by ANDREA SMITH
“Let’s see, it must mean I’m given the honor of being kissed while we fuck, and then there’s also the additional perk of you not ordering me out of your bed as soon as we’re finished! Oh, let’s not forget that I only went home with a sore ass versus other more serious possibilities. Tell me—in the scheme of things, where do you see my current role taking me in my 5-year plan? Is there growth potential in this position, or am I going to crash against the glass ceiling?”
I was on my feet glaring at him now, standing right in front of him. His face darkened. His eyes blazed. I’d hit a raw nerve with Easton Matthews and I didn’t give a shit.
“Well, I see you and Lacee had quite a little soiree this afternoon,” he snapped. “Swapping stories it seems.”
“Lacee did all of the talking. For once, I just listened; and I didn’t like what I heard, I’m sorry to say. Every person has feelings that should be respected. I don’t give a fuck how many times you’ve set the parameters of the sexual relationship you had going with her, apparently somewhere along the way, she missed a couple bi-weekly memos. And that’s on you, because if you did tell her that there would never be anything deeper between the two of you, you didn’t tell her very damn well.”
“It’s more complicated than that,” he replied.
“Why?”
“I don’t know why. It just is. I know my capabilities as well as my limitations. I didn’t intentionally set out to hurt her, and I wouldn’t intentionally do anything to hurt you, most of all. I just don’t have it within me to love anyone the way they expect to be loved. I’m deficient in emotional connections, I suppose.”
“Bullshit! You’ve chosen that path for yourself for whatever reason, so please don’t blame it on being emotionally deficient, unless of course you’re a certified sociopath. Is that what you’re telling me?”
Uh oh…
He grabbed me, pulling me up against his hard body, fisting my ponytail so that my face tilted up, inches from his. His dark gray eyes were flashing with fury that I’d suggested he was sociopathic. I suppose now was not the right time to tell him that I’d read somewhere many successful CEO’s, political leaders, and influential people were certified sociopaths.
His mouth lowered to within an inch or less of mine.
“Is that what you really think? Do you truly believe that you’ve been fucking a dangerous sociopath?”
His voice was harsh and menacing as he looked into my eyes. I didn’t flinch or show fear, which, of course, is what he wanted.
“No,” I stated firmly. “I think I’ve been fucking someone who doesn’t know who or what he is, much less what he wants. I think he’s someone that has some baggage he hasn’t dealt with, which is a shame, because he’s almost perfect otherwise,” I finished softly.
We stood there for a few moments…him fisting my hair, and me holding his stare.
He let out a breath we’d both been holding. Releasing my ponytail, he took a step back. “I don’t want to let you go,” he said, almost as if to himself.
I wrapped my arms around myself in something that would probably look a lot like defeat. I waited for him to continue.
“You’re always on my mind,” he said. I saw a decision glint beneath his long, sooty eyelashes. “But I know what I am and what I’m capable of, and as much as I want to, I can’t give you what you want and need. I’ll only hurt you in the end and I don’t want that. I’m sorry. I’m going to make arrangements to return to London. I’ll assign a very capable acting replacement for me until I return.”
A quick, clean break.
I managed a nod, kind of wondering where all of my strength from before had gone. I guess somewhere in our conversation, I’d lent it to him. Because now, he was doing the very thing I asked for and wanted. Right?
I was still looking down at my ‘Pretty in Pink’ toenails when I felt him put his arms around me, holding me tight in the way that every girl loves.
“Good-bye, love,” he whispered against my hair. “I wish it could’ve been different. I wish I was fucking different.”
I nodded again, this time being the one to take a step back. I watched as he opened the door, getting ready to leave. Midway past the threshold, he stopped.
“She didn’t love me.” He didn’t spare me by looking back, so I wasn’t able to see the look on his face. “Lacee, I mean. She wanted to fix me, and there’s a very thick line between loving someone and having the desire to fix them.”
The door closed.
A broken sigh rattled through my lips. I wouldn’t let anything more out; there was no need. It wasn’t as if I had that much time, effort, or affection invested in Easton Matthews. This was different than with Darin, though. This was the pain over a hesitated decision, a decision I’d probably always hesitate over and never really be quite sure of.
The rest of the evening was spent in a fog. I curled up on the couch, feeling alone, isolated, and empty. I drifted to sleep finally, awakening much later when Eli got in and flicked on the overhead light.
“What are you doing down here in the dark?” he asked, looking concerned.
I was hoping he’d simply figure I’d stayed home, got drunk, and passed out on the sofa.
No such luck!
“Oh baby girl,” he said alarmed, coming over to sit down next to me. “You’ve been dumped.”
“Can I sleep with you tonight, Eli?” I asked. “I just don’t…want to be alone right now.”
“Slumber party it is,” he said, pulling me up off the couch. “We can’t be too loud, though. My mom will get angry and then she won’t pack my ‘Super Man’ juice box for lunch tomorrow. And little Tommy will beat me up.”
I was already fighting a smile as I headed to the bathroom to brush my teeth.
For the second time this evening, I fell asleep. Only this time, Eli was next to me, assuring me that everything would be okay.
chapter 22
I hadn’t seen Lindsey since the wedding, and had only talked to her a couple of times by phone after she and Taz returned from their honeymoon. I’d called her as I was leaving the office the following day and asked if I could stop by and visit my god-daughter.
“Well, of course,” she said. “You don’t need an invitation. I’m dying to show you pictures of our trip.”
As soon as I’d gotten into my car, I flipped the mirror down on the driver’s side to reapply some concealer around my eyes, due to lack of restful sleep. Eli said I’d tossed and turned so much he had to get up and take a Dramamine before he came back to bed. That was another one of his attempts at trying to lift my spirits. It hadn’t worked.
As soon as Lindsey opened the door, her eyes flickered over me from top to bottom. I had sunglasses on because it was actually a sunny day in March.
“Well, come on in,” she squealed. “It seems like it’s been forever.” She and I hugged inside the door. “Come on in the living room, Harper’s taking a nap, but she should be up in another half-hour or so. She grows daily.”
I took off my jacket and sunglasses and followed Lindsey into the living room. She sat on the couch, watching me as I joined her.
“What’s going on?” she asked, point blank.
“Nothing’s going on,” I lied. “Just missed you is all.”
“Darcy, I love you, but you look a bit hellish. Plus, I can see that you’ve recently put on some cover-up.” She gave me the squinty eye, “Oh…My…God.”
Bingo.
“You’ve been dumped.”
Jesus, would people stop saying that…
“What?”
“Don’t deny it,” she said. “Who was it? You didn’t take Darin back, did you? What the hell’s going on?”
“Okay, okay,” I said, settling back. There was no way Lindsey and I could keep things from one another, even when we wanted to. “It was Easton,” I replied.
“What?” she screeched.
“Shhh,” I hushed her. “You�
�re going to wake the baby up.”
“I think that’s my line, Darce. And she’s so used to the racket Taz makes, she can sleep through an earthquake. Now, tell me how in the hell you got involved with Easton.”
I gave her the short story, starting from our night together after their wedding. I left out details about our other sexual encounter because that was really no one else’s business. I did tell her some of the things Lacee had mentioned, though.
“Wow,” she said, sitting back and shaking her head. “I had no clue you two would hit it off like that.”
“We didn’t actually hit it off. I mean, he basically told me he’s incapable of loving anyone.”
“Well, you and I both know that’s bullshit. We should talk to Taz about it.”
“No, we should not,” I barked. “This is BFF stuff and I don’t want Taz to know about it.”
“Why not? Maybe he could shed some light on why Easton’s the way he is. Aren’t you the least bit curious?”
“Well, sure,” I replied, shrugging. “But, I mean, they didn’t exactly grow up together, from what I gathered.”
“Look,” she said firmly, “it might help to know and Taz may or may not be able to shed any light, but it’s worth asking. There’s no reason for you to feel uncomfortable about it with him. He should be home soon and you’re staying for dinner, no argument.”
Lindsey had her way and we spent the rest of the afternoon looking at her wedding and honeymoon pictures, playing with Harper, and catching up on everything else. When Taz arrived home, he immediately drew Lindsey in for a long, passionate kiss, and then greeted me. Harper was on my lap and immediately smiled upon seeing her daddy.
She was three months old and starting to seem less like a newborn. I couldn’t tell just yet who she favored. Taz took her from me, giving her hugs and kisses. It warmed my heart to see their interaction. I wondered if I’d ever have what Lindsey had. I was happy for her, yet part of me couldn’t help feeling envious. Having someone love me the way Taz loved her was something no amount of money or power could ever buy.
At dinner, Lindsey did a fine job of giving Taz just enough information, without totally humiliating me in the process, of what had transpired between his half-brother and me.
“Oh hey, Darcy,” he said, reaching over to pat my shoulder, “I’m really sorry if Easton hurt your feelings like that. I mean, we’re not close, you see. He spent some summers with us while I was growing up, but I have to tell you, I don’t really know him all that well.”
“I told Lindsey that, but she thought maybe you knew about this Bianca Templeton or maybe something about his mother,” I replied, now hopeful maybe he could shed some light.
“I don’t know anything about this Bianca,” he said immediately, “but there are some things I do know about his mother, none of which are good.”
“Really?” Lindsey and I both asked at the same time. He nodded.
“My father was really torn up that Easton wasn’t able to spend much time with us. I was just a kid, so all I really remember were discussions I’d overheard between my mom and him, or Dad being on the phone with Sophia, arguing about her keeping Easton from him. Over the years, as I got older, it was very clear to me that Sophia was a wealthy, controlling, psycho-bitch. Instead of envying my older brother, I felt sorry that he didn’t have a normal upbringing like Paige and me. That’s about it,” he finished.
I was disappointed. As much as I had initially resisted Lindsey’s suggestion of going to Taz for info, I’d held out hope it would enlighten me somewhat, but it had proven fruitless.
“Taz, you did that very well,” Lindsey said, a sly grin on her face.
Huh?
“Not following, baby girl.”
“Baby,” she said her eyes twinkling, “you’re a senior FBI agent. You’ve got access to even the most classified information, which in this case, isn’t what we’re asking for. Now, despite the fact your half-brother isn’t part of any past or current investigation to my knowledge, you can’t tell me Trace Michael Matthews that you’ve never, out of simple curiosity, ran a full background on him. Are you going to deny this to your wife?”
“Shit, Lindsey,” he said, “you think you know me so well, don’t you?”
“You tell me.”
“Christ, alright. Let me see what all I can remember, it’s been a while.”
Lindsey and I sat waiting for only a few seconds.
“Easton Jamison Matthews, Born in San Francisco, California, November 15, 1980 to Trace Matthews and Sophia Windsor Matthews, who has since returned to her maiden name of “Windsor,” due to some royal bloodline connections. Sophia’s never re-married, and claims that Easton lays claim to the title of “Baron” through British peerage records, as she’s the only daughter of Clive and Lillian Windsor, whose pedigree can be traced upward to the royal family.”
I looked over at Lindsey and her mouth was hanging open, matching mine. Taz continued as if this whole biography was etched in his brain. I was impressed.
“Trace Matthews, my father, and Sophia divorced in 1982, due to irreconcilable differences. Sophia returned to England with 1-year old Easton, briefly living with her parents until she was deeded a large estate adjacent to their property in Kensington, an upscale suburb of London. Easton was schooled in private schools until third grade. He was home-schooled by a governess for less than a year, and then sent to boarding school in Switzerland, until he was ready for college. He graduated from the University of Cambridge in 2003 with a B.S. degree in Humanities, and completed his Master’s Program at Oxford in 2005 with a degree in Business Finance. Shortly thereafter, his maternal grandparents, Clive and Lillian Windsor were killed in an automobile accident while vacationing in Madrid. The beneficiaries of their estate were Sophia and Easton, splitting a $1.6 billion coffer 50/50.”
Now Lindsey and I both gasped.
“I know, hon,” Taz said, looking at Lindsey with sad eyes. “It appears you picked the wrong ‘Matthews,’ eh?”
“Oh, Taz,” she giggled. “I’m sure your lack of wealth is made up for…in other places.” She gave him a flirty wink.
“Don’t be so sure, Linds…”
They kissed again like the ‘in-love’ fools they were and Taz finished up.
“Let’s see, oh yes, Easton invested a portion of his heritance in a newly-formed venture capital group that hit the mark on mergers and acquisitions. Within a year, he spun off on his own with his own newly-formed venture capital firm titled “Baronton Holdings, L.L.C.” and has proven to be quite the successful entrepreneur with a diverse portfolio of both manufacturing and service industry holdings that cater to government and commercial contracts of all sorts. In 2008, Easton backed an up-and-coming fashion model by the name of Bianca Templeton, a Brit whose family was average, middle-class, taking her to A-List fame with some of the top global agencies. In 2011, Easton severed all ties for personal reasons with Ms. Templeton. Shortly thereafter, her modeling career went south. Sources indicate that Easton had planned to marry the lovely, dark-haired beauty in the near term. However, upon learning that Ms. Templeton was sleeping with her photographer, the relationship was terminated. Since that time, Easton Matthews hasn’t been involved in any long-term relationships, continuing to build his empire and live a life of private solitude.”
Wow!
“Wow,” Lindsey said, leaning in toward Taz. “When you talk like that it’s so hot, Trace.” They kissed again.
Oh geez…yeah, I can probably kiss goodbye another night’s sleep after this.
“Hey, Taz,” I interrupted. “Thanks for the bio, but that still doesn’t tell me why he’s so fucked-up. Sorry—I mean I know he’s your brother and all.”
“Half-brother,” he corrected. “Darcy, the worst thing you can do is think it’s something you did, because I guarantee you, it wasn’t. Dude has some baggage going on, and it’s up to him to realize it and do something about it, unless he’s ha
ppy with the status quo. My money, or lack of it, I should say, is on him. I think, once he realizes he needs to fix things in order to have you, he will. I mean, besides my Lindsey here, you’re the whole package, girl.”
I knew Taz, in his own sweet way, was trying to make me feel better. It didn’t. I still believed there was more to it than simply Bianca breaking his heart. There had to be.
“Thanks,” I replied. “Lindsey, thank you, too. I’m glad you convinced me to share this with Taz. Listen guys, I’ve got to head home. Oh, Taz, by the way, did you know Easton just bought the majority share of my father’s company?”
I watched Taz get that slow, shit-eating grin on his face. “See there? What’d I tell you? He just needs to figure it out.” I hoped he was right.
It had been a little over a month since I last saw Easton. True to his word, he’d departed for London. The following Monday, his acting replacement, Colin Devers, was in Easton’s office chatting on the phone when I arrived. I’d furnished my office to blend with Easton’s, only a bit more eclectically. He’d approved my requisition before he left. I’d found it on my temporary desk when I finally returned to work after he’d told me “good-bye.”
Colin seemed more British than Easton, if that made sense. He was mid-thirties, medium brown hair, not quite as tall as Easton, but muscularly built. I figured they probably worked out together when both in London. He had a sexy goatee as well, but don’t worry, I wasn’t about to go there.
I got the feeling that Colin went way back with Easton, just from little things he mentioned here and there. I knew they communicated by phone and e-mail frequently because Colin stuck to the training program Easton had outlined to a “T.” He’d periodically tell me Easton was pleased with my progress. He was pleasant enough and we got along well.
Lacee’s treatment of me had become benign since Easton’s departure. We interacted when necessary at the office, and were civil with one another. My father and mother had left two weeks ago for a 6-week cruise. Neither of them had an inkling anything had gone on between Easton and me. Thank God!
