He pressed a hand over his eyes. He hadn’t been able to manufacture even the shoddiest excuse, because no justification would have been true.
The largesse in inviting the entire congregation back to consume the reception food and drink had been a master stroke by the old man too. Even if Logan could have talked Victoria into giving him a chance, to wait for an explanation at a later date when it wouldn’t matter that she found out the truth, facing all those people would be daunting. Memories were very long. And Victoria was so damn sensitive when it came to men. He had labored intensely to gain her trust and had been forced to break it today. The idea of patricide flitted in and out of his thoughts as his mother spoke again.
“I called her mother,” his mom said. “All she could tell me is that Victoria nearly collapsed, but then she rallied and is moving in some new direction. I could tell it upset Margaret.”
Fuck. It upset him, and that was putting it mildly. His woman was strong—and resilient. But he knew her personal history. The look in her eyes when he’d called off their wedding and hadn’t explained why—there was no point in tormenting himself in the daytime. He’d have enough nightmares to keep him company, and he’d be sleeping alone. Whatever Victoria was embarking on wouldn’t bode well for their relationship. He snorted. What relationship? He’d destroyed that with a few words. Or lack of them.
The sight of her veil lying in the street, a forlorn drift of fabric barely anchored by the delicate tiara she’d picked in honor of all the little princesses in their lives, would haunt him forever. It hadn’t withstood the big tires of the limo taking his father to the reception, nor the other vehicles that followed. Logan thought his chest would crack open when he’d retrieved only the bent and battered headpiece, the veil beyond repair.
“I’ll haunt her place tonight, Mom. She has to go home sometime, and I have a key.” Although, with his father, it stood to reason that he’d have Victoria followed, the better to ensure Logan wasn’t reneging. So, he’d be careful. “In the meantime, I’ll start deconstructing my crazy sire’s masterpiece.”
“He’s like Machiavelli. Or … or a bloated spider with a twisted web. And he’s had a long time to perfect the art. I’m sure he’s steps ahead, Logan. I don’t understand why he disapproves of Victoria.”
“He wants me to make an upwardly mobile marriage.”
“Look where that got him,” she said, bitterness flavoring her tone.
“It got me one of the best mothers around. And Jackson, and Evelyn, and Christina.”
“I love you too, Logan. In case I don’t tell you often enough. As for your siblings, you need to tell them what their father did. Let them help you. They were flabbergasted today.”
“I can’t. You know that was one of his conditions. No one else is to know but him and me, or he’ll blow us all out of the water. And Jackson would take his head off without slowing down to think. As for my sisters… Well, they might think on it for a couple of minutes before doing the right thing, but there are thousands of other people out there counting on me. I broke his rules bringing you in on it, but I know he can’t read you and you’ll never let on.”
“So you’ll give up your chance at happiness for the stockholders?”
“And for our staff, the clients, my family. Victoria will understand once I’ve dealt with it and tell her.” She had to. Of course she would. His girl never put herself first, so he’d made sure to assume that role until…
“You should have told her up front,” his mother fretted.
He kicked a chair, and it skidded across the polished hardwood, bumping into the coffee table where a slender figurine wobbled. Logan sprinted to catch it. Victoria had left only tiny imprints in his home if one overlooked the spare room crammed to the brim with wedding gifts, but the crafted figure he rescued was one of them. Anything of hers was carefully chosen and definitely meaningful.
Taking a deep breath, he answered, “Victoria couldn’t have hidden her reaction from the old man today if it meant saving the universe. He’d have known we were merely postponing the marriage. He set us up perfectly and I had to avoid telling her anything.” And drive her away.
“He’s a bastard. He’ll go straight to hell.” Tears clogged her voice and she sniffled.
Logan wasn’t sure he believed in hell, but the old man deserved to burn there if anybody did. “Gotta go, Mom. I have everything here I need.” Except Victoria. “And Dad will never know I’m suborning him. I’m far better at this than he is.” He hoped. The problem was, it would take time, and that was a luxury he couldn’t afford regarding Victoria.
“Good luck, son. I’m here if you need me. Any time. And I’ll keep in contact with Margaret, and try to keep the connection.”
Carefully setting down the figurine, his fingertips feathering the long, smooth body, he made his way to his study, a pretentious name for a home office, but one the Doherty family used since he was a kid. All the files he required were on a couple of thumb drives his PA had spirited from the office.
While his father was squatting in the church like a malignant demon, ready to unleash his own particular brand of hellfire on unsuspecting people if his youngest son didn’t toe the line, Logan had gotten word to Elaine. The woman had slipped from the church, right after Victoria, like a master of undercover stealth to perform the theft, and he’d be forever grateful to her.
End of sample chapter
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A Far Cry from Home Page 12
