by Amy Brent
“I’m not fully retired, Raychelle. I have to keep working if I need to. I don’t know what he wants, but he was there for me after Marcie passed away. Remember?”
“I suppose you’re right,” Raychelle said. “Let me know when you get to Colorado Springs. I’ll get Lily to school just fine.”
“Thank you, Raychelle.” I pressed a kiss to her powdered cheek that smelt of rose perfume. “I appreciate it. Take care of my little girl for me.”
“Will do. Take care of yourself on the roads.”
I spent the next ten hours driving before reaching Colorado Springs, right as the sun disappeared from the sky. The storm had moved well past Colorado Springs, but the Rocky Mountains were covered in a pure white blanket. It was a beautiful sight, coming into the bustling city.
I had no idea what Beau wanted, but he never asked for favors. I was tempted to call him from the hotel room, to tell him that another government contract would be difficult at this time with Lily. Instead, I called in to talk with Lily for a few minutes before retiring for the night.
It wasn’t until the next morning that I realized how nice it felt to see Beau’s friendly smile when I walked into the country club fifteen minutes away from the hotel. His silver hair was slicked back as usual, and he wore a nice pair of pants with a button up navy shirt.
“Good to see you,” Beau said, clasping my hand warmly. “I’m glad that you were able to make it out here.”
“I didn’t have much of a choice,” I replied as I followed him through the dining area to a private booth near windows that overlooked what was normally a green golf course. The entire place was covered in a thick snow that sparkled in the morning sunlight. “You hooked my curiosity with your abrupt call yesterday.”
“Right. I apologize for the vagueness. I was in between meetings at the time I called you.”
“No problem.”
We took a seat near the window. I could feel the cold and snowy air coming in through the window as I shrugged out of my jacket, draping it across my chair. The private dining area was filled with quiet chatter. I waited for the waiter to take our orders before gazing across the table at Beau expectantly.
“So,” I said. “What is this favor that you need? Before you answer that, I need to tell you that a contract might not be the best thing for me at the moment. You see, Lily is—”
Beau held up a hand to stop me. “This is a personal favor, Gage. I understand completely that a contract with your company would be too much at the moment.” A darkness settled across Beau’s freshly shaven face then. “I’m not sure if you have read the headlines over the past few months…”
“I’ve made it a point to avoid the headlines.”
“Wise. Very wise. I have to return to DC here soon for the start of Congress, and that’s why I asked you to come meet with me. It has to do with my daughter, Amber.”
“Amber?” I repeated, arching my eyebrows up in surprise. “What is going on with, Amber?”
“A nasty divorce,” Beau replied coldly. “The bastard she married, Scott, has been beating her for a while. They have a small child together.”
“He has been hitting her?”
The thought filled me with a blood rage. The kind of rage that you felt whenever someone hurt your baby girl. Though, Beau was much more composed about it, given he was a public figure. I would’ve torn the son of a bitch limb from limb if it was my daughter, without a care in the world. I had no reputation to worry about.
“The tabloids have been brutal,” Beau said, and ran a hand through his hair. “Divorce isn’t taken lightly here in these parts of Colorado. I’ve been sheltering Amber and Ethan as much as I can with support. I’ve got the best lawyers working this divorce out for Amber’s best interests, but my girl is taking it hard.” He stopped to smile thinly at me. “You know how Amber is. She’s always been so sensitive about everything.”
“I remember,” I said. The waiter arrived to set a plate of scrambled eggs and bacon in front of me, along with a cup of coffee. I waited for him to scurry away before looking up at Beau in confusion. “I’m a bit confused, Beau. Do you want me to kick the bastard’s ass for you? I know you politicians can’t get your hands dirty, and I wouldn’t mind doing something like that for you.”
“I wish,” Beau said. His eyes glittered coldly. “I wish it was possible. No, it’s a different type of favor that I need.”
Chapter 4
Amber
Divorce was a bitter and slow process. That was all I could think while gazing up at the shadows dancing across the ceiling of my old bedroom that was now a guest room suite. I could hear the staff downstairs, bustling about in the kitchen, getting the Roselyn house ready for the day.
Dad probably had the morning news on as usual. He took a lot of pride in keeping up with the local events and issues around Colorado, but also with the rest of the United States. It was what kept Beau Roselyn in office as a well-liked Congressman. It helped that he was the definition of a great family man who cared about his family.
I wished Scott would’ve held the same morals. My stomach twisted into horrible knots at the thought of him. Three years. Three fucking miserable years of having to cover up the bruises, lie to every single person who asked questions, and also trying to shelter Ethan from it all. It was exhausting trying to put on a brave face for Ethan every single day, now that it was all said and done with.
Scott had the divorce papers. I had packed up overnight to drive up to my parents’ log mansion in the wealthy part of Colorado Springs. Judging from the tabloids, he was furious over the divorce. He played the victim well, but it was my father’s public relations team that decided it would benefit the Roselyn name by going forward with the truth of the divorce. It was a surreal moment to watch your life spin out of control in the media and public sphere, where everyone got to nitpick and state their opinions.
I felt empty. Despite my parents’ assurance that I had made the right decision to leave and to file those divorce papers, the decision didn’t feel like entirely my own anymore.
The chatter from downstairs kept me from drifting off to sleep, even though it was tempting to do so. Ethan had been up three times throughout the night, screaming from nightmares. A headache pounded in my temples, but I forced myself to get up anyway. Coffee and some fresh winter air did sound good.
Not bothering with a shower, I slipped into a pair of tattered sweatpants and a torn shirt. I pushed my bedroom door open to find bright light streaming in through the sky lights. The smell of coffee was thick in the air as I walked down the hallway in the direction of Ethan’s room. Peering through the darkness of his room, I took in his sleeping and peaceful face with a sigh of relief. At least he was getting some sleep. Dealing with a grumpy and exhausted three-year old made life even more difficult.
I found my father sitting in the same place he always sat every single morning at the head of the dining room table. The television was clicked on, but he currently hid behind the local newspaper with a plate of banana peels and half-eaten apple slices in front of him. He lowered the newspaper to look over at me with a wide smile. The front of his shirt was soaked from his morning run around the property.
“Good morning,” he said cheerfully. “How did you sleep last night?”
I grabbed one of the coffee mugs that were set out on the dining room table. “I slept fine. It’s Ethan that I’m worried about.”
“Nightmares?”
“Every single night since we left,” I said. “I need to get some oatmeal started for him. Do you need anything else?”
He picked up the newspaper again. “Not at the moment, sweetheart. Thank you for thinking of me, though.”
I moved about the kitchen with ease and familiarity, despite being crowded with the kitchen staff, along with the security detail who were enjoying a cup of coffee in the breakfast nook. There were only three years of my life that I had lived somewhere else, and coming back to the chaos of my parents’ mansion felt natural
. I poured water into a small pot to boil on the large kitchen stove before going back upstairs to get Ethan up for the day.
His eyes, bright blue and innocent, were already open when I opened the door slowly to let a small amount of morning light in. A wide and happy smile spread across his face. Relief went through me at the sight of it. I hated to see his sweet face stretched into a sad frown, or a terrified one.
I couldn’t imagine letting Ethan out of my sight. The thought sent cold chills down my spine. Scott’s threats were echoing in my head again. “You can’t just take my kid. You have no evidence that I’m a bad parent. I don’t care who your father is, or the team of lawyers he’s hired for you. Ethan will be with me.”
“Morning, baby,” I murmured, smoothing his unruly blonde hair locks back. “Sleep good?”
“Yes,” Ethan said. He kicked his blankets back eagerly to reveal his Paw Patrol pajamas. “Is Papa downstairs?”
“Yes. Papa is downstairs eating breakfast.” I pressed a kiss to Ethan’s warm forehead. “Shall we join him?”
Ethan nodded eagerly. I scooped him up into my arms, relishing in that warm and heavy weight of him on my hip. This time, my father set his newspaper down all the way when we entered the kitchen.
“Morning, Papa!” Ethan exclaimed happily.
He squirmed excitedly on my hip as I transferred him over to settle happily down on my father’s lap. I left the two of them to talk as they always did now to finish up the oatmeal in the kitchen to find it already done. One of the maids smiled at me when I picked up the small bowl from the counter in surprise.
“I hope you don’t mind,” she said. “I know Ethan loves oatmeal, and the water was already boiling by the time you went back up to get him.”
“No, it’s fine,” I said, and offered a small smile. “Thank you. It’s going to take some time getting used to having you all back around again.”
“Whatever you need, ma’am. We’re here for you.”
I took the bowl of oatmeal out for Ethan to enjoy. While my father settled him into a chair, I set the bowl down to gaze out at the snowy landscape. Ethan would enjoy sledding down the small hill behind the mansion. I chewed on my lip in contemplation. It would at least give him something to do rather than bounce around the mansion in boredom until my father came home.
“Amber?”
“Hmm?”
“Did you hear a single word that I said?”
“No,” I said, turning to look back at my father with an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry. What were you saying?”
“I asked what your plans were this morning,” he repeated with an exasperated sigh. “Other than moping around the mansion with Ethan, getting into trouble.”
I shrugged my shoulders. “Nothing. I have no plans today.”
“You need to get out of this house.” He reached across the table to grab a pot of coffee from the middle of the table. “I’m serious, Amber. I’ve talked to your mother on the phone about you moping about here.”
“I’m sure she had plenty to say about it,” I remarked, gladly accepting a cup of coffee. “When is Mom coming back from France?”
“You know how much fashion week means to your mother.” Both of us smiled at that. “In a few weeks from what I understand. She wants to stay until the end of everything.”
“Sounds typical,” I said.
“Which brings me to my next point,” he continued on, wiping Ethan’s mouth clean of oatmeal. “I have to return to DC with the new year around the corner to prepare. I don’t feel very comfortable leaving you behind here in Colorado while you’re moping around, or with Scott all over the tabloids.”
“I’ll be fine, Dad. I just need some time to get through everything.”
“Time is running out, Amber,” he said. “You’ve missed two appointments with the lawyers that I’m paying for to navigate you through this. Your mother and I are worried that you are falling back.”
I took a sip of coffee with a sigh. “I’m not falling back, Dad. I can’t be a person and just grieve the end of my marriage? I’m not a robot here. I do have a heart and a child to worry about.”
“It was abusive. It wasn’t a marriage. You were miserable for the three years you were gone. Those are your words, Amber. Not mine.”
“Don’t go politician on me,” I snapped, lowering my mug to glare at him. “You’re twisting all my words around. That’s what you do best. I said there were some good moments in there, too. You honestly think that I would marry Scott knowing that he had a demon attached to his back?”
“Hell, Amber. I have no idea what was going on in your head.” He smoothed a hand through his silver flecked hair with an aggravated sigh. “I’m just trying to make sure that you and Ethan will be okay. I’m starting to worry about this funk you are in.”
“I’m not in a funk,” I said defensively. “I’m just grieving is all.”
“Right. Any plans today?”
I caught a strange look on my father’s face as he picked up the newspaper again. He was up to something, and it put me on guard instantly.
“None,” I replied slowly. “What about you?”
He flipped the page of the newspaper instead of replying. The ding of the doorbell interrupted the wordless conversation. I half-listened to one of the maids answer the front door while studying the grin on my father’s face.
“Ah, Gage,” he said, rising up from his chair. “It’s good to see you again. Come sit down and have some breakfast with us.”
I twisted around in my chair. Gage Devlin. My heart pounded furiously in my chest as I took in the man I had crushed on since I was fifteen years old. It had been a few years. The last time I had seen Gage was at my high school graduation party, and even then, it had been a quick exchange of congratulations.
He was just as drop dead sexy as the last I remembered him, if not even more. A bit of gray had started to creep through his chocolate brown hair that he kept styled back from a pair of icy blue eyes that could pierce right through me. His chest and shoulders were broad from years of hiking around the rugged country of Montana. He towered over the table easily as he took a seat next to Ethan who immediately slipped out of his chair to my father’s lap.
Sweat pooled in the palms of my hands when Gage looked across the table at me. Gage had no idea, no fucking idea, how many times I had fantasized about having him in my bed. Everything about him screamed pure masculinity, and my stomach fluttered at the smell of his cologne filtering through the haze of breakfast.
I ran a hand self-consciously over my tangled hair that felt greasy. I still had yesterday’s make up on as well. A little warning would’ve been nice, Dad. I swallowed thickly as Gage accepted a cup of coffee with a gracious smile that made my knees wobble. Then again, Dad, you have no idea how much I’ve thought about sleeping with this man.
I slammed those thoughts away. They were taboo and wrong. Gage was my dad’s best friend, and he would never consider that sort of thing. He was still grieving the loss of his wife.
My father patted Ethan on the shoulder soothingly. “It’s all right, Ethan. This is Papa’s good friend. You can trust him.”
“Hi, Ethan,” Gage said, smiling. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”
Ethan didn’t respond. He buried his head into my father’s shoulder, hiding his face from everyone. My hands were trembling when I picked up my mug of coffee again.
“What’s going on?” I asked.
Gage looked over at me in surprise. “Your father hasn’t said a word to you?”
The deep rumble of Gage’s voice brought out a mixture of emotions in me. I clenched my jaw to keep control of my frayed nerves before looking at Gage.
“No,” I said tightly. “I’m a bit surprised to see you here.”
“Your father asked me to come here,” he said and instantly looked uncomfortable. “I thought he would’ve told you what he and I talked about yesterday at the country club.”
“What are you planning?” I asked, gl
aring at my father who kept one arm wrapped around Ethan. “What tricks are you up to?”
“They aren’t tricks,” he said, oblivious to the tension. “I’m leaving tomorrow for D.C. to prepare, as I told you. Your mother won’t be back for another month. Neither one of us feel comfortable leaving you alone here with Ethan during that gap of time with the mood you have been in.”
“And?”
“I asked Gage to assume the role of being your caretaker while I’m gone.”
My jaw dropped open in horror. There was no way in hell that my father could be serious about Gage watching out over me. I was twenty-five years old. I had learned to take care of myself years ago without the help of any of the staff in the Roselyn house.
