Rebecca blushes and I reluctantly drop my hands from her. It seems like every time we get a moment alone, it doesn’t seem to last. I watch as she straightens out her dress and grabs the tray of cookies from the countertop. Tristan holds open the door that divides the kitchen and dining room for her as she heads out.
“Nick, next time you might want to wait until your dad and sister are gone before you seduce your assistant,” he winks.
“Have I ever told you that you’re an asshole?”
Tristan laughs. “Love you, too, buddy.”
My father’s gaze glides over me as I enter the dining room carrying a pitcher of milk. Without saying a word, I sense a strange tension emitting off of him. His glance sways to Rebecca and then back toward me. Panic filters through my chest, as his face turns red. He’s angry. I set down the milk next to Emily and take a seat on the opposite side of my father. His eyes never stray from mine.
“Nick, you’re not going to have any of these cookies?” Emily asks.
“He’s already had his dessert,” Tristan says, piping in. From the corner of my eye I can see Rebecca’s cheeks flaming red at his words. Fuck.
“Nicholas, can I speak with you in private?” My father clears his throat and the room goes completely silent as all eyes turn to me. I watch as he rises from his chair and exits the dining room in a few quick strides. Tristan stares after him in shock before turning toward me with an apologetic frown. I expected to speak with my father about my feelings for Rebecca, but I wasn’t prepared for him to figure it out on his own.
I find my father standing inside my study, surveying the stacks of books I’ve collected over the years for my own personal library. He turns as I step into the room, and the look on his face is enough to tell me that this conversation is not going to end well.
“What’s going on with you two?” father asks, glaring at me with suspicion.
The words hang in the air for several minutes before I’m able to put my scattered thoughts together. I’ve been waiting more than two weeks to speak with him, and now I have my chance.
“I love her,” I confess. There it is. The words I’ve been longing to say to her, except here I am confessing them to my father. He stares back at me in confusion as if the thought of my loving someone never occurred to him.
“You can’t be in love with your assistant, Nicholas. You’re engaged to Alison Price.” He paces the room as if trying to grasp what’s been going on around him, stopping only to shake his head in exasperation.
“I’m only engaged to Alison because you forced me into it. I have no desire whatsoever to marry her.”
“Nicholas, this is ridiculous. If you told me you had an affair with your assistant, I would understand. But you’re not breaking off your engagement over this,” he says, throwing up his hands.
“Even if she makes me happy?”
“Alison could make you just as happy if you let her. Do you even know if Rebecca feels the same way about you? You’re risking an awful lot for a woman you barely know.”
It’s true. I haven’t known Rebecca as long as I’ve known Alison, but I’ve been around Gellar enough to know that I’m crazy about her. Maybe I’m an idiot and this is all one colossal mistake, but I’m taking a risk on someone that would make me happy and that I could make happy.
“Here’s what it comes down to, son. Either you marry Ms. Price, or I will disinherit you, and you will lose any claim you have over this company.”
The cruelty of his words sends my head into a tailspin. The loving father who used to play Moonlight Sonata for us as children is gone, replaced by the cold and unyielding man standing in front of me. Perhaps my mother is to blame for his destructive attitude on life, or maybe this is just the result of his love for money.
“I’ll give you until the new year to decide. And Nick, just remember that your life isn’t the only one being affected by this choice.”
He leaves without another word, and it isn’t until I hear the front door slam that reality sinks in. I just gave him ample reason to fire Rebecca. His words plague me as I stand inside my study. If Rebecca doesn’t feel the same way about me, I just ruined her career. And if she does, I’m about to lose everything I’ve worked for these past five years. I never thought loving someone would cost so much.
Awkward. It’s the only word that comes to mind the moment Tristan walks in on our heated embrace, and what’s even worse are the words that come tumbling from his mouth when we sit back down in the dining room. I know they’re meant as a jest, but from the abrupt way Nicholas’s father leaves the room, they must have triggered something in his mind. Or maybe my expression gave something away. Nicholas has a way of affecting me even without my consent. The angry glare that flooded his father’s face left me with a feeling of suffocation. I’m afraid to know what is going through his head. It can’t be good.
Alison’s words come rushing back to me: ‘I’ll make sure you don’t ever work at any other publishing company in New York again.’ Did she tell him something? Perhaps my presence was just confirmation of his suspicions. Either way, I shouldn’t have come here. There isn’t a work-related explanation as to why I’m here tonight. In reality, I just wanted to return the gift Nicholas bought me before going home. While it’s lovely, it’s not something you give to a woman who's just supposed to be your assistant. And it’s certainly not something you give to a woman who isn’t your fiancée, at least not in my mind. In the kitchen, I let my emotions get the better of me. After hearing about Nicholas’s mother, I couldn’t help but feel an overwhelming sense of loss for him. I understand now why the holidays seem to be so difficult for him and his family.
Even after so many years, it seems the wounds he carries are still fresh. It’s a startling reminder that I need to keep my guard up. Wounds aren’t so easily healed. Not when your heart is involved.
“What’s going on?” Emily asks, looking over at Tristan. The muffled voices coming from Nicholas’s study increase in volume by the second. I’m thankful I can’t make out the content of their conversation, although from the look on Tristan’s face it’s undoubtedly about me.
“I’m not sure.” He glances toward me.
“I think I should get going,” I say. “It’s getting late.” I don’t know Tristan as well as Nicholas, but I’m pretty sure he doesn’t want to say anything in front of me.
“I’ll drive you home,” he says, standing.
“Thank you.”
“It was lovely meeting you, Rebecca.” Emily slips several cookies into a plastic container and hands it to me. “I hope to see you soon.”
“She’s coming to my gallery opening.” Tristan flashes me a dazzling grin. “Aren’t you?”
“I am,” I say, mustering half of a smile. Emily’s arms wrap around me as she gives me a quick but hearty embrace. The welcoming warmth that radiates from her fills me with a strange sense of comfort. I’ve always been disappointed at being the only child in my family. My parents had me and I guess they were satisfied with one kid, although I think it would’ve been nice to have a sister, or even a brother. I can only imagine how fun it must’ve been growing up with older brothers like Nicholas and Tristan.
At the front door, Emily helps me slip on my coat. We’re nearly out the door when the sound of Nicholas’s father’s voice startles the three of us. The door of the study swings open and I turn to find him striding toward us. Stefan stops in front of me, as if ready to say something, but instead he swiftly kisses his daughter goodnight and nods a goodbye to us before rushing out the door. I flush at the awkward scene before me. He must know now. And if he does, I’m surprised he didn’t fire me on the spot. Maybe the conversation was related to something else. I know I’m being naïve, but I’m still hopeful that I’m right.
My gaze drifts back toward Nicholas’s study and my heart nearly crumbles at the sight of him hunched over his chair with his head in his hands. An intense pang shoots through my chest, rendering me breathless. I want to go t
o him, but it would be a tragic mistake for both us. Emily clears her throat, excusing herself as she walks to Nicholas in the next room.
“Tristan, could you take me home now?” I ask. He looks at me with a questioning gaze before reluctantly nodding yes.
As soon as Tristan grabs his coat and key, I practically sprint out the door to get away from the scene inside. The ride home from Nicholas's apartment is silent, with the exception of the classical music Tristan plays in the background of the car. Several times I catch his glance swaying over toward me before finally returning to the wet streets in front of us. The anxiety he radiates is nearly palpable, and it eats away at my soul. He doesn’t understand what’s happening between Nicholas and me, and I can sense his disappointment at choosing to leave rather than staying to talk to Nick about what happened between him and his father. I should’ve stayed with him, but I just can’t get any more involved.
Back at home, I find a voice message from Miles waiting for me on my cellphone. His tone in the voicemail seems impatient, even agitated. I haven’t bothered answering any of his texts. I don’t see the point in talking to him when I have no desire to revive what we had, but it hasn’t stopped him from trying to contact me.
Becca, where are you? I’ve tried calling you several times. I’ve even stopped by the apartment but you’re either gone, or working. I need to see you. Can we get together over Christmas? Maybe we can go see the Rockefeller Center Christmas Tree? You used to talk about wanting to go there. Call me.
Three days later…
Emily walks into my study with a worried expression fixed across her face. I haven’t left my apartment in what seems like decades. In fact, I’m resolved to spending the rest of my life reading in my library, as long at the liquor cabinet is replenished, but Emily seems to have other plans for me. She’s been trying to get me to eat and she refuses to leave me alone, despite my reassuring her that I’m perfectly fine. I guess the several glasses of whiskey aren’t very comforting.
She winces at the sight of me splayed out across my leather couch. I must look like I feel. A fucking mess. She sets down the tray of food and takes a seat next to my feet. She stares at me as she waits for me to acknowledge her.
“Nick?”
“Yeah, Em?” I roll to my side as a wave of nausea rushes over me.
“Why are you torturing yourself? What did dad say?”
I turn toward her, and the sight of her sad expression hurts like hell. My sister is lucky; she’s yet to experience the cruelty of my father’s expectations. He’s always been so lenient with Emily. She chose to major in Journalism at NYU, and my father didn’t bat an eyelash.
“He gave me an ultimatum. He said if I don’t marry Alison, then he’ll disinherit me.”
“This is probably a dumb question, but you don’t love her, do you?”
“It’s not dumb, but no. No, I don’t.”
“Is there someone else?” she asks, hopeful.
“Yes,” I groan. “You met her the other night.”
A funny little smile plays across her lips. “Your assistant? I thought so.”
“Is it that obvious?” I slowly sit up, hoping the new position will help alleviate the growing ache in my head. Emily gives me a quick hug and a grin frames her mouth as she pushes back my messy locks of hair.
“You look at her the way Alex used to look at Nina.”
My brother would probably be so disappointed in me right now. He worked with my father to build StoneHaven Publishing, and now we might lose one of our biggest investors because of me.
“Stop it,” Emily says, nudging my shoulder.
“Stop what?”
“I can hear you blaming yourself.”
“How can I not?”
“I don’t want dad to disinherit you, but you should be able to love whomever you want. If she’s worth the risk of losing everything, you should ask her to marry you.”
“I think you’ve just always wanted a sister, even if she’s just a sister-in-law,” I laugh, groaning inwardly at the building pressure spreading across my forehead.
Emily giggles. “Well I can’t deny that. It would be nice having another female in the family to talk to.”
"I'm sure the two of you would get along well."
"She seems really nice and if she makes you happy, that's all that really matters. I think you guys look good together."
"The problem is she won't have me." The thought of Rebecca rejecting me sends a surge of dread through me. Over the past few days, I’ve convinced myself that maybe it’s better if I keep my distance from her. Since I’ve met Rebecca, she’s been pushing me away. I know the situation with Alison has probably had a large hand in that, but I can’t help but think that maybe she doesn’t feel the same way about me as I do her. Could my father be right about her? I’ve never been one to doubt myself with women, and yet I find myself doubting every step I take with Rebecca.
"You'll never know, unless you ask her."
An hour later I find myself wandering by the front of Tiffany's, contemplating my future and the woman I'm desperate to have be a part of it. If I asked Rebecca to marry me and she says yes, then I'm destined to start my life all over again. While that means being cut-off financially from the company and my family, it doesn't mean we'll be desolate. I learned enough from my father to invest in companies that are worthwhile. In fact, if I wanted to, I could start my own independent publishing company. Of course, it would be miniscule compared to my father's empire, but all companies have to start somewhere. The alternative is living the life my father has mandated for me, and marrying a woman that I feel absolutely nothing for.
“Good evening, Mr. StoneHaven.” A young, blonde associate greets met at the front of the sleek gray Tiffany & Co. building. Her broad smile widens, telling me that she’s more than just a little excited to be helping me. I can only guess what kind of commission she makes on engagement rings. When I spoke with her over the phone and she heard me say my name, she practically squealed with excitement.
“Thank you for staying open late.”
“Of course, we’re more than willing to go out of our way for our customers.” Her eyes trail over me with an uncomfortable degree of interest. "My name is Stephanie and I will be the one assisting you tonight.”
“Perfect. I’m here to purchase an engagement ring for my fiancée.”
“Is there a specific cut you’re interested in?”
“I was leaning toward an emerald-cut.” After doing some quick research online, I'm convinced that an emerald-cut diamond would be the perfect shape for Rebecca. She seems to be a fan of old-fashioned styles, and I think it would suit her beautifully.
“A very elegant choice. Let me show you the different types we have on display,” she says, leading me toward the back of the store.
After an hour of looking at rings, we’ve narrowed my selection down to two different rings. The first is platinum solitaire with a large emerald–cut center diamond. The second is an emerald-cut center diamond with a diamond border and several diamonds running down the sides of the band. I’m starting to regret not asking my sister to come choose the ring with me. She probably has a better grasp on which ring a woman would want more.
“Is your fiancée the flashy type?” Stephanie asks.
“No, she’s hard not to notice, but she doesn’t purposely draw attention to herself.”
“Can I make a recommendation then?” Stephanie asks.
“Of course.”
“Take the first one. The emerald cut is simple but classic with a single platinum band. You can’t go wrong,” she says, winking.
“Actually, I think it would be great if I had my assistant come to your store after the holiday and take a look at the rings. I would love if you could get her opinion on them.”
“Of course, we would be more than happy to.”
I leave the store feeling hopeful that when I ask Rebecca to marry me, she'll say yes. I don't think I can go back to my life if she do
esn't.
Over Christmas, Miles calls me several times before finally getting the hint that I'm not interested in seeing him. Or at least it seems that way until he shows up at the apartment on Saturday night, drunk and staggering. To my dismay, Carol is out shopping for groceries when I find him waiting outside, mumbling to himself.
The shameless smile on his face tells me he's more than forgotten the incident that happened the last time I saw him, but I can’t say the same. He pushes his way inside my apartment before I have a chance to tell him to leave.
"Hey, baby, it's good to see you again," he says as he sways slightly toward me.
"Miles, what are you doing here? I need you to leave. Now." He resists me as I try to push him back out the door. A panic creeps over my skin. I’ve been alone for the last half hour and Carol still isn’t back. She said she would be in and out of the store. “Please. Go.”
"You're only saying that because that other asshole is trying to get in between us." His words run into each other in one long slur.
"There is no us," I say, exasperated. His eyes perk in surprise at my anger.
"Do you think you could be happy with him?" Miles stalks toward me and he grabs my waist in a painful grip. It’s not the loving touch that I’m used to feeling when Nicholas puts his hands on me.
“Carol will be here any moment, and if I don’t call the police, she will,” I warn.
“I just want to talk. You’ve been avoiding me for the past several weeks and your boyfriend has banned me from visiting you at work.”
“He had every reason to,” I fire back.
“So he is your boyfriend?” Miles smirks at me. “I bet you didn’t see him sticking his tongue down another woman’s throat.”
I flinch at his words. “What are you talking about?”
Mile sneers at me as he removes a folded up article from his jacket. “I saved it because I thought you might need proof that he doesn’t give a shit about you.” He hands me the clipping and I unfold it to find a picture of Alison and Nicholas kissing at a restaurant. My eyes water at their passionate embrace and the way Alison’s hands are wrapped around Nicholas’s neck. Miles is wrong. It’s not just some woman. It’s his fiancée. There’s nothing wrong with this picture, besides the fact that I wish it was me with him, not her.
Bound to You: Volume 3 Page 8
