Shaking her head with a smile, despite herself Crystal said, “Um—no, she really doesn’t.”
“All righty, then.” Mia stood and began pacing the small office. “So you’ll talk to her and then move on to Mark’s parents. If you can show them all that you won’t be cowering in the corner like some wallflower, then Mark’s concerns won’t matter. He’ll know you’re capable of kicking ass and taking names whenever you want. Maybe we could even get you some of those platform boots—kind of like a uniform, or . . .”
Slashing her hands in a cutting motion, Gwen looked at Mia and said, “Rein it in, Rambo. I think Crystal gets the point. There’s no need for us to dress her like Xena the Warrior Princess.”
Crystal waited until their bickering had subsided before saying, “I can deal with my mother, but Mark’s parents? I have no clue where to even find them if I wanted to. Plus, his father would probably squash me like a bug.”
“Oh, screw that old goat,” Mia snapped. “Why don’t you talk to his cousin—what’s his name? Kenny?”
“Denny,” Crystal answered absently. Pushing a hand through her hair, she stared at her friends before finally blowing out a breath. “Let me think about it, okay? I don’t want to take a bad situation and make it worse.”
“Absolutely,” Gwen encouraged softly. “Give it some thought and let us know how we can help you. Just don’t give up, Crys. I’ve seen you and Mark together, and you’re perfect for each other. You click.”
After the other women had left with promises to check on her later, Crystal relaxed back in her chair and thought of their suggestion to confront the three people responsible for taking Mark away from her. She’d never been a person who dealt well with conflict. As much as it pained her to admit it, Mark was correct in the respect that it would be hard on her if his parents continued to attack her. But she had learned that she wanted to be with someone who could meet her needs, both physically and emotionally. What it all boiled down to was she would either have to be stronger than she’d ever imagined possible or leave him without a fight so that he could someday find another woman who was willing to fight for him. And, oh, how the last thought stung.
Chapter Twenty-two
A charity fund-raiser was the last place that Mark wanted to be. He stood off to the side of the banquet room, brooding as he drank ridiculously expensive scotch from fine crystal. It had always seemed ironic to him that fund-raisers served only the best to help the less fortunate. Hell, why didn’t they just have a simple gathering and donate the event money? It would probably be enough to feed the homeless of Charleston for months.
He had already dropped off a check from the DeSanto Group and was preparing to make his exit when a hand wrapped around his arm. “Mark, I thought that was you,” said a vaguely familiar female voice. Turning, he gave his first genuine smile of the evening as Margot Rush beamed up at him. They’d grown up together and had connected from time to time when he was in town. She was a gorgeous woman, but he’d never had the desire to sleep with her, and luckily, she’d always felt the same. Much like his relationship with Ava Stone, Margot was a friend who he enjoyed spending time with when their paths crossed.
“It’s good to see to see you again, beautiful.” He grinned as he pulled her into an embrace before dropping a brief kiss on her upturned lips. That affectionate gesture was as far as it ever went with them. It felt comforting and familiar, which he very much appreciated tonight. As they stood catching up on each other’s lives, he could almost pretend for a moment that he wasn’t a truly miserable fuck. Seeing her tonight could well save him from another evening of staring at the walls at home and missing Angel. Maybe the tide was beginning to turn for him.
• • •
Crystal stood before the double doors of the Oceanix penthouse suite. Her stomach roiled, and she fought the urge to throw up in the opulent hallway. Ever since Denny had called to let her know that, strangely enough, the DeSantos were still in Myrtle Beach, she’d wanted to call a halt to this crazy plan to get Mark back. Really, how much of her would possibly be left after Marcus DeSanto chewed her up and spit her out? Denny had offered to accompany her, but that wouldn’t be the same. She would still be depending on someone else to fight her battles. Even if things went south—which they were likely to—at least she’d have the comfort of knowing that she’d tried.
So, taking a deep breath, she stood ramrod straight and knocked on the door. When it opened, she felt her shoulders slump slightly at the sight of Celine DeSanto staring at her in shock. Finally, her good manners appeared to kick in and she said smoothly, “This is surprising. Crystal, isn’t it?” Then looking around, she asked in confusion, “Is Mark with you?”
“No, he isn’t,” Crystal replied. “I wondered if I could speak to you for a few moments.”
Celine looked uncertain before glancing behind her and lowering her voice. “Give me five minutes and I’ll meet you in the coffee shop in the lobby.”
Please tell me she won’t be bringing her husband, Crystal prayed inwardly as she took the elevator back down to the bottom floor. She walked past some of the swank boutiques before finding the place that Celine had indicated. She ordered a vanilla latte and found a quiet table in the corner.
Surprisingly, Celine was on time, and after giving her a nod of acknowledgment, she bought a drink for herself, and then slowly approached, pulling out a chair. Crystal had to give the other woman credit. Even on short notice, she looked cool, elegant, and polished. Plus, she could have easily passed for Mark’s sister rather than his mother. Her hair didn’t appear to have any gray and her figure was one that most women would envy. Aside from her coloring, though, it was her eyes that resembled her son the most. Striving to keep the quaver from her voice, Crystal said, “Thank for you agreeing to see me. I know I should have called first, but . . .”