Unexpected Daddies

by Lively, R. S.

  I sit back and let out a long breath. I'd like to say I'm surprised to learn Mason is the reason behind what happened, but I'm not. I've always known he was capable of some shady, underhanded shit, but this elevates things to a whole new level. Even for him. The depths he would stoop to, just to control me, never fails to amaze me.

  As pissed as I am at Mason for interfering in our relationship like that, I still can't let go of my anger toward Carter. Can't see my way past the pain. He'd made a conscious decision. There were other ways he could have handled it. Maybe, gone to the cops himself. Talked to Pops and gotten the whole story. He could have done a lot of things, but didn't. In the end, he'd walked away from me over a threat that, for all he knew, wasn't even legitimate.

  “Probably didn't do,” I say. “You sacrificed our relationship and threw away the feelings we had for each other, for a potential killer.”

  Carter's face hardens and a dark shadow passes through his eyes. “I know that Pops isn't a killer, Darby,” he says, his voice low. “He's the best man I've ever known. I wouldn't be where I am today if it wasn’t for him.”

  We stare at each other in silence for a few moments, the tension between us almost tangible.

  “Is there anything else?” I ask. “Anything else you wanted to get off your chest?”

  He recoils like I just slapped him, and I see something fill his eyes – pain. Good. I want him to hurt like I did.

  “Did you really think it was going to be that easy, Carter?” I ask. “That you say you're sorry, tell me it was my brother's fault, and we just pick up where we left off ten years ago?”

  “To be honest, I was sort of hoping that –”

  “Yeah,” I say. “You don't even know the first thing about me. You don't even know if I'm involved with anybody right now. For all you know, I could be married and have ten kids.”

  That cocky little smirk touches his lips. “You're too young to have ten kids.”

  “Shut up,” I say. “That's not the point. The point is –”

  “Are you?” he asks. “Married? Involved with somebody?”

  I let out a frustrated breath and stare at him. Carter’s arrogance is still astounding. That he thinks he just can waltz into my life – ten years after destroying it – and start over like nothing ever happened is beyond maddening. Honestly, it makes me want to slap him.

  “That's not your business, Carter,” I say. “Not anymore. We had a good thing going, but you ruined it. And you aren't getting a second bite at the apple. Not after what you did. I can't.”

  “Darby, please,” he says. “I'm just trying to make this right.”

  I get to my feet and take his coat off my shoulders, dropping it on the bench behind me. I stand before him, lifting my chin defiantly, and summon all the strength and attitude I can manage.

  “Some things can't be made right, Carter,” I bitterly state. “You don't get a second bite at an apple you tossed away and left to rot.”

  “Darby, I –”

  “No,” I snap. “I've moved on. I think you should too.”

  I walk off the patio and make my way back to the main gallery room, where I'm assaulted by a wave of a rambunctious Christmas tune played by the string quartet. I want to say it's Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer, but my head is so full of thoughts right now, I can't be sure.

  I walk through the gallery, and head for the coat check, quickly gathering my things, my evening ruined. That's just another log on the bonfire of anger I have burning inside of me. I've wanted to attend this damn gala for years, and when I finally get the chance, Carter rises up like a malevolent spirit to suck all of the joy and life out of the evening. It's really not fair.

  Then I think about how I got to the gala in the first place, and my mind drifts back to my brother. Mason. It's because of him that I'm here. And apparently, it's also his fault that I'm here spiritually and emotionally in regard to Carter.

  As I stand at the curb and flag a cab, I can't seem to push the image of Carter's face out of my mind. When I left, he looked so lost – like he was wounded beyond comprehension.

  I think he actually believed we would just patch things up and move forward. From personal experience, I know that Carter’s a force of nature, and not used to hearing the word, “no.” He always got what he wanted. Always.

  So, to be able to shoot him down like that, and leave him in a pile of burning emotional rubble, was more than a little bit satisfying. What can I say? I can be petty as hell.

  I'm not going to lie, a small part of me enjoys the fact that I'd scored a direct hit on Carter. That he got a small taste of how much he had hurt me. There's another part of me, though – the emotionally traitorous, and stupid side – that wants nothing more than to take him into my arms and soothe him. And yeah, pick up right where we left off.

  I've really moved on, huh?

  Chapter Nine

  Carter

  I lean back in my seat, staring out at Central Park beyond the window – but not really seeing it. I'm aware of the vibrant autumnal color of the trees, the slate gray sky overhead, but that's about it, really. My head is certainly not into working today. It's still preoccupied with Darby. Because, of course it is.

  I have zero fucking clue how I'm supposed to analyze the mountain of data on my desk when my head is wrapped up in her. I can't get her smile, her voice, and especially her sparking emerald eyes, out of my head. They're haunting me like a fucking ghost.

  It seemed so serendipitous to run into her at the gala. Though, given the fact that she's wealthy and an artist, maybe it shouldn't have been all that surprising. But, in all the years I've worked with the Ravere Group, and the Sheldonhurst Foundation in general, I've never seen her.

  I really thought I was being given a second chance with her. I really thought I had an opportunity to make things right. Ok, maybe it was slightly idiotic to think everything would be okay again, but, when I saw her there, I really wanted to believe it.

  And still, even after she told me to fuck off, I couldn’t let my heart and mind fully accept it. I know I have to. I just can't quite force myself to turn that corner. Not just yet. I don’t believe in fate – we create our own luck and opportunities in life – but it sure felt like there was some intervening hand putting us both in the same room, at the same time.

  “So, how was the gala?”

  I startle, spinning around in my chair quickly. Rupert’s sitting in the chair in front of my desk, a shit-eating grin on his face.

  “Jesus! I didn't even hear you come in. How long have you been sitting there, Rupert?”

  “Yeah, you seem a little preoccupied,” he says. “Or maybe, your ears are still ringing from getting verbally eviscerated by that cute redhead in the ballgown the other night.”

  I ran a hand through my hair, a rueful chuckle escaping me. “Heard about that, did you?”

  He's having a hard time controlling his laughter as he looks at me. His eyes are shining with tears from the effort. I lean back in my chair and shake my head.

  “Go ahead,” I say. “Get it all out.”

  And he does. Rupert laughs long and hard, doubling over with the effort. Finally, after what feels like forever, his laughter subsides. He sits up and takes a minute to catch his breath.

  “You good?” I ask.

  He chuckles a few more times and then nods. “Yeah, I think so.”

  “Good,” I say. “So, people are obviously talking about that, huh? Shit. I figured that was the least controversial thing to happen this weekend.”

  “Talking about it?” he asks, arching his eyebrows. “Hell, the tabloids are eating that shit up, man. Somebody got a video of it, and it's on YouTube right now, as we speak. It's trending pretty high on Twitter too. I'd avoid looking at the comments, if I were you.”

  I press my head back into my seat and stare up at the ceiling. “Wonderful,” I say. “Just fucking great. It's almost Christmas, shouldn't people be obsessing over that stupid shit, instead of this stupid shit
?”

  “I think people can multi-task well enough, Carter,” he says. “Who doesn't have time for a quick, but hilarious video. I saw one, that was edited to include that 'Eye of the Tiger' song, and let me tell you –”

  “Can it,” I say. “Don't want to hear it. Or see it.”

  He shrugs. “Hey, look at it this way,” he says. “Like they always say, there's no bad publicity, right?”

  “Yeah, actually, there is,” I snap. “You sitting here, laughing your ass off about it, is proof enough.”

  “So, who was she?” he asks. “One of your one-night flings looking for a little payback?”

  “Hardly,” I say.

  “Somebody who didn't take kindly to your proposition?”

  “Strike two.”

  Rupert looks at me, the light of amusement in his eyes. He's enjoying this far too much. I may have to kill him.

  “So? Who was she?” he asks.

  I let out a long breath. “Darby,” I say, knowing that will tell him all he needs to know. “That was Darby.”

  Rupert sits up, alert, his eyes widened in surprise. He knows all about Darby. I've told him about her over drinks many, many times. Shared all of my regrets about how I handled the situation, and in my sloppier moments, how much I miss her to this very fucking day. Yeah, he's very well acquainted with the Darby-shaped hole in my heart.

  “The Darby?”

  I nod. “Yeah, the Darby,” I say. “The one and only.”

  He whistles low and sits back in his seat. I can see his mind working, which means I need to nip this in the bud before he gets rolling, because I already know exactly where his mind is headed.

  “She made it abundantly clear that she has no desire to talk to me again,” I say. “None, whatsoever.”

  “And that's stopped you – when, exactly?”

  “This is different.”

  “Oh?” he asks. “How so?”

  “She has a legitimate right to be pissed at me,” I say and shrug. “I don't deserve her forgiveness.”

  Rupert smirks and crosses his legs, putting on his serious “fixer” face. He suddenly seems very invested in this – which concerns me. Rupert is one of the exceedingly rare few people who can talk me into doing anything – even when it goes against my better judgment, and common sense.

  “Ok,” he says. “But, plenty of people have a legitimate right to be pissed at you. I mean, no offense, but you can be kind of an asshole sometimes.”

  I let out a wry chuckle. “That's true,” I say. “But, those people aren't Darby. I can't explain it, but it's just different with her.”

  “Look, she's pissed and has a right to be. I get it. Although, you also got stuck between a rock and a hard place because of that prick brother of hers.”

  “Yeah, I know,” I say.

  We are all very familiar with Mason White around the office. Hell, in this industry, everyone knows Mason White. Somewhere along the line, someone nicknamed him Ahab after his crazed relentlessness in going after people like me – successful people. Yeah, he's snared some of the shady operators in the industry – much to my delight, to be honest, since it helps eliminate competition – but, he also pushes boundaries. He pushes the fuck out of them. When Mason White gets a taste of blood, he turns into a zealot, and pushes until he brings down whoever his white whale of the week is.

  The man is relentless and cruel, often doling out harsher punishments than a violation requires. He seems to revel in not only taking people down, but in completely destroying them, reducing their lives to nothing but a pile of rubble. It's obviously how he gets his rocks off, and honestly, it's disgusting.

  “Darby is a grown woman,” he says. “Free to make her own choices.”

  “Yeah, I know. But, it's probably all for the best. No use dredging up old ghosts like that. They usually end up fucking you in the end.”

  “Fuck Mason White,” Rupert snaps. “He can't touch you. You and this company are above reproach.”

  “No, but he could still go after Pops,” I say. “Like he so gleefully reminded me all those years ago, there is no statute of limitations on murder.”

  Rupert looks at me for a long moment. “Let me ask you something,” he says, “you really think Pops has some bodies on him? You really think Mason can pin anything on him?”

  As much as I want to deny it, I’m not confident that I’m right. The simple truth of the matter is, I really don't know. I'd met Pops after he'd gotten out of the game, and he never seemed to want to talk about his past, so I didn’t push it. I figured since it was his past, I had no business in it. If he wanted to talk to me, that was one thing. I'd be more than happy to listen. But, in all the years he's been a part of my life, he hasn't.

  “I honestly don't know, man,” I say. “I just shouldn't risk it. I don't know what I was thinking when I saw her. I guess I just went a little crazy thinking about fate, and second chances, and all.”

  “Or maybe you didn't,” he says. “Darby's been the gold standard you compare every woman in your life to. Hell, even when you're with your model of the week, I see it in your eyes, Carter. There's not nearly the same shine and life in them as when you're just talking about Darby.”

  “Bullshit.”

  “Nah, it’s very real,” Rupert says and laughs. “Maybe not verbally, but I can tell you’re always judging them against Darby in your head.”

  I want to argue further, but I have to admit that he's probably right. It's not a conscious thing, but I can't really deny it. Darby is my gold standard.

  Though, I hate to admit it simply because it means no woman will ever be good enough, and I'm either going to spend my time alone, or settle.

  “Maybe you need to hash this out with Pops,” he says. “That way, you can see if Mason even has anything the two of you need to be worried about. Anything he can go after. At least now, you have more than enough money to hire some top-notch legal representation if it comes to that, and fight that vindictive, controlling son of a bitch.”

  “And then what?” I ask. “What's the game plan after that?”

  “And then you do whatever the hell it takes, to catch your white whale,” he says. “It's not often you get a second chance. You know that. Maybe she was there at the gala to remind you of that fact. Now, it’s up to you to capitalize on it.”

  I sigh and run a hand through my hair. “I don't know man,” I say. “I just don't know. Sometimes, it's best to just let old ghosts die.”

  Rupert tilts his head and looks at me, a mischievous grin tugging the corners of his mouth upward.

  “Are you getting soft on me?” he asks. “Right before my eyes?”

  I laugh. “

  Don't you have some work you should be doing?” I ask. “Something to justify your obscene paycheck?”

  “I'm doing it right now,” he replies. “I'm the unofficial office shrink.”

  I stand up and laugh. “Get out of my office,” I say. “Go play shrink for somebody else. I have a meeting I need to get to.”

  Laughing, Rupert stands, and heads for the door. Before going through and getting back out on the floor though, he turns to me, and his expression grows serious.

  “Look,” he says. “I know what Darby meant to you, and still means to you. And it's rare that you get a second chance like this. So, you need to step up and do something about it.”

  “I appreciate it, man,” I say. “But, that was a long time ago. Another lifetime. She says she's moved on, and told me to do the same.”

  He shrugs. “What else was she gonna say?” he asks. “The truth is, if she felt nothing for you anymore, she wouldn't have cared enough to make a spectacle of herself in the middle of the gallery. That kind of anger takes passion. Love, even. That doesn’t happen when someone’s moved on.”

  I laugh heartily. “Paging, Dr. Freud,” I tease.

  “Just giving you food for thought,” he says. “You apparently need it.”

  As soon as Rupert leaves, I grab my coat. I need to he
ad down to the conference room to meet with some prospective clients.

  The whole time though, Rupert's words echo in my ears. If Darby truly felt nothing, would she have been angry enough to yell at me?

  Or was Rupert just making that shit up as he went along? It wouldn’t be the first time.

  As I step into the conference room, I do my best to shift gears in my mind. I can't be tied up in her, and I need to do my best to focus on the task at hand – my clients.

  It's not easy though. Darby's face continues to float through my mind, and I feel the sting of her words, and the pain and the hurt hiding behind them. I also remember hearing a longing. A sense of regretful yearning.

  Or, I'm full of shit and making it up as I go along too.

  Chapter Ten

  Darby

  With the instruction portion of my class over, I walk around the room, looking at my student's work. Unfortunately, I'm more than a little distracted. My thoughts keep drifting back to the scene at the Sheldonhurst Holiday Gala. Drifting back to Carter. Almost a week's worth of distance hasn’t dulled the memories at all, even though I finally got the answers I've wanted for years. The trouble is, I don't really know what to do with it all now. What am I supposed to think?

  I guess you really should be careful what you wish for, because you just might get it. I'm not sure what to do with all the thoughts and emotions plaguing me. I'm not sure what to think or how to feel.

  On the one hand, the fact that Mason interfered with my relationship infuriates me to no end. I'm going to have a few choice words with him about that. On the other hand, though, Carter allowed him to interfere with our relationship. And he did it all for a man who may or may not have actually killed someone. Or multiple someones.