“She was never a tramp.” Declan turned away, running a hand through his hair. He would never get his father to admit he was wrong. Arrogant prick. “You should have fucking told me.”
Rory pursed his lips. “Maybe. But if you’d really wanted her back then, you would never have left.”
Declan crossed to the cabinet where he knew his father kept the scotch and pulled out the bottle and a couple of glasses. He placed them on the desk.
“Don’t we get offered any?” Logan asked.
“Get it yourself.” He poured an inch into each and handed one to his father, who eyed him suspiciously, but took the glass and swallowed the drink.
“You going to hit me again?”
“Maybe.” But he sank down into the chair opposite his father’s, legs stretched out in front of him, and sipped the drink while he examined his new boots. There was more he wanted to know and if he had to beat the answers out of his father, well, he was willing to do it. But he didn’t think it would come to that.
“Why did you employ Knight Security? And why did you specifically ask for Jess?”
His father swirled the amber liquid around in his glass while he considered the answer. Why did Declan get the impression that whatever it was he wasn’t going to like it?”
But it was his mother who actually spoke first. “That might be my fault,” she said.
Declan turned his gaze on her. His mother was still beautiful and looked what she was, fifty-five years old, well-cared for, rich…
“Your father married me because I was respectable. I married him because he was not. It was my one rebellion in life. But we only married on the understanding that he would go legitimate and put his bad ways behind him. Your father was not a good man.”
“Still isn’t,” Declan muttered.
“But I was determined you were not going to be the same. So you were brought up to know your duty, and you were a good boy. Better than we could have asked for.”
“Are we going to get to the point?” Declan asked. Jess would be here soon, and he wanted answers first. Wanted to know how to move forward and his mother wasn’t telling him anything he didn’t already know.
“The point is, we went too far. You were too good. You were the perfect son, never a foot wrong.”
“Except the summer you were eighteen,” his father put in.
Jess.
“And after that you were even worse. Always perfect.”
“I wasn’t that bad,” Declan muttered.
“Baby brother,” Logan put in, “you’re a goddamned machine.”
Declan ignored the comment, and his mother continued, “I thought when you became engaged to Penny, things would be better, but in fact they were worse. She was just another symptom. I was glad when you split up. I told your father he had to do something.”
“Something?”
“Shake you up, bring you back to life. Come on, Declan, tell me, are you happy? Have you ever been happy?”
“Once.” He swallowed his drink, leaned forward, and poured another. He glanced up at his father. “So employing Jess was just your way of stirring things up. Stirring me up.”
He shrugged. “If I’m honest, I’d given up. You were the perfect businessman. Hard to remember you were my son. But you got no pleasure from it. And I had no clue how to reach you. By the time you took that bullet I was willing to try anything. Jesus, I stood across from you in that hospital, you’d just been shot, and all you could think of was getting to some bloody meeting on time.”
It appeared that Jess wasn’t the only one to see through him, after all. He hadn’t realized his family had felt like this about him. Had he really been so bad? “So you interfered? Again.”
“When her name came up on the file, I couldn’t believe it. Didn’t at first—I presumed it had to be someone else. You know she has a medal for gallantry under fire.”
No he hadn’t. The report hadn’t mentioned that.
“She’s a goddamn hero. I would have put her down as a model or an actress. God, she was a beauty before that scar.”
He gritted his teeth. “She’s still a beauty.”
“I am so looking forward to meeting this woman,” Logan said.
Declan leaned forward, glared at his brother. “Keep the hell away from her.”
“Not a chance in hell, baby brother.”
“So, yes,” Rory said. “I thought she might stir things up a little. Bring you back to life.” His gaze dropped down over Declan, and his lips twitched. “And looking at you now, I’m guessing she succeeded.”
“But what for? Why bother?”
“Because you’re my son and I love you.”
The thing was, Declan didn’t doubt it. He sprawled back in his chair and scrutinized his father. “Well, I hope you’re not anticipating a happy ever after here because according to Jess, that’s never going to happen.” He nodded at the check that lay on the table between them. “She had that framed on her bedroom wall.”
Rory grinned. “You know, I actually like her.”
“I don’t think the feeling is mutual. And pity you didn’t realize that ten years ago.”
“Oh, I realized it, but it would never have worked back then. You were both too young and whatever you say—that girl had issues.”
“Yeah, and you really helped with those.”
“I’m not a fucking social worker. And it will all work out in the end.”
“Love will find a way,” Logan added, amusement clear in his voice.
“Jesus.” Declan raked a hand through his hair. His family thought he was a fucking goddamned robot. And a miserable, un-fun-loving bastard. And they were no doubt right. After Jess, he’d stopped fighting it, just accepted his role in life, hadn’t cared enough to change anything.
He remembered Jess saying that they were still so different. That even if they overcame the most obvious obstacles there would always be that fundamental difference between them.
But he was going to show her she was wrong.
The phone rang on the desk, and Rory picked it up and listened. “That was Pete. The guests are arriving and your girlfriend has just turned up.”
The three on the sofa all stood as one. “I can’t remember when I last looked forward to a party quite so much,” Logan murmured as he passed Declan.
“I’m so glad one of us is having fun.”
He didn’t move as they all exited leaving him alone with his father.