Eve of Passion

by A. C. Arthur

  “I’d like to speak with you, son,” Daniel said in a hushed tone across the table so the others wouldn’t hear him.

  Ballard hid the frown that threatened to appear. He wasn’t in the mood for his father right now, not in the mood to be questioned about the Chan deal or the new offices in New York or anything else, for that matter. All Ballard wanted to do was cherish the time he had left with Janelle. When they left here, he’d be taking her back to her home in Wintersage and probably wouldn’t see her for the rest of the week, as his schedule was pretty full for the next few days.

  “We’re about to have dessert,” he replied, not at all interested in the lemon meringue pie his grandfather had already mentioned at least three times throughout the meal.

  “We’ll skip it. This is more important,” Daniel insisted, dropping his napkin onto his plate and standing.

  Ballard doubted that but he wasn’t about to embarrass his father or draw any more of his grandfather’s attention by remaining in his seat. So he stood and when Janelle turned to look up at him, he went on impulse alone. Bending down, he kissed her forehead and whispered, “Be right back.”

  She smiled up at him, then turned back to his grandmother, whose eyes simply glowed with knowledge.

  He followed his father back to the den, and Daniel stood in front of one of his grandmother’s French-inspired sofas.

  “Chan’s not signed,” was Daniel’s first comment.

  “He will be,” Ballard replied.

  “You said that last week and it’s still not done.”

  “He’s not the only candidate for this contract, Dad. I’m not about to cave on his terms just because he likes to think so. Now, I’m confident he will come around.” Ballard slipped a hand into his pant pocket. He’d worn jeans today, dark denim, and a white button-down shirt. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d worn jeans, but when Janelle had pulled another pair out of her bag this morning, sliding her long legs into the denim, then topping them off with high-heeled boots, he’d figured that was the style of the day and mimicked her attire. Before leaving his apartment, he’d grabbed her close, using his cell phone to take an impulsive selfie of them. They’d giggled all the way down to the car and she’d insisted he text her the picture so she’d have it on her phone, as well. He almost smiled at the memory but knew that would only tick his father off more.

  “You must remain focused, Ballard. There’s no time for this dalliance you’re involved in now. The press is distracting,” Daniel insisted.

  His father was an inch or so taller than Ballard, his build still muscled even if he’d lost about ten pounds since the divorce. He was dressed in a casual suit of dark brown slacks and a dark-brown-and-black-checked jacket. His dress shirt was unbuttoned at the collar but Ballard was sure there was a tie in the glove compartment of his father’s car just in case he had to do some business.

  “Was Mother distracting?” Ballard asked impulsively. “Was being married to her and having a child too distracting for you to give us your attention?”

  The question had burned in Ballard’s mind since the day he’d left for college. Over the years he’d convinced himself that it didn’t matter, that it was done. His father was who he wanted to be and, as such, he was in exactly the position he wanted to be in.

  Daniel didn’t move but for the tick of muscle in his jaw. “What did you say to me?”

  “I asked you a question,” Ballard insisted. “I asked you if business was really the most important thing in your life. Did you really prefer to close a deal rather than spend the weekend with your wife, with your son?”

  “You have no right,” Daniel began.

  “I have every right!” Ballard yelled back. “You made a commitment to us, too, and you let us down so you could run your business. Now you stand here daring to give me that same stupid-ass advice. Well, I don’t need your advice now. Those days have long passed and you missed that boat.”

  He paused, clenching his teeth and thinking that maybe he should walk away. Maybe he should let the rush of emotion pounding through his chest go and move on. But he couldn’t, not now that he’d begun.

  “I’ve done that for years,” Ballard continued, “and probably missed out on more living than I’ll ever manage to get back. But no more, Dad. I’m not going that route anymore. I’ll get Chan to sign the contracts and if not, I’ll get someone else. I know how to do my job. But I also know how to handle my personal business.”

  He did leave then, because seeing the look of pure fury on his father’s face told him that all his words had only scratched against the ego of the great Daniel Dubois. They hadn’t pricked the skin of the man, hadn’t made him feel one ounce of guilt or regret. So his words didn’t matter, not to his father, anyway.

  To Ballard, though, they had and he headed back into the dining room to finish the dinner he’d been enjoying with his grandparents and the woman he couldn’t seem to have enough of. When Hudson lifted his glass for a toast after they’d finished their pie, Ballard lifted his, as well, watching with a smile on his face as Janelle and his grandmother joined in.

  “To Ballard and Janelle, a cuter couple I’ve never seen,” Hudson began until Leandra cleared her throat. “Oh, ah, well, I guess I have seen a cuter couple, about fifty-some-odd years ago,” he corrected with a wink to his wife.

  When Leandra smiled, Ballard put his free arm around Janelle’s shoulders, loving once more the way she leaned into him.

  “May you both achieve all your dreams and love like there’s no tomorrow,” Hudson finished.

  They sipped from their glasses and Ballard tried not to notice Janelle had stiffened at his grandfather’s mention of the word love.

  Chapter 11

  Chan finally signed the deal and Ballard scanned the signed contracts, then emailed them to his father and grandfather. Afterward he sat back in his leather office chair, rubbing a hand over his goatee, thinking about all that he’d accomplished and all that his father lacked.

  Daniel Dubois needed to take a break. He needed to go to some island and find a beautiful woman. He needed to feel that rush of male blood coursing through his veins again, to smell the ocean, watch the sunrise and sunset and live again. And Ballard could run the company while his father recovered.

  All he had to do was marry Janelle.

  He pushed that idea right out of his mind as fast as it appeared there. Marriage was not on his radar. Even in light of the speech he’d just given his father, it simply wasn’t for him. He’d never thought about that type of commitment, never wanted to be that beholden to a female. And if he were really honest with himself, outside of the fact that it was Monday and he was missing her since they’d spent the entire weekend together, he still didn’t think he had what his grandfather did. It was that something special a person had when they found another person that enabled them to stick it out through the good and bad, to stay in a marriage and make it the happiest union ever.

  His father apparently didn’t have it, so Ballard wasn’t surprised when those feelings didn’t move through him either. It was just the way it had to be with them both, he figured.

  As the afternoon dragged on, when he still couldn’t get thoughts of her out of his head and his grandfather’s voice echoed in the back of his mind, Ballard shut his computer down and packed up his things. For the first time in he didn’t know how long, he was leaving the office early. He wasn’t going to run home and change and hit the road to go and visit Janelle—he’d already decided it was too soon to do something that drastic. Besides, he could go a day without seeing her. His grandfather’s words had been fanciful and spoken by an old man who had been married most of his life. Of course he thought his wife was the star, the sun, the moon. That was the way he should think.

  Ballard needed to think differently, but he still needed to get the hell out of this office for
the rest of the day.

  * * *

  “You spent the entire weekend with Ballard Dubois and you want us to believe that absolutely nothing happened,” Vicki said as the threesome sat in their favorite seat near the window at the Quarterdeck.

  “I didn’t say absolutely nothing,” Janelle replied, attempting to hide a smile but not being very successful.

  Her mood had been almost giddy since arriving home last night. The weekend had been unexpected and almost surreal. She hadn’t spent time sleeping in the same bed with a man since she’d been in Europe. In fact, she hadn’t even entertained the notion since she’d given up on dating altogether. Yet when he’d asked her to go with him, she’d followed and she hadn’t regretted one moment of that decision.

  “All right, then spill,” Sandra said, sitting back to accept the plate of food the waitress had just set in front of her.

  They all took a few moments to bless their food before the attention was once again front and center on Janelle.

  “Okay, look, I want to first say that this was not a part of the plan. I invited him to the dance and then he invited me to Boston for the weekend. It was very impromptu.”

  “Uh-huh, and was it also very good?” Sandra asked.

  Vicki smiled. “You’re practically glowing, so I’m going to guess that answer is yes.”

  Janelle chewed on a French fry until it was gone, then nodded. “It was very good. Better than I remembered.”

  “That’s because your memory was of Jack,” Sandra told her. “Can you believe all that nonsense he’s been feeding reporters since the dance?”

  “Disgusting. He should have stayed wherever he’s been hiding himself all these years,” Vicki chimed in. “I couldn’t believe when I saw him waltz into that dance as if he’d lived here all his life. And as if he’d been invited here in the first place. Arrogant bastard!”

  Janelle had been about to pick up another fry, happy to be chatting with her girlfriends about the guy she was just a little bit crazy about. So their shift in conversation was more than a little surprising.

  “Wait, what are you talking about? What has Jack been doing since Friday?” she asked them.

  Sandra and Vicki exchanged a look.

  “What, have you been under a rock? I know we don’t make a habit of reading the tabloids, but national papers even picked up that story from yesterday, especially with all the election talk mentioned in it.”

  Election talk? What the hell?

  “No, I haven’t been under a rock. Ballard and I just spent the weekend focusing on each other, not work and not anything to do with work.” She’d noted that as she’d awakened this morning and walked into the kitchen to make coffee.

  Her father had left her a note saying he had a meeting in Boston this morning and that he wanted to talk to her the moment he arrived home around seven this evening. It probably also explained why Ballard had been so intent on keeping her inside his condo at all costs.

  “So you haven’t seen any of the newspapers or tabloids?” Sandra asked. She’d put down her wineglass and was now looking at Janelle with concern.

  “No. Should I have?”

  “Oh, sweetie,” Vicki began.

  Janelle held up a hand. “No. Just tell me what they said.” She didn’t want the pitiful looks or the sorrowful tone. Whatever was going on, she wanted to deal with it head-on, not through blurry eyes.

  “Jack’s bringing up your past relationship. In one article he says he thinks you may be the one that got away. In another one he’s making accusations that this thing with you and Ballard isn’t serious at all, that it’s just a front for the political joining of Dubois and your dad,” Vicki told her.

  Sandra nodded. “That’s the first one I saw because Jordan was on the phone with Windom about it when we were supposed to be having a family dinner.”

  “No,” Janelle whispered. “Why would he do that? Why would he come all the way back here and stir up this type of trouble?”

  “Maybe he is feeling like he missed out with you. Maybe he’s regretting calling off the wedding,” Vicki suggested.

  “He didn’t call off the wedding—I did!” Janelle yelled back. “And he’s lucky that’s all I did after his antics at the château that night.”

  Both Sandra and Vicki grew quiet and Janelle sat back in her seat. She was fuming, the tips of her ears stinging, she was so angry. Her heart beat a rapid rhythm at the thought of what Ballard must have thought when he saw those articles, because she had no doubt he had seen them.

  “What antics?” Sandra asked.

  “When you came back, you said you broke up, that he decided he wasn’t ready. Then you went into the dating hibernation,” Vicki added.

  Janelle debated for another second or so if she should tell them or not. It was in the past—why couldn’t it just stay there? Obviously, Jack wasn’t respecting the past aspect, so why should she? Why had she all those years ago?

  Appetite gone, Janelle pushed the plate away from her and totally ignored her drink. “He was drunk,” she began, then paused. “No, I don’t think he was drunk at all. He came into the room saying all sorts of crazy stuff about me not pleasing him and being too frigid for him. Then he tried to rape me.”

  She’d said it. For the second time in just four days she’d admitted what had happened after holding silent for five years. She took a deep breath and actually shrugged this time.

  “I don’t know why I didn’t tell you before. No, I do. I was ashamed. Embarrassed by what I thought at the time was the perfect relationship. We’d been together for years and while everyone else was breaking up or having trouble with cheating boyfriends, I had Jack and he’d been perfect. My parents liked him because they were certain he didn’t want me for my money, since his family had enough of their own. We were going to be a great power couple as they’d said. Then it was over.”

  “Okay.” Sandra spoke first. “I’m going to be upset with you for not confiding in us then, but that will happen later. Right now I want to know when you plan to call the police and report that asshole for what he did to you.”

  She shook her head, her temples throbbing with the building headache. “I had no plans of ever telling anyone. He went his way and I went mine. Now, actually, right after that night, I realized that was the best thing to ever happen to me.”

  “Really, Janelle? He almost raped you and you say it’s the best thing that ever happened to you?” Sandra was very upset.

  Janelle had known this was how it would go when she told them. Vicki looked as if she wanted to cry but Janelle just felt relief. It was out. To the most important people in her life the sordid story was out.

  “I didn’t tell before, because I didn’t want to embarrass my family. And then when I’d finally gathered the courage to say something to my mother, she was killed. I let the secret be buried with her,” Janelle told them. “I know I probably should have pressed charges, but we were engaged. It had been in all the papers and everyone in Wintersage was looking forward to what they were calling the wedding of the century. I just didn’t want to let everyone down.”

  “Oh, honey,” Vicki said, getting up from her seat and coming around to the side of the table where Janelle sat to hug her. “I’m so sorry that happened to you. So sorry you thought you couldn’t tell us.”

  Sandra looked as if she was ready to take out her cell phone and dial the police herself. Instead she extended her hand across the table and Janelle took it, clasping her fingers tightly with those of a woman she’d always considered a sister.

  “So now we really need to put a stop to his media madness,” Sandra said, taking a deep breath and releasing it slowly.

  Janelle blinked back her own tears, smiling up at Vicki. “It will die down soon. Nobody really cares who I date.”

  “They do if getting the
Dubois family to back your father ends up making him win the election. Windom’s campaign is going to have a field day with that info. I’m surprised they haven’t already started a counter attack,” Vicki told her.

  They both looked at Sandra, who shrugged. “I don’t know. Jordan doesn’t talk to me about it, because of my relationship with you. My parents are sort of taking the same stance and not talking about the election with either of us.”

  “Then I should go home and talk to my dad,” Janelle announced.

  “Are you going to tell him about what Jack did?” Vicki asked, whispering as if she didn’t want anyone else to overhear her question even though she hadn’t said anything bad.

  “I’m going to tell him that I’ve tried to speak to Ballard about the election and that I have no idea why Jack is back in the picture.”

  “You sure that’s the right thing to do? This election is pretty important to him. If the details about what happened between you and Jack come out, it could hurt his chances,” Sandra proposed.

  Janelle had actually thought about this over the weekend. She’d thought about telling her father simply to clear her conscience, not realizing that it might somehow circle back to his campaign. But she was almost positive the last thing Jack Trellier wanted was for some bad press to destroy the company he’d worked so hard to obtain. This story would not bode well for Trell Cosmetics. Women internationally would be outraged at the thought that he would do something so vicious and just walk away. No, he didn’t want it coming out. He simply wanted to irritate her, to see if she’d crack, if she’d either stop seeing Ballard or come crawling back to him. Neither of which was an option for her.

  “I’m not telling my father if I don’t absolutely have to. He’s endured enough hurt,” Janelle told them, knowing they probably still didn’t approve of her decision.