“Okay. I can understand that. He is a difficult man. But why didn’t you come to see us after you left?”
“Because your father wanted me back, and I refused to be in a relationship with him.”
“So you cut ties with your children?”
“He told me he’d take you and Calista away from me if I tried to fight him in court. I had nothing, Lucas. There was no way I could have won.”
“Did you even try?”
“He was too powerful.”
“Why didn’t you attempt to see us again? Why did you just disappear from our lives?”
“It’s complicated, Lucas. The short answer is that I needed to put it all behind me. The thought of seeing you with your father . . . It hurt me too much.”
“It hurt you?” A rush of anger shot through me. “What about us? Didn’t you think Calista and I were hurting because we didn’t have a mother?”
She began to cry again. “You don’t know how hard it was for me, but I had to let you go. I had to move on with my life.”
“You left us with him.” I nearly choked on the words. “You thought he was evil, and you left us.”
“He would never hurt you. He only wanted to hurt me.”
I closed my eyes to gain control. A feeling of despair settled over me like a rain cloud hovering over a small town, threatening to let loose any second. “Sure, if that’s what you want to believe.”
“Lucas, please don’t take this the wrong way, but I can’t have contact with you. Your father may be monitoring you and if he finds me . . . I have two other children to think about.”
“You’ll protect them but you wouldn’t protect us?” I got out of my seat and paced next to the window. “I don’t understand this. I thought he forced you to leave, but you’re the one that left. How could you do that to us?”
“I’m sorry. I really am. But it couldn’t be helped. If you were in my place, you would have done the same thing.”
“No, I wouldn’t have,” I said, voice rising. “I would never have left my children with a man like him. You abandoned us.”
“Do not accuse me. I did my best. You had more than I had growing up.” Her voice grew almost hysterical. “I’m sure your life hasn’t been all that bad.”
I couldn’t say anything. My throat was dry and thick and the words wouldn’t form on my tongue.
“You have no idea how hard it was to walk away,” she said.
“Yeah, whatever.” I paused, glancing out the window. “Did you ever love us?”
“Of course I did. A mother doesn’t ever stop loving her children.”
“You just love them more. The new kids you replaced us with—they’re your priority now.”
“When you put it like that, you make me sound like a terrible person.” She started to cry again, but I didn’t feel bad for her. She’d left us, and she didn’t even care. “Lucas, this has to be our only conversation. Your father—”
“Don’t worry. I won’t call again.” I slammed the phone down and then gripped the sides of my head, pushing in like I could somehow smash it to pieces.
In ten seconds, I obliterated everything in sight. The folder with my mother’s information, the paperwork on my desk . . . I ripped it to shreds and anything else that was in the way. I picked up my chair and threw it across the room. It knocked against the wall and fell back hard onto the floor.
Several people came running and stood in the doorway, looking in at the mess and at me quickly unraveling.
“Are you okay, Mr. Armstrong?” Jenny asked in a panic. “What happened? Can I do something?”
I clenched my fists and heat rose to my face. No, I was not okay. No, there was nothing she could do.
Unless she could rewind time and give me a new mother.
And a new father for that matter—that would have been nice too.
I burst out of the room, past the growing line of onlookers, gawking at me as I left. The air was stifling. I needed fresh air so I could breathe. The roof had a patio, but it was office policy not to go up there for everyone’s safety. Fortunately, I had a key. I took the stairs two at a time and unlocked the door. Pushing it open, I sucked in the cool air.
On another day, I would have said the view was amazing. Tall skyscrapers filled in the space above and below. Vehicles moved on the streets, looking like tiny toy cars from where I stood. I drew closer to the edge of the building, my chest heaving up and down. My heart rate picked up, and the muscles in my back tensed.
I’d always pictured Mom as a drug addict, needing help, and getting the boot from Dad. The truth was that she’d left because she didn’t know how to fight for us. It was less complicated to just let us go. To start over with a new family.
The pain in my chest was so acute it hurt every time I inhaled.
It would be so easy to end it all right now.
I took a step closer to the edge. And another. And another. Until I couldn’t move forward anymore.
Until I was holding onto the railing so hard my knuckles turned white.
The door leading to the stairs slammed open and my father appeared at the top. His face was red, and his brows were crushed into angry slashes. “Lucas, get over here.”
I turned away, not able to look at him. If he hadn’t been so miserable to live with, maybe Mom would have stayed.
“Lucas William Armstrong, get over here now.”
I could do this. In a few seconds, it would all be over. A calm settled over me, and the pain began to subside. A feeling of numbness took over.
Dad strode towards me, his shoes slamming against the ground as he got closer.
“Lucas,” he said, his voice louder now. “Get away from the ledge. Think about what this will do to me. It’ll be on the news. Everyone will know. My reputation will be tarnished.” That was all he cared about—what it would do to him. “Go away. I don’t need you.”
“Your sister,” he said, almost in a panic. “Think what this will do to her.”
The image of Calista’s face, distraught and crying came to mind, and my body stilled.
It would kill her. He was right about that.
I closed my eyes and blew out a breath.
If I did this, I would be just as bad as Mom. Calista would have no one but my father. She would have to deal with him on her own.
“She adores you, Lucas. This will scar her for life.”
Calista had gone through enough. No matter how I felt, I had to think of her.
Before I could change my mind, I hastily turned around and brushed past Dad to the door. “You misunderstood my intentions. I was just looking at the view.”
Chapter 15
Lucas, Current Day
“No!” I sat up in bed with a start, breathing hard. Sweat dripped down the side of my forehead, and I clenched the sheet.
Still half-asleep, I tried to think why I’d just yelled out.
Dreams. Bad dreams. They’d lasted all through the night or at least appeared to.
I was a kid again, trying to get away from him. My father stood over me, his shadow looming like a dark specter, a belt in his hand. He was about to unleash his rage upon me. A rage that felt so real . . .
And then the image shifted to the roof of his building in New York City. The decision I’d almost made in a matter of seconds. The agony of finding out my mother had another family, and she didn’t want anything to do with me.
Somehow, my dreams changed, and the last thing that flashed through my head before I woke up was an image of Hillary and me at the altar, saying our vows. Do you take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?
An unsettled feeling swept over me. It seemed as if the air in my room was closing in on me, and I had to get out of there.
I swung my legs over the bed and got up, heading to the kitchen to get a drink of water. My body felt like it had been through the wringer. As if I’d jogged twenty miles and couldn’t get enough oxygen. Nausea twisted and curled in my stomach, and at the last second, I ra
n to the nearest bathroom and vomited. I leaned over the sink and turned the faucet on, splashing water all over my face and swishing it in my mouth to get out the awful taste. Walking back to the kitchen, I raked a hand through my unruly hair.
The dreams had been happening more often—ever since Dad told me I had to get married, or I’d lose everything.
It should be simple enough. Marry Hillary. Go our own separate ways. Once Dad was no longer around, get a divorce.
Why couldn’t I be okay with that?
I thought I had been.
Clearly, I was not.
I pulled out a glass and filled it with water from the refrigerator door. Sipping it, I closed my eyes and tried to calm the anxiety that seemed to be welling up, faster and faster, like an erupting geyser splashing to the surface.
In the distance, I heard something . . . the faint sound of music. My brows drew together. It sounded far away. I could just barely make it out.
What was that?
It didn’t sound like it was in the house, but there weren’t other homes or businesses in the vicinity.
I slipped outside and the sound grew louder, so I followed it to the side of the house. My home was surrounded by acres of green grass, and in the distance, a lone figure sat on the ground, playing the violin. Aria.
Blinking, I shook my head to clear it. Was I dreaming again? Or was this real?
The cool air blew against my face, reminding me that I was very much awake. What was she doing up at this hour?
I walked over to her and stopped a few feet away. “Aria.”
The breeze swept through us and it must have muffled my voice because she didn’t respond, didn’t seem to even notice I stood there watching her. Her eyes were closed, the violin tilted at the base of her neck, arm working the bow back and forth, fingers moving up and down over the strings. She was lost in the music, her head bobbing, black hair falling over one shoulder and swaying as she moved.
She was so beautiful it actually hurt to look at her. I couldn’t believe I’d thought she was average when I’d first met her. She was not average. At all.
I needed to say something else to get her attention, but I couldn’t. Watching her under the moonlight felt unreal. And at the same time, it grounded me. Brought me back to reality. The dreams had left a horrible aftertaste . . . But seeing Aria like this filled me with awe because there was so much peace surrounding her. It nudged at my heart. Left me almost breathless.
The music seemed to have a different effect on me tonight. The last time I’d heard her play, the song had been hyper and choppy and high-pitched. Tonight, it was slow and melancholy. Restful. Filled with longing and heart.
The way she moved when she played, the graceful curves of her body, the serene expression on her face—it left me yearning to reach out and pull her into my arms, touch her to know she wasn’t a figment of my imagination.
I knew it was wrong. I shouldn’t be watching her like this without her knowing, but . . . I couldn’t stop myself.
Slowly, the song came to an end.
She opened her eyes.
And then she screamed.
Aria
As soon as the scream left my mouth, I realized who it was. “Lucas, you scared me. I didn’t hear you walk up.”
“Sorry.” He stared at me with this dazed look, almost as if he was seeing me for the first time. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”
“I woke you, didn’t I? I’m so sorry.”
He’d made it clear he didn’t want me to play my instrument when he was around, but I thought I’d get away with it while he was asleep, especially if I stayed outside. I’d spent all my time cleaning while he’d been out for the day, and my fingers had longed to touch my violin. My music—it was like a part of me, and it was hard to give up. When I’d woken up in the middle of the night and couldn’t go back to sleep, I’d taken the violin outdoors and played, getting lost in the melody.
“You didn’t wake me up.” He looked troubled: eyes dark and haunted by something, shoulders stiff, hair in disarray. He wore pajama pants and a white t-shirt that stretched across his muscular chest, and he was incredibly good-looking. The man didn’t appear to look bad under any circumstances, but something was off. He didn’t seem himself.
“Are you okay?” My eyes lingered on the lines drooping from his mouth. “You seem bothered by something.”
His hand swiped through his hair on the back of his head and stayed there. “I . . . I just couldn’t sleep. Do you mind if I sit here while you play?”
My head jerked back in surprise. “Really? I thought you hated—”
“I shouldn’t have said that the other day. I wasn’t feeling well.”
“All right. If you want, you can have a seat.”
He plopped down beside me and stared out in the distance, appearing lost in thought. Concerned. Pained.
I wanted to press him for information. Had something happened? Maybe things with Hillary didn’t work out.
My chest tightened because the thought of him being distraught over her sparked a jealous side I didn’t like. So stupid. There was nothing between us. But I couldn’t shake the desire to know this man better.
I picked up my violin and played a slow, soothing song. He seemed to need soothing right now, and the instinct to comfort him was almost overpowering. More powerful than anything I’d felt in a long time.
We sat like that for a while, neither of us saying a word, and I played a collection of songs I knew would help him relax.
Twenty minutes or more must have passed before he finally turned to me. “Aria, do you remember when we met at Coastal Heritage Museum?”
I held back a grin. “It wasn’t that long ago.”
He tried to smile, but it was as if a dark cloud hovered over him and wouldn’t allow him to. “I know.” He was quiet for another minute before he spoke again. “That evening, I was looking at a painting by Fernando Ortega. It was of a man on top of a building, viewing the cityscape all around him.”
“I think I remember seeing that one.”
“It shook me up, Aria.”
I put my violin down and turned towards him. “Why?”
“About eight years ago, I got devastating news about my mother, and it nearly broke me. I headed up to the roof of my father’s building and . . . and . . .” He trailed off. “Let’s just say it was a difficult time in my life. In the last few years, I tried to put it out of my head, but that painting . . . It wouldn’t let me forget.” His eyes met mine. “And then I saw you standing there, your beautiful hair falling over your shoulders like it is right now. There was something about you that night—you were like an angel. You caught my attention, distracted me from my thoughts. I felt drawn to you in a way I’ve never felt drawn to anyone.”
My heartbeat increased like a steady drum. What did he mean by that? Drawn to me as a friend? As more than that? He’d told me before that he liked me and that I was a distraction. But it was hard to imagine a man like him being interested in someone like me. Not that I wasn’t attractive—plenty of people had called me pretty over the years—but I was a nobody. Just a girl with no family, barely making it in this world.
I didn’t want to deceive myself by thinking someone like him felt anything for me when he could have drop-dead-gorgeous women like Alexa Covington. Well, Alexa had broken up with him, and she was now with Dylan. But she was stunning, and that was the type of woman he’d been with. Hillary was probably just as breathtaking.
To be honest, I felt drawn to Lucas as well, though I would never voice my thoughts on the matter. I couldn’t let my heart go there. It was important that I kept a close watch over my feelings, or I would quickly lose sight of why I was here in the first place.
And just in case he had meant he was drawn to me as more than a friend . . . Maybe I needed to clarify so he didn’t get the wrong idea. The last thing I wanted was to hurt or mislead him.
I reached over and touched his arm. “I know I work for you, bu
t I want to be your friend.” There. That should make things clear.
His eyes flickered with something. Tenderness, maybe? “I’d like that.” He put his hand over mine and kept it there for several seconds.
He didn’t seem disappointed with my statement, which meant he really had only wanted friendship. I was confusing myself out here in the tropics, under the moon, sitting next to the most handsome man I’d ever seen in my life.
Obviously, he only wanted friendship.
“Now that we’ve settled that we’re friends,” I said. “I’ll share something as well.” I was quiet for a few moments, drawing the memory from the archives of my brain. “Remember when I told you I was homeless?”
He nodded, his expression darkening at my words.
“There was this one night when I begged God to take me.” I glanced at him, and his eyes were attentive, waiting for me to share my story.
“What happened?” he asked.
“I was curled up behind a dumpster off of 5th Street. It was in the back of a restaurant, so I felt relatively safe, but I probably shouldn’t have, considering the area. The shelters were all full, and maybe I could have found one on the other side of town, but I was just so tired. Foolishly, I thought I could find a place to curl up and it would be fine, but it was anything but fine. I was fearful of rats and insects, so I wrapped my arms around my legs, too stiff to get any sleep. It was miserable, and all I could think about was how alone I was.”
I glanced up at Lucas to gauge his response. He listened, giving me his full attention, and there was no judgment in his eyes. My hands moved restlessly over the grass. It was a hard memory to share, but I felt like it would help him.
“My father had died from a heart attack,” I said, “my brother was missing, and there I was, smelling stinky trash and crying my eyes out.” I blew out a breath and waited a few seconds to gather my thoughts. “It started to rain, and the water was pounding down on my head and face, washing my tears away. I felt pitiful, but even more so, I was angry with the Lord. I remember saying, ‘Why God? You’re supposed to protect me. Can’t you even stop the rain? Do I mean so little to You that You won’t even do that?’”
The Ruthless Billionaire: A Clean Billionaire Romance (California Elite) Page 11
