after Tony died. He claimed my brother wanted him to have the painting, but since there was no proof of that, I told him no.

  He seemed desperate after I refused, asking if he could buy it, but I’d already agreed to this deal with my mother. I never dreamed he’d be willing to spend what we could get for it at auction.

  Making more bids, he catches Camilla’s attention, too, and she stares at him in disbelief as he wipes a bead of sweat from his forehead. I lean over to whisper to Greyson.

  “Bid against him.”

  “Why? I don’t want it.”

  “Do it. I’ll pay you back.”

  “But the painting was left to you. Why would you buy it?”

  “Dammit, just do it.”

  “Fine,” he snaps. With the bid now at twenty-six, Greyson holds up his paddle. I glance to Christopher, and his lips purse as he takes a glimpse at Greyson.

  The two of them, a female to our left, and the person behind us continue to bid. I look back and see it’s a friend of my father’s, Mason Gerard.

  The female yields at forty, but Greyson, Christopher and Mason go at it, outbidding one another quickly. The tension builds, and all eyes are on our table now.

  “Chris,” Camilla says in a harsh whisper after he lifts his paddle at forty-eight grand. He ignores her, forging on, and at this point, it’s become a game for Greyson.

  He’s enjoying the attention, throwing caution to the wind, especially since the money’s not coming from his wallet. At fifty, Mason drops out, and after a bid of fifty-six thousand by my cousin, Christopher throws his paddle on the table in the most undignified way.

  “Can we get fifty-seven? Anyone? Fifty-seven?” The auctioneer is scouring the room, but no one else raises their paddle. “Going once, going twice…” He brings his hammer down. “Sold for fifty-six thousand to the gentleman in the front.”

  Good thing this is for a worthy cause since I highly suspect we overbid the value of this painting. The guests applaud, and Greyson leans over to me, losing his fake grin.

  “You need therapy, and you owe me one. As soon as I have a need, I’ll collect on it.”

  My teeth grind. “Thank you.”

  Getting up from the table, Christopher storms toward the exit, so Camilla turns her head and glowers at both Greyson and me.

  “I’m going to go talk to him for a minute.” As she starts to stand, I grab her wrist.

  “If you go after him, you better be prepared for a painful punishment.” My jaw is set tight, and my heart is hammering.

  “He’s my friend.”

  “And you’re mine.” Having a showdown of wills, she huffs a breath, turns her chair to face the stage, and crosses her arms.

  “That might’ve backfired on you there, cuz,” Greyson says with slurred speech.

  “Shut up, asshole.”

  Camilla

  For all the excitement Ellis incites, it’s accompanied by a great deal of stress. I’m pissed that I’m turned on by his threat and grasp of my wrist.

  I’m angry and confused as to why he had Greyson bid against Christopher. I saw Ellis whispering to him, so I have no doubt he was behind it.

  Maybe Christopher has more money saved than I thought he did if he’d bid such an outrageous amount on a painting. It doesn’t make sense when all I’ve heard is how disappointed and angry he is with Tony.

  Taking a drink of my third glass of champagne, I blow out a long, slow breath. I’m losing my resolve to get through this night, especially when I think of the confession I’ll make in mere hours.

  ***

  “We have to take Greyson home with us and keep an eye on him tonight,” I say to Ellis as we wait in the lobby for Fletcher to pick us up.

  Grabbing my waist, he brings me close and kisses my ear.

  “But I owe you multiple orgasms for your good behavior this evening, and I plan to deliver.”

  “He’s already stumbled to the bathroom three times to vomit. What if while he’s alone, he chokes on it and dies?”

  Ellis growls in my ear. “OK, if you insist.”

  Pulling away, I look at the floor and bite my lip.

  “Besides, we need to have a discussion tonight. There’s something I need to tell you … about the past, and it can’t wait another day. It’s been weighing on me heavily.” Lifting my chin, Ellis lowers his head and fastens his gaze to mine.

  “I think I know what it pertains to, and we probably should discuss it so we can stop dwelling on the past and get on with our life together.”

  I shake my head. “No, I don’t think you know what this is about.” Greyson stumbles back from the restroom, and he’s in rough shape. His tux jacket is open, bowtie hanging from his collar. His skin is ashen, and his textured blond hair that’s longer on top is now drooping over his face.

  Ellis gets the call that Fletcher has pulled up out front, so we help Greyson to the car. The guys lug him into the front passenger seat before Ellis and I take the back.

  On the drive home, I decide to make small talk to distract me from what lies ahead.

  “What type of work does your father and Ron do? I was afraid I’d insult them if I asked, but you’ve never told me.”

  Ellis’s eyebrows pinch together, and he smiles.

  “They would’ve had belly laughs over that one, especially Uncle Rich. You seriously don’t know? They’ve been in the paper often, and our name is well-known.”

  “I’m sorry. I’ve been too busy over the years to follow much of the news. I was struggling to make a living to care for Sasha and Liam.”

  Bringing my hand up, Ellis frowns and kisses it.


  “My Burke ancestors bought up land parcels throughout the west, and most of those were sold off over the years, so that’s how my family first acquired wealth.

  “Then, my father developed business management software, and Microsoft purchased it in 1996. Needless to say, he was able to retire.”

  “Ah, I see now where your interest in technology came from.”

  “Yes, and my father feels I’ve wasted my talent and the use of our name.” Uncomfortable by his admission, he clears his throat. “Uncle Rich chose a different path. He married Mary Ann Gant, whose late father was half owner of Gant-Peterson Oil Company. Rich worked for him.”

  “Isn’t Peterson Whitney’s last name?” I ask quietly.

  “You pay attention. Yes, and her late grandfather owned the other half of the company. Now, her father runs it with Rich.” Ellis looks to the front seat and back to me. “Greyson was already supposed to marry Whitney,” he whispers.

  “What? Like some arranged marriage?”

  “I guess you could call it that. He keeps putting it off. I shouldn’t discuss it, especially now.”

  I sigh as I think about how miserable Greyson seemed tonight. Getting to know the Burke family has reaffirmed my belief that although money can ease some burdens, it doesn’t buy happiness.

  “Why did you have Greyson outbid Christopher for the painting?”

  “I want to examine it. I don’t believe Christopher would spend that kind of money to have a keepsake of Tony’s.”

  “You really don’t trust him.”

  “No, I don’t, and it’s not only because of you. There’s something else about him that doesn’t sit right with me, and I’ve decided to get to the bottom of it so I can finally put his ass on the road.”

  “I think you’re overreacting.”

  “And I think you need to be less trusting of him.”

  Sighing, I recall the times I’ve misjudged someone’s character.

  “Maybe you’re right. My track record for trusting people stinks.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Ellis

  Fletcher helps me haul Greyson to my family room. We remove his jacket and drop him on the sofa. I’m not about to drag his limp ass upstairs.