by Andrew Grey
Yates seemed pleased. “Is there anything else?”
“Yes. If he decides to pursue this, I want a judge to order him a psych evaluation. I’m willing to bet there’s something wrong with him. No sane person would act the way he has.”
“I don’t know if we can do that.”
Dante lowered his gaze. “Just bring it up. Use whatever you have to in order to get Greg to let this drop. I don’t want to spend more money defending myself when we’ve already lost enough because of this asshole. Hell, he’s using my own money to try to sue me.” Dante had already spent enough time and effort on him. Now he was trying to make up the losses they’d suffered.
“All right. I’ll get on this first thing in the morning.”
“Is there anything else?” Dante stood. “If not, I’m going up to bed.”
“Dante,” Beau said softly, and he turned toward the door. His first instinct was to hurry over to stand between Beau and Yates. Beau had on a pair of shorts and one of his T-shirts, and he looked totally edible.
“I’m on my way.” Dante turned to Yates, who was already closing his bag and getting ready to leave.
“I’ll take care of everything.” Yates’s face was beet red. “I didn’t realize that you had company.” He hurried out of the office, and Dante heard Roberts tell him good night, and then the front door opened and thunked closed. Roberts had the good sense not to return, and Dante met Beau at the office doorway, turned out the light, and took Beau’s hand.
“Is everything okay?” Beau stroked the back of his hand, easing away some of the tension.
“Just a continuation of the protestors the other night. Hopefully we’ve put an end to this now.” As they climbed the stairs, Dante sighed. “I want to go over to Greg’s house and rip his head right off his shoulders. That asshole steals from me and then tries to sue me when I fire him. I should have called the police and let them deal with it.” He gripped the banister, stopping just before the top of the stairs. “I was trying to be a good guy and…. Shit. I should have just stepped back and let things take their course.”
“It’s over, isn’t it?” Beau asked.
“God, I hope so. I told Yates to throw everything we have at him. Scare the shit out of him and he’ll go away, and hopefully take his family along with him.” Dante started up the stairs again. “I know they think they’re standing up for him, but Greg hasn’t had the guts to tell them what he did, and now they blame me for what happened. Everyone blames me for everything.”
Beau tugged on his arm, and Dante stopped. “Self-pity isn’t becoming,” Beau told him. Dante half expected him to smile as though he’d been teasing, but he didn’t. “You say everyone blames you for everything, and yet you do nothing about it. You carry all this guilt and expect everyone to look past it. They can’t until you do.” Beau tugged him forward. “Come on. It’s getting late and you have a bunch of things you need to do in the morning, I’m sure. I have to be to the Center early so I can catch up on the paperwork that makes the world go around.”
Dante wanted to argue with him, but as he thought about it, there was nothing to argue about. Beau was right. He had been grousing over self-pity, and danged if Beau hadn’t refused to put up with it, but called him on it. That should have made him angry, but instead he drew Beau to him and hugged him close. Here was one person who wasn’t afraid, intimidated, or willing to tell him what he wanted to hear. His father had always said that he’d fallen in love with Dante’s mother because she didn’t take his bullshit and saw him for who he was.
“Are you angry at me?” Beau asked as they reached the bedroom door.
“How can I be angry when you’re right? Sometimes I may growl about it, but you have a way of cutting to the heart of things. It may piss me off, but it’s refreshing too.”
“Good.” Beau rose on his tiptoes and gave him a kiss. “Because I have a feeling that I’m going to be right quite often and you should probably get used to it.”
“You do, huh?” Dante said, trying to be playful.
Beau paused and then seemed to make up his mind. “Yeah. I know you’re used to being right and having people come to you for decisions, and once you make up your mind, that’s pretty much it… and you get pissed as hell when your wishes aren’t carried out.”
Dante narrowed his gaze. “How do you know that?” There was a definite growl in his voice that he tried to suppress.
“It’s not rocket science,” Beau said with a shake of his head. “You generally get what you want and you’re used to it.”
“Yeah, but no one listens to me.” After all, who wanted to spend time listening to the Beast? They simply dealt with him when they had to and stayed away at other times.
Beau went into the bedroom, began taking off what little he was wearing, and then slipped into bed. “I think you have things messed up. Everyone listens to you. How can they not? You have control over half the town, including the biggest employer. The problem is that no one likes you—there’s a difference. It’s hard to like someone you’re scared half to death of. People in town stay out of your way, talk about you behind your back. You know they’ve made up stories about you because you hear them.”
This wasn’t the kind of conversation he expected to have after he and Beau had just made love. “I see.”
Beau lifted the covers, and Dante hesitated before dropping his robe and getting in bed with him. “But they don’t see the real you. It’s too deeply hidden. The people around you here do and they stay, and you let me see some of what’s under that steel exterior of yours and I like you. The kids do too.” He ran a hand over Dante’s belly, and flutters of renewed desire beat in his chest. Beau reached over to turn out the light on his side of the bed.
“Aren’t you going to tell me what I should do?” Dante asked as he turned off his light, plunging the room into darkness.
“Nope. That’s up to you to decide.” Beau settled next to him and gently rubbed his cheek until Dante turned his head. Then Beau kissed him hard, demanding, and just like that, the desire that had been building burst to renewed flame once again. Before Dante could move, Beau had shifted, climbing on top of him, kissing him deeply enough that he felt it in his soul. “For now it’s time to stop thinking about beasts and what everyone else thinks.” Beau sucked at the base of his neck, and Dante groaned, stretching to give Beau better access. “Because what really matters right now is what I think.” He licked down Dante’s chest to his nipple, then teased it before pausing. “And I think that we’re both going to be tired in the morning.”
And Dante had no argument for that.
THREE DAYS later Dante woke from a dozing sleep, high above the Atlantic. He looked around and stifled the groan that rose to his lips. He knew he had no right to, but he missed Beau. They’d spent an entire night together, just one night, and Dante had never been so tired in the morning, or so thrillingly happy. Now once again he was alone.
The flight attendant made her way up the aisle and inquired if he needed anything. Dante quietly asked for some water and closed his eyes once again, trying to sleep and return to that dream he’d been having where Beau had just walked into his office, closed the door, and somehow all his clothes had vanished by the time he’d reached Dante’s desk. In the dream, Beau was unblemished, no scars, with perfect… well, everything, and eyes that radiated heat and desire.
Dante opened his eyes again, the hum of the jet engines intruding on his thoughts. Was that what he wanted? Beau to be perfect? He thought about it and realized he didn’t see Beau as anything but beautiful, scars or not. And that scared the hell out of him. Beau was perfect. He was generous, caring, understanding, and seemed to be willing to put up with him.
And that was the problem. Dante knew he didn’t deserve anyone like Beau.
“Sir, your water,” the flight attendant said, and Dante took the cold bottle, thanked her, and tried to get comfortable in his business-class seat once more. He pulled the blanket up over himself, closed hi
s eyes, and hoped to hell he’d be able to go to sleep.
Allison was there in the house, standing at the top of the stairs, smiling as brightly as she always had, no hint of the sadness that had been building inside her, adding to the lines around her eyes for the last year and a half. She was the Allison he knew, his best friend, the person he’d loved for years. The one person he’d always been able to confide in.
Dante rushed over to her, and before his eyes, she aged and her eyes grew hollow and cold. With each step, she turned into the person she’d been at the end.
Allison fell toward the stairs. Dante leaped to reach her, his hands grabbing, but she remained just out of reach. “This is your fault. You did this to me.” Her words rang in his head as she disappeared from sight. Dante didn’t need to come closer and look to know what he’d find. He’d already seen that image in his head, burned into his memory forever.
Dante jerked upright once again, nearly toppling the bottle of water on the little armrest tray. The other passengers were all shifting, waking up, and having breakfast before the flight crew prepared the cabin for their landing in Paris. Dante hoped the dream would fade, but it didn’t seem to, and even after they’d landed and Dante was getting off the plane, the image of Allison, aged and drawn, lingered in his mind.
FOR THE next week, Dante struggled to keep his thoughts on the business at hand. He made a number of deals in Paris that would benefit the business greatly, and some of their art pieces even won an award at a salon. But none of that managed to banish the constant thoughts of Beau during the day and then the dreams and nightmares of Allison at night. Over and over, Allison went to her death, and each and every time, she blamed him. Not that Dante had any illusions—her death was all his fault. It just hurt like hell to have it play over and over again in his head.
He made it to the station just in time for his train, boarded, and took his first-class seat, then ignored the scenery outside the window as the train barreled through the French countryside on its way toward the Channel that it would travel under.
His phone vibrated in his pocket and he answered it, checking the time. He had a little bit before he lost the signal. “Bonjour.”
“Dante?” Beau said tentatively.
“Yes, it’s me.” He smiled because he couldn’t stop himself. “I’m on the train from Paris to London, so we’ll get cut off once it enters the Channel.”
“Are you having a good trip?” Beau asked. “Did you get done what you hoped?”
“Yes. We won a gold medal at the Porcelain Salon. I can’t wait to present it to Florian Cindersen when I get back. He’s the head designer for our decorative line. Maybe I’ll have him to the house so you can meet him.”
“Is this a big deal?”
“Huge.” Dante worked up some enthusiasm. He knew he should be over the moon. That award would mean that they’d get orders from all over the world for years to come.
“Then have a reception for him. I can help you plan it if you like.” Just like that, Beau was there to try to help.
“That would be nice. I’ll think about what we want to do. Maybe a celebration for the entire division.” Dante yawned. He was getting very tired of traveling, though he still had a week or more to go. “What’s going on there? Are you doing okay?”
“The Center is busy. Bobby asked when you were coming back. I think he’s thinking of ice cream. Even Kendra grudgingly admitted that you weren’t mean—it’s a long story—and asked if you were coming back.” Beau sighed. “I want you to come back. I know we haven’t been… whatever we are for long, but I miss you. I almost called you my boyfriend, but I wasn’t sure if that’s what you wanted to be, and….”
“Of course, I’d be honored to be your boyfriend.” Dante wasn’t so sure if Beau would want that once he found out about his past. His phone beeped to indicate that he’d lost the signal, and Dante stared at the screen, wondering what Beau had heard or not heard. He shut down his phone and shoved it back into his pocket. More than anything he needed to get his head screwed on straight and make some decisions before he could allow things between them to get any more serious.
Dante’s heart was already engaged, and that was part of what concerned him the most. Beau deserved to know the truth about his past. That much he’d decided. The fallout to his heart was a completely different matter.
He returned Beau’s call once the train emerged from the Channel, but it went to voicemail. Dante left a quick message and ended the call, then rode in silence for the rest of the trip. He took a taxi to his hotel from Victoria Station and settled in for the night. With his mind made up on a course of action moving forward, his dreams were quiet and he was able to sleep for the first time in weeks.
Chapter 6
“YOU’RE SERIOUS? Mayor Grant wants to speak to me?” Beau asked Angie when she gave him the message. He’d been on the phone with Dante when the call had come in.
“Yes. That’s what Shirley said. I took down the number for you.” Angie continued with her work, her usual enthusiasm sorely and obviously absent. “I put those grant applications on your desk for review before I send them out.”
“What’s going on?” Beau perched on the edge of her desk, which she absolutely hated but Beau knew was a way to get her to spill the beans.
“The town received an offer for the Center from a developer,” Angie said. “It was brought up at the council meeting last night, and Gertrude Lawson called me this morning to tell me all about it. I didn’t put much faith in it because Gerty doesn’t get a whole lot right, but apparently the amount of money being offered is more than the town can afford to pass up.”
Beau’s shoulders slumped. He turned back toward his office and picked up the phone to return the call.
“Mayor Grant’s office.”
“This is Beau Clarity returning his call.” Beau sat down, his leg bouncing with nervous energy.
“Yes. Mr. Clarity. The mayor is on another call, but would it be all right if he stopped by the Center in an hour? He needs to speak to you.”
“At least he’s got the guts to deliver bad news in person,” Beau said, and Shirley didn’t correct him, which was telling as far as he was concerned. “I’ll be here and available.”
“Thank you.” She ended the call, and Beau settled the receiver in the cradle and tried to return to his work, but his mind refused to settle. It wouldn’t. When he’d taken this job, he’d been assured that the community and the town had been behind the Center and the programs he’d taken on.
THE PHONE on his desk rang and he answered it.
“Beau, the mayor is here.”
“I’ll be right out.” He took a deep breath, left his office, and headed down to get the bad news.
“Mr. Clarity,” Mayor Grant said, stepping forward in his suit and tie, looking sharp and extremely businesslike.
“Mayor Grant, what can I do for you?” Beau shook his hand.
“Is there somewhere we can talk?” Mayor Grant asked, and Beau motioned toward one of the counseling rooms, then followed behind and closed the door after them.
“I’m aware there’s some sort of offer that’s been made on this building,” Beau said, cutting to the chase. “Is the town really considering selling the building and closing the Center? There’s a real need for the services we’re providing, and the building is all the funding the town supplies.”
Mayor Grant raised his hand, and Beau stopped. “I’m well aware of the amazing job you and your staff are doing here and that you raise your own money and don’t require an ongoing line in the town’s budget. But St. Giles isn’t in the real estate business, and we’ve been offered enough money for this building to allow us to do a number of community upgrades that we’ve been searching for the resources for over the last five years.”
“So what? You and the council made promises when you hired me, and those promises will be kept. The Center and its continued functioning were among those. You yourself told me that the community was be
hind the Center, as was the town council. You don’t get to lie to me that way.” Beau crossed his arms over his chest, his fists clenched tight.
“We are behind the Center and your programs, and we’ll find a new location for you, but the town council is seriously considering accepting the offer on this property.” Mayor Grant reached for the door. “I thought it best to tell you in person rather than just letting the council act on the sale.” He seemed so damned smug. Beau’s stomach trembled.
“You do realize that my next step will be to go to the newspaper here in town, as well as the Annapolis and Baltimore news organizations? This is going to be a great human-interest story, and I will play it up to the hilt. So the council members and you had better be ready for some serious questions, because they’re going to be coming at you.” Beau grinned. “And when the reporters do come, I’ll have a group of seven-year-olds meet them.” He was so angry, he wanted to smack the smugness off the mayor’s face. Mayor Grant swallowed hard, and Beau stepped forward. “This Center provides a great deal of value to the community and you know it.” He now understood why Dante thought Mayor Grant was less than useful.
“As I said, we will work to help find another location. But you have to understand that this offer is too good for anyone to pass up.” Mayor Grant looked around the room. “This facility needs a large number of upgrades, and the building itself is at the end of its useful life. The Center, as well as the town, is spending more and more on maintenance.” He reached for the handle. “We need to work together to find a solution that will work for everyone.” He opened the door and strode across the hallway to the Center’s front entrance, pulled it open, and stepped outside.
As soon as the door closed behind Mayor Grant, Beau swore under his breath and stomped back to his office, slumped into his chair, and put his head in his hands. Beau knew he could make arguments until he was blue in the face and Mayor Grant and council would still do whatever they wanted. Sure, he could raise a stink, but it wasn’t likely to change anything. He was a new person in town and had little say.
