A wave of nausea filled my stomach, and I bent over slightly, feeling as if I might vomit. My father had been behind everything. It wasn’t surprising though the thought made bile rise in the back of my throat.
The dissolution of the restaurant. The stress that led to her father’s heart attack. The responsibility rested on my father’s shoulders and now mine by default. Worse of all, Aria and Chase had been thrust into foster care and were separated from one another as a result of my father’s actions.
This woman who had begun to mean something to me would hate me if she ever found out my family was responsible for her family’s demise.
I could never tell her, but if I didn’t, what kind of man would that make me?
Shaking my head, I groaned. Who was I kidding? It wasn’t as if I could claim to be an honest businessman who cared about people. When had that ever been a priority in my life? I’d made more than a few shady deals like that myself.
I was my father’s son after all.
And he trained me well.
The thought sickened me, and for once, I wished I’d been born into a simple family, one where money wasn’t involved. Where love took precedence over everything else, including the need for power and control.
But God had seen fit to put me right where I was. Maybe this was His idea of a sick joke. The one person who had come to mean something to me was the exact person who would hate me once she knew the part my family played in her suffering.
She would leave, just like everyone else had. They all left. Every. Single. One.
That we had done this to her made me ill. My knees buckled, and I gripped the top of my dresser. I had to make it right somehow.
And I had to tell her. Keeping it from her would only perpetuate the wrong.
I cared about her enough to know I couldn’t do that.
Still, the whole business made me shaky inside. I would tell her but not yet. In a couple of weeks, we’d have to leave and I’d have to hunt down the next woman on my father’s list.
Until then, I just wanted to enjoy the island. Enjoy the last few days I had with Aria. I’d make them the best two weeks of her life.
And then I’d give her the bad news.
Chapter 19
Aria
After showering, I dressed and prepared to go out for dinner. A week had passed since the debacle with Hillary, and we were all doing our best to put it out of our minds. Lucas seemed content with forgetting about it, but I still felt bad for being in the middle.
I wore a simple yellow sundress and put my hair up in a messy bun. Lucas had invited Sam and me to join him at a beachside restaurant this evening, and, despite the fact that I wanted to go, nervous butterflies rolled around in my stomach like they were doing somersaults just to tick me off.
The more time I spent with Lucas, the more time I wanted with him.
This trip would be coming to a close soon, and I was both relieved and saddened by that knowledge. I felt like a greedy baby grasping for her bottle when she should be eating mashed peas instead. Lucas was all I could think about these days, and it terrified me because our friendship could not go further than it already had.
Boundaries were there to keep us safe. I just needed to make sure neither of us crossed one of those boundaries again.
A permanent ache had developed in my chest, and I knew I should have kept better watch over my feelings for him. If I had, I wouldn’t be in this position, longing for the next moment he walked into the room and started a conversation or invited Sam and me to spend the day with him in some outdoor activity. In the past week, he’d taken us both on a catamaran around the Na Pali Coast, an inner tube ride down a river, and, yesterday, we went zip lining through a beautiful meadow. It had me shaking in my boots, so to speak, but it was a lot of fun. There had been hikes to local waterfalls and luaus and more trips to the ocean.
Ever since last week when Lucas kissed me on the shores of Ke’e Beach, he’d made sure Sam was with us wherever we went like he was our chaperone. And that was a good thing. I think we’d both sensed it was necessary.
Even though I knew I shouldn’t dwell on it, my mind wandered frequently to that day at Ke’e. The way he’d pulled me close and kissed me like there was a drought, and I was the only water he had left. The way I had responded to his kiss and then pushed him away.
I had to be careful when I was around him. It was as if he was a magnet, and I was powerless to resist his pull. But whatever was developing between us—it couldn’t happen.
I finished getting ready by putting on a layer of pink lip gloss and then strode out to the living room where Lucas and Sam were already waiting.
They both stood to their feet, and Sam smiled playfully. “It’s always worth it when a pretty lady makes the men in her life wait. You look lovely.”
“Thank you, Sam.” I smiled and then brought my gaze to Lucas.
He was less playful—almost brooding, moody. His hands were in his pockets, eyes trained on me like he was memorizing everything about me. Intense. Watchful. Even a little frustrated.
“We should go,” he said, expression darkening.
I didn’t care that he hadn’t complimented my appearance. His eyes said all I needed to know. They flickered with want, desire, the same passion I’d seen that day at Ke’e Beach. It was hard to be in the same room when he looked at me like that.
Like I was everything he wanted, and at the same time, everything he despised. Or maybe it was that he despised himself for wanting me.
Whatever it was, it was confusing.
We headed to the car, and Lucas took the front seat with Sam as he’d been prone to do lately. Something was bothering Lucas this evening, but I wasn’t sure what. He seemed more distant, like his thoughts were elsewhere—on something unpleasant.
We ate dinner and talked about Sam’s grandkids. He had a lot of funny stories to share with us about crazy things they’d done. Things like their mother finding them on the floor of the kitchen with flour all over their hands and faces. I laughed so hard at some of the tales my belly hurt, but it was the good kind of belly ache.
Lucas was quiet most of the time, but he was attentive and nodded or made a comment here or there.
Sometimes I felt his eyes on me and my pulse would increase its rhythm.
Sometimes I wondered if there were lasers in those pupils of his, turning my insides to liquid every time he looked at me.
Sometimes I wondered how much longer I could do this. It was getting harder and harder to deal with.
The thought of going home nearly brought me to tears.
But the thought of staying under his watchful eye and not being able to do anything except keep him at arm’s length, it was almost too painful to bear.
I’d shared with him about the Lord on a few occasions, and he’d been attentive. He’d mostly listened and hadn’t said a word. I didn’t know what was going through his head or what he believed about the gospel and salvation. He’d kept his thoughts to himself, except for the one time he’d told me he was beyond forgiveness. I’d assured him that wasn’t the case, but he didn’t seem to believe me.
All I knew, was that something had to change soon because I couldn’t go on like this much longer.
When dinner was over, we headed out to the car, and Lucas cleared his throat. “Would both of you like to take a walk on the beach? I don’t feel like heading back home yet.”
Sam hesitated. “Actually, I was going to ask if I could do a few errands. I want to purchase souvenirs for my kids and grandkids, but I haven’t had the opportunity. Would that be okay?”
“Sure,” Lucas said. “How much time do you need?”
“An hour. Maybe two.”
My eyes widened. Two hours alone with Lucas? A part of me wanted to signal to Sam that he shouldn’t leave us while the other part couldn’t wait to grab whatever time was given to us.
Lucas glanced at me quickly and turned back to Sam. “Take your time. Aria and I will take a walk
on the beach . . . maybe stop at a local hangout to have a drink. Meet us back here in two hours.”
Sam nodded and got in the car. I watched him drive out of the parking lot, my heart picking up speed as I felt Lucas’s eyes on me again.
“Come on.” He tipped his chin towards the water. “There’s something I’d like to talk with you about.”
We both took off our shoes and headed out to the sand. It was still warm from the heat of the day, and it squished between my toes. The rhythmic crashing of the waves was both soothing and invigorating as we walked along the wet part of the beach where the water rolled in. We were close enough to get our feet wet but not so close the water splashed up to our knees.
“I’d like to ask you something,” Lucas said, appearing almost troubled.
“Sure, go ahead.”
“When you were in foster care, were you treated well?” He turned to look at me as if to assess my reaction to his question. “Were your foster parents nice to you?”
I looked away, wondering what had sparked a question like that. “I was never abused if that’s what you’re asking.”
“But were they nice to you?”
“Some were. Others were too busy with work and other commitments to pay much attention.”
“How many homes were you in?”
“Four.”
“That’s a lot of moves.”
“A lot of foster kids get moved way more than that.”
“Why were you moved each time?”
“The first home I went to was with Vera, a single foster mom, and she and I clicked really well. She made me feel at home—like her house was my house. She had two extra bedrooms, but what I didn’t know was that she wanted to adopt a baby. Apparently, she’d taken Chase and me in because the social worker pleaded with her to help out. But as soon as a baby was available, we had to go.”
“Couldn’t you and the baby share the same room?”
I shook my head. “State licensing has rules about that. A teen can’t share the room with a baby unless it’s a mom with her own child. There are exceptions, but the criteria didn’t fit in my situation.” I nibbled on my bottom lip. “The baby could have stayed in Vera’s room, but she felt it would be too hard to deal with an infant and two teens, so she gave notice on us.”
“And that’s when you and Chase were separated?”
I nodded. “Yeah.”
“What about the second home?”
“Why the interest in my background all of a sudden?”
He ran a hand through his hair and appeared to consider. “I just want to know what it was like for you.” He looked pained and I sensed he wasn’t telling me something. “I’m interested in your life.”
His eyes were sincere, concerned. I realized at that moment that I trusted Lucas. Even though he’d said on more than a few occasions that he wasn’t a nice guy, his actions during this trip had proven otherwise. Not that I didn’t take him at his word, but, clearly, there was another side to him. He treated Sam and me more like friends than employees, and he’d always been fair, as Sam had mentioned in the beginning. In fact, he’d never been critical of either one of us. And then there was that last thing that happened a week ago. He’d refused to fire me when Hillary had demanded it. That had cost him. I knew it had.
I never heard him speak of friendships, and I had to wonder how many friends he actually had. It made me sad to think he might not have others he could rely on. I didn’t normally tell people my story, but his questions seemed to be a way of reaching out.
“I had to leave the second home because the foster parents decided fostering wasn’t for them. I didn’t hold it against them—they had some difficult kids at the time.”
“And the third home?”
“They had a teenage son a year older than me who kept making advances towards me—pushed me up against a wall one time and wouldn’t let me go. I was so scared, I nearly peed my pants.” I laughed, but it sounded strained. “I kneed him in the groin and got away. You should have seen . . .” I trailed off when I glanced at Lucas.
An expression of rage had crossed his face, and, for a second, he reminded me of an avenging angel, beautiful and scary all at once, ready to execute justice on anyone who brought pain into my life. “Did he hurt you?” He asked, quietly, just barely above a whisper.
“What?”
“I said, did he ever hurt you?” He was louder this time, his fists opening and closing, emotion rolling off of him in waves. It was similar to his response on the plane when he’d found out I’d been homeless.
He cared.
Maybe a little too much.
“No. He tried it one more time after that, and I poked him in the eyes so hard he started bleeding.” I cleared my throat. “When I told the foster parents, they didn’t believe me. They took his side—said I’d attacked him for no reason. In their eyes, their son could do no wrong, and I was just a manipulative teenage girl who didn’t know how to tell the truth. I told the social worker as well, but the foster parents convinced her I was lying because I liked a boy at another school. They said I wanted to leave their home to be closer to him.”
“That’s crazy.”
“Yeah, they got that from their son, and he made it up.”
Lucas shook his head. “How did you get out of there?”
“At first, my social worker told me I had to work things out with them, but I couldn’t sleep at night knowing their son was in the room across the hall. I started misbehaving and became so defiant they didn’t want me there any longer.” I cleared my throat. “I was moved to another home, and it turned out to be a stable place for me. I stayed with that family for the rest of my time in foster care, and they helped me prepare for college entrance exams and made me feel welcome in their home. They had three of their own kids, and they were all very sweet. I still keep in touch with them once in a while.” I brought my hands behind my back as we continued walking. “The foster mom’s name was Ann. She had some quirks—she was deathly afraid of flying. I guess that’s where I got my fear from. But she was always kind to me.”
Lucas went from appearing slightly troubled to a full-blown expression of distress. “Do you ever wonder what it would be like if your father hadn’t died and you weren’t pushed into state care?”
My breath caught in my throat. “All the time. I picture the faces of my dad and brother in my mind’s eye, and I long to see them again—touch their faces and give them a hug. A couple of those foster families were kind to me, but it was never the same as having my father and brother around. If something had happened to me, those parents might have been sad, sure. But they wouldn’t have grieved like I was their child.” I wiped a tear from one eye. “Sometimes I felt like no one really loved me. Some liked me—but love was a completely different thing.”
Lucas reached out and took my hand, folding it into his own, firm and secure. “I know what that’s like.”
My head snapped up. “You do?”
Chapter 20
Aria
Lucas stared out at the ocean, his expression stoic and grim as if he could withstand the weight of the world by holding up a strong front.
“I know my sister loves me,” he said, “but we’ve never confided in each other, and I wouldn’t say we’re friends. My family never expressed affection, never spent time together. Even so, Calista was always loyal to me. She always tried to intercede when my father . . .” He let out a heavy breath and changed the subject. “I’m sorry you’ve had a hard life, Aria. I wish I could’ve prevented those things from happening to you.” He looked troubled again, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that he was still holding something back.
I wanted him to talk about his father because I sensed there was pain there, but I didn’t want to press too much, so I kept my next question general. “Tell me more about your family. Were there ever moments of happiness?”
He flinched. I’d become adept at picking up on body language—it was a survival skill I’d learned
while in foster care and also when I’d lived on the streets. Something had happened to Lucas. Something so deep and so painful it was taking everything he had right now to hold it in. His breathing grew labored and his eyes were almost tortured.
“It’s okay,” I said. “If you don’t want to talk about it . . .”
“I think I need to talk about it. I’ve never confided in anyone, but you’re the first person I’ve met who I know will understand.” He swallowed. And then he swallowed again. He stopped walking, and we stood there for a long moment. “My father was physically abusive when I was a kid.” He ducked his head as if ashamed. “He beat me. A lot. It stopped when I grew older and could stand up to him, but the verbal abuse never went away.”
When he looked at me, his jaw was tight. Sharing this wasn’t easy for him. I wanted to reach out to him, but I sensed he just needed me to listen.
“He used to come home late at night after having a few drinks. He’d take out his belt and lash out at me. It was always for little things I’d done like forgetting to put my shoes in my room or not making my bed. I think he looked for excuses to hit me.”
“Lucas, no one should ever have to go through that.”
“I know, but he threatened to hurt me if I told anyone.” He started walking again, and I followed, close to his side. “This one time he threw me against the wall, and I fell and broke my arm. Before he took me to the hospital, he told me that if I said anything, he’d hunt down the doctor I told and kill him.”
I gasped. “Are you serious?”
He nodded. “He had the resources to do it. I understood that even at twelve years old. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if my father has had people killed before. I’m not aware of any plans he made, but he’s cunning and shrewd. He could have easily kept things like that from me.” His lower lip trembled. “I would never do something like that, and you can bet I would never raise a hand to someone weaker than myself, but I’m a lot like him, Aria.”
The Ruthless Billionaire: A Clean Billionaire Romance (California Elite) Page 15
