“Because you’re pacing. If you knew what they were talking about, you wouldn’t be outside the door, trying so hard to listen in, would you?”
“Are you always such a know-it-all asshole?” Molly asked in a saccharine tone.
“Pretty much.” He leaned closer. “And doesn’t it rankle that you’re not allowed in the inner sanctum? For being the first girlfriend Deacon has brought home in years, you don’t rate high enough to be involved in this family discussion?”
Stung, because he’d zeroed in on her insecurity, she retorted, “If you know so much about what’s going on, why don’t you tell me?”
“Because it’s so much more fun to watch you twist in the wind and freak out about not knowing.”
God. Clive was just like her cousins.
“I saw how you reacted last night when Deacon spoke of his upcoming fight.” His eyes gleamed with malice. “That was the first you’d heard of it. So I have to wonder if my cousin tells you anything important. How long were you together before he told you about Dante and the accident?”
Molly’s face heated.
“Ah, a while, then. Even longer, I’ll bet, before he gave you the rest of the story.”
Don’t listen to him.
“So are you one of those women who will excuse anything that ‘Con Man’ the big-time fighter says or does just because you’re so thankful he’s with you?” Clive gave her a cruel once-over. “Even without the trust fund, Deacon is out of your league.”
“You know nothing about the man he is now.”
“On the contrary, I know he is violent and self-centered. He’s got an immense ego and a chip on his shoulder the size of Texas. He’s the same privileged prick he’s always been. Nothing changes with him. He does what he wants and damn the consequences.”
Ooh. Sounds like Clive has his cousin pegged, doesn’t it?
The voices in the room escalated.
“The smartest thing for you to do is to walk away from him. Because sooner or later, he will drive you away. That’s who he is and what he does.”
“Why do you care?”
“That’s the thing—I don’t care. But this whole situation is a train wreck, and I can’t look away.”
“I’d think you’d want him in a good place, Clive.”
His eyes narrowed into snakelike slits. “Why?”
“So he doesn’t throw his support behind Tag to sell JFW and you’re out on your ass.”
“Deacon telling you confidential information about a possible upcoming official vote will be seen as a breach of confidentiality, and he won’t be allowed to vote. That may even get him kicked off the board.” His grin defined evil, and she shivered. “You just couldn’t help yourself, could you? Proving me wrong that Deacon does talk to you about important things.”
Oh god. How had she fallen for that? “But—”
The door opened and Julianne hustled out, tears streaming down her face.
Clive intercepted her. “Aunt Julianne? What’s going on?”
She shook her head. “Personal family business that he just—” Julianne glared at Molly. “Why are you still hanging around?”
“I thought Deacon might need me.”
“Why don’t you be a good little girlfriend and go wait for him in bed at the hotel?” she snapped.
Molly wanted to crawl into a hole. But first she wanted to puke.
Except you brought this on yourself. She thinks you’re fine being Deacon’s sexual plaything.
Dammit. Stuff like this always came back to bite her in the ass.
Before she could explain, Clive had his arm around Julianne’s shoulders and was leading her away.
When ten more minutes passed and Deacon still hadn’t appeared, Molly had enough of waiting around and supposing.
She had plans of her own to make.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
THE next morning Tag fell into step with Deacon as he started down the hallway at the JFW office building.
“You’re early.” He checked out Deacon’s clothing—the sport coat and dress slacks he’d worn to the country club last night. “And you don’t look like a bum. What’s up? Did you just get out of jail or something?”
“Nope.” Deacon punched the elevator button and leaned against the wall. “Fuck, I’m tired.”
“Molly keep you up all night?”
Deacon scowled at him.
“Not the kiss-and-tell type. Gotta respect that.” Tag leaned next to him. “How was Molly this morning?”
“I imagine she was fine. Why?”
“Imagine? Weren’t you with her at the hotel?”
“No. I had to deal with the fallout after confronting Julianne and Dad. It took longer than I expected.” The details weren’t something he wanted to share with his cousin.
Tag stepped in front of him. “But you were with Molly last night? After the party?”
He narrowed his eyes. “Why’re you bein’ so fucking nosy about where I was?”
“Answer the question, Deacon.”
“No. I didn’t go back to the hotel last night. Like I said, some shit came to a head with my folks. Dad refused to go home. Then, when I went to find Molly to tell her what was going on, she’d already left. When I returned to Dad, he’d decided to down half a bottle of Jameson. He demanded I bring him here to his office. Then he spent an hour puking his guts out. Freaked me out, so I ended up staying with him.” And after his twenty-mile run, his lack of sleep the night before, the stress with the fight, finding out about Warren, the board meeting shit, it was more like he passed out when he hit the couch in the reception area upstairs at one a.m. “Why?”
“When was the last time you talked to Molly?”
“Before the thing went down with my folks.”
“How did she seem then?”
Fucking questions. “What do you mean, how did she seem?”
“Was she upset? Mad? Still crying?”
“Why was she crying?” His gut clenched. In that moment he knew he’d fucked up yet again.
Tag loomed over him. “From what I saw, you left her alone almost the whole goddamn night at the club, and then you didn’t bother to tell her what was going on between you and your parents. Then Clive got his hooks into her, so why the fuck do you think she was crying, douche bag?”
“What did Clive say to her?”
“He said by you talking to her about a possible board vote, you violated your confidentiality agreement and he’d see you thrown off the board.”
“I’d fucking welcome that,” he snarled.
“But Molly doesn’t know that, does she? She thinks she screwed that up for you.”
Fear began to form thorns in his stomach.
“You wanna hear what she said to me when I saw her waiting for a cab? ‘Now I know where I stand with him, Tag. Behind him, not beside him.’”
Deacon inhaled and unclenched his fists. “I am one man. Yesterday and last night I was pulled in three different directions.”
“And none of them pulled you toward her? Then you’re an even bigger idiot than I imagined.”
Rage and shame filled him. In his frustration, he turned to punch the wall.
But Tag stepped forward and then crumpled inward when his belly absorbed the impact of Deacon’s fist.
“Why did you do that?” Deacon demanded, taken aback.
“The wall is cement, dipshit,” he wheezed. “You would’ve broken your fucking hand.”
“So you took one for the team?”
“I’ve got an iron gut.” Tag winced when he stood up straight. “You aren’t thinking clearly. You haven’t been since you stepped boots in Texas.”
“You have the fucking balls to say that to me? You’re the goddamn one pushing me to be here to support you on this ‘sell JFW’ bullshit.” And now that Deacon knew his dad had Warren as an heir? No fucking way would he take Warren’s future from him. “Officially, I’m no longer backing you, Tag. Selling isn’t the answer, and you know it.”
Tag scrubbed his hands over his face. “I know. Hearing Uncle Bing speak yesterday . . . I figured it’d be an uphill battle. Now I’m sorry I pushed you. I didn’t mean to set you at odds with your dad, D. The truth is, nothing is gonna change with JFW in the immediate future, so go deal with what you can change. Don’t fuck up your fight career because you fucked up with her. Just go fix it.”
Deacon turned and ran toward the door. He didn’t stop even when Tag yelled, “You’re welcome.”
* * *
FIFTEEN minutes later Deacon sat on the bed in their hotel room, Molly’s note in his hand.
Deacon,
You didn’t come back to the hotel last night. While I understand you had family matters on your mind, I at least deserved the courtesy of a phone call.
Fuck.
I don’t know what’s going on with your parents, with your board position and future at JFW, or what your plans are for after the Watson fight. I won’t berate you for keeping me on the sidelines of your decisions, but I can’t take this anymore either. I’ve gone back to Denver, where I belong. You have too many things on your mind and too much going on in your life right now to make our relationship a priority. That’s not a judgment call from me, but the truth.
What the ever-lovin’ fuck? Was she breaking up with him? He read on.
You have an incredible chance to prove yourself in the ring and to get to the next level in your career. So go to the camp in Laredo and train with Vasquez. Win against Watson.
You’ll be angry when you read this—but please let it go. Please don’t call me and leave pissed-off voice mails. Please don’t hop on a plane and return to Denver to confront me in person, because we both know you’d eventually blame me if you’re not prepared for the fight.
So take care of yourself. I’m sorry it came to this. We both know it’d be best if we don’t see each other for a while.
M~
“Wrong. You’ll be seeing me a lot goddamn sooner than you think, babe.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
BOOKING a last-minute flight meant Molly had two stops and a four-hour layover. It’d take her eight hours to reach Denver.
The lack of sleep the previous night caught up with her, and she managed to sneak in a nap at the airport. But the screaming baby two rows behind her on the last leg of the trip home kept her wide-awake, giving her time to think. She didn’t want to think. She wanted to block the past forty-eight hours from her memory banks entirely.
When she arrived in baggage claim at DIA, she remembered she’d ridden to the airport with Deacon. So it looked like she’d be taking a cab home.
As Molly stood in front of her apartment building with her luggage, she had a flashback of being in this exact same spot after Grams’s funeral, waiting for Deacon to park her car. Hard to believe that’d been less than two months ago.
After she’d showered and unpacked, she turned on her cell phone. She hadn’t wanted to deal with Deacon or anyone else while she’d been traveling.
Only one missed call—and not from Deacon. Disappointment slugged her in the gut. She listened to the voice mail Amery had left three hours ago.
“Hey, Mol. Got your text that you were coming back a day early.” Amery paused on the line. “With Ronin out of town, we need to discuss my expectations about the projects on tap this week. Come to the penthouse around nine. I’ll meet you at the Black Arts main entrance. Just text me when you get this message.”
Shit. Amery wasn’t requesting her appearance; she was demanding it. The longer the woman was married to Ronin, the more she became like him.
Good thing she hadn’t cracked open a bottle of wine since she’d be getting in her car.
To kill time, Molly jotted down a grocery list. No need to worry about Deacon’s dietary needs now. That was her tipping point. She’d managed to keep from breaking down, besides a few escaped tears here and there, but this time she didn’t even bother to try. She rested her forehead against the freezer door and sobbed.
Why did everything Deacon had told her about his relationship with his family seem meaningless in the face of his dismissive actions? That wasn’t the Deacon she knew. That wasn’t the man she’d fallen in love with. That wasn’t how a man who claimed to love her should treat her.
As the rush of tears slowed to a trickle, her misery didn’t cease. But she’d have put on a brave front for the next week as she figured out where she and Deacon went from here. At least she had the excuse of Deacon staying in Texas to keep people from knowing the truth.
Which is what? You left him because he hurt your feelings?
No. She left him because their relationship shouldn’t be a burden to him, and that’s how it’d started to feel. That’s how she’d started to feel too. She’d suffered through those feelings for too many years to not have it affect her so deeply.
Since she’d be in a work situation, Molly forced herself to put on makeup and dress appropriately. After slipping on her favorite pink knit halter dress and flip-flops, she grabbed her keys and tore off her grocery list—might as well get that out of the way. Halfway to her car, she lamented the fact she’d backslid into a woman who had nothing better to do than grocery shop on a Saturday night.
Cranking the tunes in her car helped calm her so she didn’t obsess over Amery’s summons. Or why she hadn’t heard from Deacon.
Stop it. You told him not to contact you. What did you expect?
A miracle, apparently.
By the time she reached the main door at Black Arts, Amery was waiting for her.
“Punctual, as usual.”
“Not smart to keep the boss waiting.”
Thankfully, Amery was too busy fussing with the excessive security system to comment on Molly’s bloodshot eyes rimmed with dark circles.
They took the elevator to the fifth floor and then switched to the private elevator for the penthouse. She’d been to Ronin and Amery’s place only two other times; Ronin was a fiercely private man.
Amery seemed preoccupied, which set Molly right back on edge. “Did you bring me here to fire me or something?”
“You’re funny.” She inserted a key into the panel and hit a button that had no floor number on it.
Holy shit. Amery was taking her to the roof. To the sanctuary she’d heard about but hadn’t seen firsthand.
“You’re definitely freaking me out, Mrs. Black.”
Amery didn’t look at her until the doors opened. “Why don’t you wait by the pool? It’s past the garden through the big door. Can’t miss it.”
“Amery—”
“Go.” She practically shoved Molly out of the elevator. “And please don’t be mad at me.” The elevator doors closed.
Why would Molly be mad at her? Dammit. What was going on?
Standing here glaring at the elevator door won’t answer your questions.
Molly breathed in deeply and exhaled before moving. As she walked down a short foyer, the rich, earthy scent of growing things filled her lungs. No lights illuminated the path through the