Broken Wings (A Romantic Suspense)(8)

“Yeah? Such as?”

“James Katzenberg is out. He’s in federal prison and he’ll never be a free man again. His son is dead, and the political network he built is in a shambles. He used to run half the state and now he’s gone. There’s a vacuum.”

“Right. I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“What I’m talking about is my plans to either dethrone or work with him to get you into the junior senator position. Now I’m going to have to send a man to do a man’s job. I’ll be running myself.”

I try not to laugh. He must be crazy. The media is going to love this.

“Is that why the marriage? Make you look like a family man? I don’t think it’s going to fly, Dad. The fourth Ex-Mrs. Marshall isn’t going to make you look any more stable.”

He scowls. “I told you to watch yourself.”

“Yeah, you did.”

“Here’s the bottom line. I’m going to open up a position for you at the company early. In fact, you’re going to take over Jessica’s old job.”

“What, secretary?”

“Vice president of acquisitions. Don’t worry, you won’t have to do more than pretend to work at first, I don’t want you f*cking everything up. Your underlings will take care of things for you until you can ease yourself into the work.”

“They must be used to it. I can’t imagine that your f*ck toy was—”

This time I flinch, because I think he’s actually going to hit me.

“You arrogant little shit. Still think you know everything. Jessica is an invaluable member of the team. She still will be, after we return from our honeymoon.”

“Right, whatever.”

His glare intensifies. “I’m going to make you a success whether you want it or not, because family f*cking means something to me.”

I want to laugh. If it meant that much to him, he wouldn’t have started f*cking a cleaning lady while he was still married to my mom. Don’t even get me started on what he did to my first stepmother.

He has an agenda for me, that’s for sure. The rest is lies.

“There’s one simple rule and you’re not going to break it. Stay away from Elaine. Not that it should be much of a problem. She hates you.”

My blood f*cking boils. I can feel it trying to bubble out from the top of my skull. How dare he. How dare he. After what he did to rip her away from me, he says that to my face.

“Find someone else. Young man like you has plenty of options. You can even go for pros if all you want is a quick lay, just keep it quiet and get some top-shelf *, no curb crawlers. Nothing that will show up when the press starts tearing into your past when you start campaigning for office. I think we are going to go for a congressional seat.”

I stay silent, weighing my options.

It’s work. This man is responsible for everything. For me, for Ellie, for what our life could have been and became instead.

When it hits me I almost want to laugh. He thinks he’s persuading me. He thinks he’s offering me a cushy deal. He thinks I’m like him.

I’m nothing like him.

“You start Monday. I’ll put you up in one of my hotels. I want you where I can see you. Don’t argue, I’ve already had Frank send some guys to pick up your shit and move it to a better place. A Sheraton? Really?”

“I like the Sheraton.”

He glowers at me.

“You’re leaving the reception now. Frank will drive you. That stupid car is going up for sale, no idiotic hot rodding. Time to grow up, Jack. I’ll make you a man whether you want it or not.”

I nod gravely and turn to leave.

I’m going to destroy you utterly, you brutal old f*ck, and I’m going to get my girl back.





Ellie





The door closes and I am left alone on the terrace, staring out over the city. It’s full dark now and the world is alive with light. Headlamps flow through the streets like blood through arteries and distant windows glitter, like the stars from the black, empty sky came down to Earth to gather together and ease their loneliness.

The void calls to me. I lean over the railing and look down. It’s a thirty-story drop to the street below, where I can only see the light things cast, not the shape of cars and people walking except for a few long shadows thrown by the big lights over the garage entrance.

I lean on the railing and wonder how long it would take me to fall…

Then I snap back and take a deep breath. I close my eyes and force my breathing even, then lift my foot from the smashed bouquet. I wish I’d never laid eyes on it. I gather it up and throw it over the railing, watch it come apart in the air and float away.

I’m tired of this. I turn and head for the ballroom before I realize, if I do, I will be assaulted by people trying to talk to me. A dozen idiots have already tried to offer me congratulations, usually spoken to my feet because they can’t bear to lay eyes on my tortured face.

There’s a walkway down to the floor below. I take that, open the door, and head inside. I pass through the service area to the hallway and take the elevator down, wearily walk back to my room, and lock myself inside.

It takes work to get ahold of the thin string tied through my zipper tab, but I get my dress off, wriggle out of it, and leave it discarded on the floor in the sitting area by the door.