His tension was visible in his corded neck muscles. “I am not your father, Pamela. You know how important this was to me. I’m sorry I couldn’t give you the building for the shelter, but I promise, I’ll find a way to fix this.”
“Was the building more important to you than me?” He stumbled back a few steps and she forged ahead, pressing her advantage. “With my father it was always important. Every time he missed something or forgot me, it was for something important. So answer me, was getting the Holcombe more important than keeping me? Was it more important than keeping your wife? Was it more important than keeping the woman who loves you?”
Shock darkened his blue eyes, making it impossible to read any other emotion whirling in their stormy depths.
“I—” he croaked.
“I guess so.” Her body ballooned with despair. She had to get out of there, could feel the breakdown coming and couldn’t be anywhere near him when it happened. She opened the door.
“Pamela, I don’t want this to be over.”
“You’re a coward, Marcus. Those words are empty platitudes. Of course you wanted this to be over.”
…
“I reviewed the final contract and everything is in order. I e-mailed you a copy. Did you look at it?”
Marcus didn’t respond to Carter’s question. He kept his back to his friend, his gaze trained on the golden spire in the distance.
After all these years, it would finally be his.
Carter cleared his throat. “Have you seen Pamela?”
He looked away from the window. “No.”
“Have you talked to her?”
“No.” It had been four days. Like a timekeeper, he was aware of every day, hour, and minute that passed since their confrontation. He mistakenly thought a few hours to calm down would help her to understand his position. But she never returned. The light and energy her presence created had been extinguished.
“She didn’t take the news well?”
“We’re not talking about this.”
“I can’t believe you’re going to let her get away because of a building.”
“That building is important to me!”
Even he was getting tired of that statement. He’d said that exact sentence, or some variation, countless times over the years.
“Important enough to risk your happiness?”
After his father died, there was no happiness, only a churning feeling in his midsection, driving him to work harder, to be better. So one day he could stand before David Holcombe and prove him wrong.
He mattered. He was somebody.
But the storm in his stomach had calmed ever since Pamela charged onto the golf course, shifting his focus and changing his mind. Work had been his entire life, but he’d downsized its importance. Eating dinner and then sitting next to her on the sofa while he did work and she watched one of her god-awful reality shows had become the highlight of his week.
But it wasn’t real. He’d thought it was, but he’d been wrong.
“You don’t have to understand my decisions to do your job. What time is the meeting?”
“In an hour.”
“Focus on my business concerns, not my personal ones.”
There was no sound for a full minute. Had Carter left? Marcus turned in his chair and found the other man staring at him, his lips pressed tight. Finally, Carter stood.
“I’ll have Julia buzz you when we’re settled in the conference room.”
Marcus turned back to his view and focused on the golden spire.
“A Holcombe has been the owner and operator of the hotel for three generations,” David Holcombe said. “I couldn’t bear to part with it if I wasn’t sure it was going to a quality family.”
The emphasis the man put on the word “quality” irked Marcus. He stood in the corner of the conference room, his eyes still on the spire. Behind him the muffled roll of caster wheels on carpet indicated people taking a seat at the long table. He heard the murmurs of assistants offering the guests coffee and water.
“We’re ready,” Carter said, his voice cool and professional.
Marcus nodded and kept his eyes on the spire.
“Any thoughts on the Pearson reign of ownership? I have some ideas that might help you get it ready for the next generation, but they’re only opinions. After all, she’s your baby now.”
There was no mistaking the glee in Holcombe’s voice and it was that tone of triumph, more than his words, that caused Marcus to turn and frown at his nemesis. None of his dreams about this moment ever involved Holcombe being happy with the outcome.
For the first time, he noticed that in addition to Holcombe and his legal entourage, Vivian had a seat at the table. Marcus inclined his head in her direction.
“I didn’t know we were inviting our wives to the meeting.” He ignored the prick of pain the mention of spouses elicited.
“Vivian is…uh…participating in our transaction. When you transfer the new building over to me, it will go into her name, not mine.” He smiled and dabbed at his forehead with a pocket square. “A business decision, that’s all.”
Despite his smile, displeasure hovered around Holcombe’s eyes. In that moment, Marcus needed this meeting to be concluded. He wanted the papers signed and the Holcombes out of his sight. He nodded at Carter, who moved to the front of the room.
“Let’s get started.” Carter pointed to the legal assistants standing against the wall. They circled the table, handing out gold-embossed leather portfolios. “You’re receiving a copy of the contract. If you turn to page one…”
Marcus tuned him out.
He’d made the right choice. The only choice. When he got the Holcombe, everything would be made right.
He waited.
For the sense of accomplishment to flow over him. For the sense of peace to confirm he’d finally accomplished his goal. For the feeling of satisfaction for proving Holcombe wrong.
He stood there and waited. Nothing came.
His head was filled with thoughts of Pamela. Was she at the shelter? Or had she gone back to the estate? Wherever she was, whatever she was doing, he was certain she never wanted to see him again. He recalled the look on her face when he told her he’d given the building to Holcombe.
I’m pretty sure your mom wouldn’t want you to do this for her. No matter what she went through with Holcombe, she would want you to be happy, to go on with your life.
Was Pamela right?
“Now you’ll notice here, under clause twenty-eight, subsection B, we’ve included the stipulations regarding…”
In a matter of minutes, a years-long dream would be realized.
And he didn’t care.
She said he’d broken her heart…that she loved him. A woman who in no way resembled the selfish, brainless socialite he’d assumed her to be. A woman who’d possessed the strength to go against everyone in her life to help women and children in need.
Did he have the strength to determine the right thing for him? It wasn’t operating a hotel. He’d never wanted to be in the hospitality business.
Was it spending a fortune to tear the building down? He was in business to make money, not throw it away. It was a well-known hotel in an ideal location. Tearing it down made no business sense.
In terms of fortune, Holcombe was still coming out on top. He was selling his hotel and getting another potentially lucrative property in the process. Holcombe was getting what he wanted.
And what do I want? There was no hesitation, no doubt in his mind.
Pamela. He wanted his wife and the life they’d created.
His mother had urged him to leave what happened to her in the past and move forward, but he’d been unable to do so. She’d never wanted him to buy the Holcombe.
Oh, God.
Suddenly, he knew. This wasn’t about his mother.
It never had been.
“Now, if you’ll turn to the signature page, we’re heading into the final stretch…”
Marc
us saw David Holcombe’s face wreathed in smiles as he reached for a pen.
“Stop,” he said.
Every head in the room swiveled in Marcus’s direction.
“Is something wrong?” Carter asked. “We’re getting ready to sign.”
He realized for the first time how small Holcombe was, how insignificant. “You can have the building on G Street, but only if the shelter is allowed to remain.” Holcombe’s face turned red and his eyes widened in an alarming manner.
“Preposterous! I will not have a bunch of…vagrants living on my property.” Vivian Holcombe turned her nose up in disdain.
“Not a problem, since it isn’t your property.”
“You can’t do that, Pearson. We had a deal.”
“Nope,” Carter said, reaching quickly for the paperwork in front of the man. “We have a deal when we have properly executed documents.”
With a snap of his fingers, the legal assistants swiftly removed all packets from the table. David Holcombe placed his fists on the table and pushed himself to his feet.
“What do you think you’re doing? I demand to know what is going on.”
Marcus looked at the man. The moment of truth. “Do you know who I am?”
“What?”
“Do you know who I am?”
Holcombe narrowed his eyes. “Is this some sort of joke? An ego trip for you? If so, it’s not appreciated.”
Everything was crystal clear to Marcus. Every decision he’d made had been measured against how it would help him get to David Holcombe. The college and graduate school he attended, the courses he took, the major he studied. All done in an effort to prove something to this man. A man who’d destroyed a family’s life in one minute and forgot about it in the next. It never would have occurred to Holcombe to worry about the effect of his actions. Marcus had given him a lot of power. Now, he felt foolish.
“I’m no longer interested in your hotel. The deal is off.”
“You can’t do this.” Panic mangled Holcombe’s words.
“Watch me.”
“I’ll reduce the price. Will that get the ball rolling again?”
“No.”
Marcus headed for the doors.
“Pearson, wait! I need to sell this hotel.”
Vivian clutched Holcombe’s arm. “David, where is he going? We didn’t sign the papers. I thought you said we were getting rid of it today. We’re running out of time.”
“Shut up, Vivian.”
“The payment is due in two weeks. We don’t have time for another round of contract negotiations with a new buyer. You can’t let him off the hook!”
Holcombe wrenched his arm away and turned back to Marcus. “What will it take? Your first bid? Below market value? Name your price.”
Marcus didn’t respond. Without a backward glance, he walked out of the conference room.
“This is your fault.” The surprisingly lucid tone of Vivian Holcombe followed him. “You had to string him along, make him want it more.”
“Vivian, please.”
“You, with your needing the ‘right’ buyer. We could have gotten rid of it months ago.”
Marcus smiled slightly and headed for the elevator, leaving the golden spire of the Holcombe gleaming in the distance.
Chapter Eighteen
Pamela let herself into the estate, shutting the door behind her. The sound bounced off the marble floors and echoed throughout the foyer, emphasizing the emptiness. The midday sun shone through the spotless transom windows.
She hurried to her rooms, thankful she’d planned her visit perfectly. The Senator was probably on the Hill, wining and dining members of Congress. Alice had lunch with her ladies’ group on Tuesdays and would be gone all afternoon. Pamela wanted to get in and out without alerting anyone to her presence. She’d stayed at the Four Seasons the past few days, but she’d gone through the clothes she took when she left Marcus’s house. She couldn’t bear to go back and have memories torment her. The estate seemed the lesser of two evils. Afterward, she was meeting Shelly at the shelter.
She felt nauseous. The women’s shelter…
She glanced at her alarm clock and saw it was after one o’clock. Marcus would have scheduled the signing for the morning, anxious to finally achieve his goal. So it was done. Marcus had signed the papers. He was the proud new owner of the Holcombe and David Holcombe now owned the women’s shelter building.
Thankfully, some wisdom had come from this experience. She couldn’t marry a man who wouldn’t put her first. And what about their children? Did she want to be married to a man who would put his business interests before his children’s well-being? She remembered how she’d felt as a child and knew that wasn’t a consideration. She didn’t trust that he wouldn’t lose his priorities to another big deal. And if she couldn’t trust him to put her first, they had no future together.
Annoyed to find herself crying—again—she brushed her hand over her eyes and got back to work. She heard a noise and spun around to find her father standing in the doorway. He was impeccably dressed, as usual, but dark circles bruised his eyes and tension carved new lines into his face. He looked exhausted.
Steeling her heart, she continued packing. “I thought you’d gone to the Hill today. I won’t be long. I needed a few things.”
His presence drew the fresh air from the room, leaving her suffocating in the thick silence left behind.
The waiting game.
Sorry, Dad, you’ll have to play that game by yourself. She was no longer participating in his mental recreational activities.
“If there’s nothing else…”
He cleared his throat. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen you here, in your room.”
“Marcus and I have been busy.”
Saying his name added another contusion to her heart.
“I’m not surprised. Men like Pearson don’t understand the importance of tradition and family. He probably keeps you occupied on purpose so you can’t visit.”
“I know you find this hard to believe, but I have my own mind.”
The words burst out of her, the dam built by upbringing and societal politeness fracturing into a million little pieces.
“You made your feelings clear. Marcus was not what you wanted for me, but that wasn’t your decision to make. He was my choice, and you should have respected it. But you can’t respect what you don’t see, and we both know you’ve never seen me.”
“I wish that were true. The problem is I see too much. You are the youthful embodiment of your mother.”
Her lips parted at his words. He never mentioned her resemblance to her mother.
“You must be disappointed I’m not more like her.”
“You’re exactly like her. Not in the things you do,” he amended when she crossed her arms over her chest, “but in your heart, your compassion. That’s all your mother. She made me promise to take care of you and I thought that meant making you in her image.”
He came farther into the room, sinking onto the edge of her antique Victorian chaise longue. He dropped his head into his hands.
“I tried to do what she wanted, but I failed. I’m your father, but Alice has been more of a parent to you than I ever was.”
He looked up, and Pamela was astonished to see tears pooling in his eyes.
“I’m sorry, Pamela. Despite my incompetent efforts, all I’ve ever wanted is for you to be happy.”
Pamela slid to her knees before her father and put her arms around his neck. They held each other for a long time. Later she would dissect every word and phrase. Right now it felt good to be in his arms.
She needed to make a decision about her future. What made her happy? What did she want to do with her life? She knew she had to start putting herself first, not the family, but the Senator wouldn’t understand.
Maybe not, but she needed her father to understand.
She took a deep breath. You can do this, Pamela. She lifted her chin to look into her father’s eyes, heed
less of the tears streaming down her face.
“Daddy, there’s something I need to tell you. About Devin.”
Pamela moved to the next item on the list, determined to finish this workshop despite being unable to muster the enthusiasm the women deserved. She should have listened to Shelly and taken a couple of days off, but she thought if she could immerse herself in work, she could put off dealing with her anguish and the breakdown that was sure to come.
“Avoid office politics. You can never win in those situations.” The door to the shelter’s rec room opened. “I need a few more minutes, Shelly.”
“And I need to see my wife.”
Marcus stood in the doorway. Despite her frustration, a wave of euphoria swept through her and the papers slipped from her fingers to the floor.
It had been a day since the signing, five days since she’d last seen him. Her eyes devoured him, like a starving woman given chocolate. His blond hair was swept back off his forehead. His blue eyes glittered feverishly, the hunger in them unmistakable. They swept her from head to toe.
She shivered, her body blooming beneath his gaze. She hated the effect he had on her, even after he broke her heart. “What are you doing here?”
“Looking for you.”
She shook her head and gestured to the eight women sitting in a semicircle. “This isn’t the place.”
“If you’re here, then this is where I need to be.”
Her throat tightened and she clutched her elbows, trying to hold herself together. “Why are you doing this? Nothing has changed.”
“You’re wrong. Everything has changed. Look, can we go somewhere and talk?”
He started toward her, and she took several steps away from him. One of the women, Robyn, stood up and faced Marcus. “You’re the one Shelly and Pamela were talking about? You’re the reason the shelter has to move?”
“Dammit, Pamela—”
The other women rose from their chairs and faced Marcus, forming a human barrier between them.
“You should go.”
The Tycoon's Socialite Bride (Entangled Indulgence) Page 17
