Dirty Sexy Games

by Laurelin Paige

  Most of the meal was spent explaining how Sebastian had come into my life, what little I knew about him and his mother, plus delivering the blow that I was soon moving to France. The last bit of news set off a new round of tears from my mother, but fortunately we had Sebastian at the table with us. His adorable antics made it hard to be upset about anything for long.

  I loved watching my parents dote on my kid. My mother had always been attentive, but I’d forgotten my father’s ability to be imaginative and playful. Or maybe he’d just matured. Maybe he was different with a grandchild than he had been with me and Noelle. It was hard to say. Either way, it was possible to overlook a whole lot of grievances in order to be in a room with both my parents and my child.

  It occurred to me, in a stupid sort of epiphany, one of those kinds of epiphanies that really should not even be an epiphany, but somehow it shatters the earth when it falls into place, that my father was just a man. A man who had tried the best that he could to be a good father. And maybe on a lot of days he got it wrong, but at least he was there, trying. Unlike Elizabeth’s father, who hadn’t even bothered to show up.

  And here I was, about ready to divide my life between a child and a woman, between two continents. The reasoning made sense perfectly inside me, but one day when Sebastian looked back on it, would he resent me for not doing more for him? For not giving more? Was he going to hold me to the same standard of perfection that I had so long held my dad to?

  God, I sure hoped not.

  Sometimes we fathers needed to be given a break.

  After dinner, we all helped clear the table—well, everyone except my mother, who was too busy oohing and awing over her grandson. Then everyone headed to the living room, but halfway there, I stopped my parents.

  “Mom and Dad, can I talk to you for a few minutes?”

  Elizabeth picked up the hint immediately. “Maggie, let me take Sebastian and see if he needs a diaper change.” She somehow got my mother to relinquish the little boy, and then asked Noelle to show her to a place where she could change him.

  Alone, my parents and I headed to the library.

  It was strange being in my father’s favorite room, not because I hadn’t been in there a million times before. In fact, the last time I’d been there I’d been with Elizabeth. Right now, how I longed to be alone with her again, longed to pull her into my lap and bury myself inside her, thank her for always being a warm, safe place.

  But I had things to say. Things to get off my chest, and that was what was strange about being in there now. I’d never felt like this room was a place where people actually talked. It was meant for studying and reading. Meant for silence. And here I was about ready to say the most important words I’d ever said in this house. Ever said to my parents.

  This time I did make sure they were sitting, and I took the armchair next to my father. I leaned forward, my elbows on my thighs, and gathered my thoughts before I began.

  “When I first found out about Sebastian, I freaked out,” I said. “I couldn’t be a dad. I didn’t know the first thing about being a father. And the only people who’ve taught me about parenting—my own parents—were a million miles away from me, in so many ways. I didn’t feel like I could even ask you for help.”

  My mother shifted on the couch, but she didn’t say anything.

  “Of course, the reason you were a million miles away was because I put you there. And the reasons I put you there were because of mistakes that Dad made in business. Not because you were actually all that bad of a dad.”

  My father hung his head and studied his hands. It was progress, considering that the last time we’d talked about the corruption at King-Kincaid, he’d wanted only to defend himself and barely let me get a word in edgewise.

  I supposed that was a natural response to being accused of being a terrible person by your son. I couldn’t imagine hearing the things I’d said to my dad coming at me from Sebastian. Silently, I promised to make sure he’d never have to.

  Could my dad promise that I’d never have to say them again to him?

  “The thing is, I don’t want to spend forever…” There were a million ways I could finish that sentence. I didn’t want to spend forever hating them, blaming them, defending them. Without them.

  “I miss you,” my voice cracked. I swallowed. Swallowed again when the ball was still lodged at the back of my throat. “But I’m still really mad at you, too.”

  “Weston, I—”

  My mother put a hand on my father’s back. “Nash, let him talk.”

  “I understand some of it, Dad. I understand that you couldn’t just leave the company. If you’d taken the fall, everyone who works for you would have lost their jobs when the company fell apart. Maybe you were actually doing the noble thing by staying in charge and helming the ship through the scandal.

  “But I don’t understand why you would need to have used such unethical practices in the first place. And I don’t understand why you let Daniel be the one who suffered for it. It was wrong, Dad. It was a big mistake.”

  I straightened, letting my pronouncement fall on the room and settle. “It was a mistake,” I repeated, “but I get that you’re not perfect, that you are doing the best you can. And I forgive you.”

  God, that felt good to say.

  Like a two-ton boulder had been lifted from my back, and I hadn’t even realized I’d been carrying it. I’d had no idea how much I needed to say it.

  I’d needed to say it so much, I said it again. “I forgive you, Dad. And you, too, Mom.”

  A choked sob erupted from the couch, but when I looked at my mother, who was indeed tearing up, I realized the sound had come from the person at her side. From the man I’d never seen shed a tear in my entire life. The King of the financial world, my father, was crying.

  My mother wrapped her arms around her husband and held him.

  My own eyes stung as I fell to the floor in front of them and placed my hands on his knees. “I forgive you, Dad.” Apparently he’d needed to hear it as much as I’d needed to say it.

  “Thank you, son,” he choked out. “That means a lot.”

  “But forgiving you doesn’t fix everything. It doesn’t make amends.”

  He looked at me, intently focused.

  “I’ve been giving the Clemmons family money every month, trying to help them out, but it’s not enough. I’m going to give them my trust fund. It doesn’t feel right for me to have all that when they’ve had to sacrifice everything for me to keep it.”

  “No,” he said. “That’s your money. I saved that for you.”

  “I know you did. And I’m giving it to the Clemmonses. Because they suffered for you.”

  He wiped his eye with the flat of his large palm as he shook his head. “No, please. Don’t do that. It’s not your job to fix this. It’s mine.”

  The ball thickened in my throat. “This was your money. You wanted me to have it. I figure you suffer by me giving it to them.”

  “That’s very noble of you,” he chuckled. “But I’d rather suffer by giving your trust fund to Sebastian, if you refuse to touch it. And I’ll donate the same amount that’s in your fund to the Clemmonses. It’s what I should have done all along. I’m sorry I didn’t offer it sooner.”

  “You did have that settlement drawn up for after Daniel got out of jail,” my mother said. “Don’t forget that.”

  “You were planning to give him a settlement?” I was more than a little surprised.

  “Maggie insisted,” he said, looking at my mother. “As soon as she heard the verdict. She also made me put up an anonymous scholarship at the day school that helps care for the twins.”

  “I hadn’t realized,” I said feeling the last bit of tension roll off my shoulders. “I didn’t realize you were looking out for them.”

  “You didn’t think your compassionate side came out of nowhere, did you?” my mother asked, teasing.

  “Eh, let’s be clear—he didn’t get it from me.”

 
; I laughed. At least my dad was honest.

  And maybe a better man than I’d given him credit for.

  “I’m sorry, Weston,” he said. “For a lot of things, but mostly for disappointing you. You’re already a better father than I was because you’ve learned from my mistakes. And you’re a good father because you’re willing to build your life around him. I’m proud of you.”

  “Thank you, Dad.” My chest burned. “Thank you both. For raising me. For being there, as much as you were. I wasn’t there for two entire years of Sebastian’s life, and I can’t stand how much time I missed with him. It guts me to think of how much of my life I’ve kept from you.” Jesus, I didn’t want to be crying.

  My mother leaned forward and wrapped her arms around me. “Please just say you won’t let us miss anything else.”

  “I won’t,” I promised, hugging her. “I won’t.”

  I made other promises too, silent promises, about being a better son and a good dad. Promises to be a good husband and a better human. Not to be perfect—no one could be perfect—but I promised to keep trying.

  Because try was all we could do for sure. We could try, and we could forgive.

  If we managed that much, then, yeah, we were going to be okay.

  17

  Elizabeth

  I took a deep breath, adjusted my teardrop necklace, then stepped out of the elevator onto the floor of Reach’s executive offices. I’d been here a hundred times since that first day almost six months ago. How was it possible to feel so lost when I knew exactly where I was going? So out of place in a setting so familiar?

  It was only the day after Christmas, but Weston and I couldn’t afford any more time off. We had too much to do. Too much to get caught up on. He’d gone into the office early, and I’d started straightaway into my list of tasks. Movers had headed to his apartment today to pack up and collect my things and prepare them for shipment to France. Then I’d had errands, all in preparation for this afternoon’s meeting. Everything had been set in motion, each carefully laid out detail now put in place.

  All that was left was this.

  And this was going to be the hardest part.

  Hard things didn’t get easier by dragging feet, I’d learned in my short life. So while I dreaded the upcoming conversation, I still forced myself to head toward Weston’s office at a rapid clip, smiling and nodding greetings to his coworkers who acknowledged me on my way.

  “Mrs. King! What a pleasure to see you. He knows you are coming?” Roxie stood to greet me and gestured for me to hand her my jacket.

  “He doesn’t. It’s a surprise.” And not a very nice surprise. But I didn’t mention that.

  Roxie frowned. “I’m sure he’d like to see you. He has a four o’clock though. They haven’t arrived yet—late. You could probably sneak in a few minutes.”

  “Actually, I’m the four o’clock,” I confessed. “I had my assistant make the appointment so that you wouldn’t recognize my voice. To make it a true surprise.”

  “You have an assistant now! How fancy. I like to see women in power.” She hung up my coat in the closet behind her desk and then sat back down.

  I just smiled, because I didn’t feel very powerful, and though I was sure to have an assistant when I got to Paris, I didn’t have one yet. Advisor was his official title. And he’d made the phone call to get the appointment as a favor, not because it was his job duty.

  “Can I go in?” I asked, nodding toward the half-closed door.

  “Oh. Yes. Should I announce you?” Roxie’s hand hovered above the receiver of her phone.

  “No. I’m sure he knows who I am.”

  It took more strength to walk to his doors then I would’ve thought necessary, and, truthfully, if Roxie hadn’t been behind me watching me, I might’ve turned around and fled. But with her eyes on my back, a sort of unwilling, unwitting cheerleader, I made it past the threshold, and shut the doors behind me.

  Weston looked up at the sound of the door click. And the way his face changed when he saw me—it was like finally getting to the Hallelujah chorus of the Messiah with his bright smile and lit eyes. He looked at me like I was royalty. Like I was fit to bow down to. Fit to kneel in front of.

  “Elizabeth, what are you doing here?” He was already up and out of his seat and coming to me. But when he leaned in to greet me with a kiss, I turned my face at the last minute, so his lips landed on my cheek.

  I could be cruel, I’d learned. Especially where my love was concerned.

  I brushed the incident off, talking quickly as if that was why I’d moved my face. “I have an appointment with you.”

  “An appointment? You’re my four o’clock?” If he was hurt or worried about my rejection, he was now distracted by this latest news.

  “Yep. Surprise.”

  His mouth morphed into a mischievous grin. “Why, Mrs. King. Did you book me for office sex? What a terribly kinky and amazing idea. Why didn’t I think of it?” He rushed to his desk and hit the button that changed the windows that looked out into the office from clear to opaque.

  I stepped forward, eager to clear up his mistake. “No, no.” Though, now I was regretting that we’d never gotten to have office sex. “I have some other things to discuss. Business things. Formality things. I thought this was the best setting for them.”

  His smile dissolved into a concerned frown. “Okay. Sure. What’s up?”

  “Why don’t you have a seat.” God, why did I say that? Everything terrible began with have a seat.

  But he unbuttoned his jacket and sat down, so I smoothed my hands over the thighs of my pantsuit and then sat in the seat facing him.

  It was so weird, sitting with something so big and bulky between us. It hadn’t been that long since we’d finally shed our last secrets, since he’d torn down his last walls. After being that close to someone, it was hard to go back.

  No. Not going back. We were going forward—toward where we were both supposed to be. I needed to remember that.

  I looked around the room, letting nostalgia take me over for a moment.

  “Your office is a whole lot less intimidating than the first time I was in here,” I said, because it was true. It was the words that were intimidating, not the office. Not the man.

  Weston leaned back, relaxing a bit. “I don’t know why I was intimidating. I kept my hands to myself.”

  It hadn’t stopped me from imagining them on me. “I meant that I was so naïve.”

  “You were ambitious.”

  “Overly ambitious?”

  He considered. I was sure if someone had asked him then, he would’ve said yes. Now, he said, “I underestimated you. You’ve come a long way. You’ve learned a lot. Your passion alone will take you far, but your knowledge will make you a force to be reckoned with.”

  “But you were right—I had been in over my head. I had no idea what I was talking about when I walked into that meeting with you and Nate and Donovan. It was all show. You had no reason to stand behind a pushy, overzealous poli-sci major. And yet you did.”

  I caught his eyes across the desk, and they felt penetrating.

  Abruptly, he sat up straight and started fiddling with the pen in front of him. “Elizabeth, why exactly are you here today?”

  I wasn’t ready.

  I jumped up and walked over to the bookcases, the ones that opened to reveal the dartboard behind them. When he’d opened them that day and shown me the board, his father’s face had been pinned to it.

  I chuckled at the face there now. “Donovan?” I wouldn’t mind throwing a dart or two at the man myself.

  Weston rose and came over to the board with me. Not bothering to remove the staples, he ripped the photo down. “He’s the most recent person I’ve been mad at, I guess. But I’m not really mad at him right now. Not really mad at anyone at the moment.”

  Not yet.

  “Lizzie…?” It was a repeat of the question he’d asked at his desk. Why was I here?

  He anchored his han
d on my cheek, and I was very aware that he knew something was off, that he wanted to fix it. I could feel his anxiety creeping up like a spider crawling on my pant leg.

  “What you did that day—letting me throw darts at my father’s face? I don’t know that I ever thanked you for that. It was sort of life-changing,” I said.

  “No, it wasn’t.”

  “It really was. And not just because you told me to throw darts at my father’s face, but because you got down on your knee and put a ring on my finger. Not because you loved me, but because you thought I was cool enough to fight the stupid demands of his will. And cool enough to give up your Friday nights to teach me basic business, knowledge that you spent a fortune to learn. All my life, I always thought I wasn’t the kind of girl who’d ever find someone who would want to give me that much attention.”

  His expression was baffled. “Are you kidding me? You were made to be worshipped.”

  “No one ever treated me like I was until you. Maybe that was my fault, because I hid behind my father, but that’s what started to change that day. I started to realize that I didn’t have to live in his shadow anymore. You did that for me. Pulled me into the sun. And I’m so grateful, Weston.”

  The words came out slower than I usually spoke. I was choked up saying them. But these were things I really wanted him to know, and what I’d said had only scratched the surface of the universe of gratitude that dwelled within me.

  But this was all I knew how to express. It would have to do.

  I put my hand over Weston’s and twisted my face to kiss his palm before I dropped my arm again.

  His eyes sparked as he rubbed his thumb along my cheek. “How come all this feels like something someone says when they’re about to die? Are you trying to tell me you’re dying, Lizzie?”

  Feels like it. “I’m not dying, you jerk. I’m grateful. You changed me. I wanted to be sure you knew.”

  “Okay. I know.” He still seemed hesitant. He wasn’t dumb. Then, after thinking a second, he added, “You’ve changed me too.”