RAGE (The Rage Series Book 1) (11 page)

             
He was pouring Mathers money into her care—more money, indeed, than into anything else. They still had several outstanding debts that dated back to his father's time, and he hadn't even begun to think about moving into a new apartment. Neither he nor she had medical insurance, and while they waited for their application to go through, he had no choice but to pour hundreds of dollars into her treatment.

              What was she doing now?

              Was she at home, in bed, staring at the TV.

              Was she wandering somewhere, trapped in her own head, driven there by all she'd lost.

              Very suddenly, David was angry.

              Where had she been when he'd
needed
her? When Lester Marscomb had given up looking for work and taken to drink, where had she been? Begging the doctor for sleeping pills and barely rising to look after him when he could hardly do anything for himself. Where had she been when he'd found a dead body in the bathtub? Asleep. She had hardly risen when the police and the ambulances had arrived. Plus, when she'd discovered that her husband was dead, she had not comforted her son. She had only screamed hysterically, frightening him when they took her away to sedate her.

              His entire life he'd worked to support her, barely keeping them afloat and hoping one day she would come back to her senses, but she hadn't.

              He was still waiting.

              The grief clogged in his throat, choking him.

              When he arrived at the restaurant Charlotte had spoke of, he merely stood on the curb, staring at it. Could he go in? Could he watch her smile and laugh knowing that in his pocket he had everything he needed to turn her joy to ash in her mouth?

              He would have to.

              If she suspected or discovered what he planned, he would lose his chance forever.

              Taking a deep breath, he locked everything away deep within him. He arranged his expression into a semblance of carefree anticipation, and he entered the bistro.

              She was in a candlelit corner, waving at him.

              God, she was breathtaking. For once, she wasn't in one of her suits. Instead, she wore a lovely peach-colored sundress that showed off the dip of her cleavage and the strength of her sunned thighs. Her blonde curls were pulled back in a careless ponytail, and her blue eyes were bright. “You found it,” she said, her smile radiant.
              “I did.” His voice was surprisingly level when he spoke to her, and she arched a brow. “Hungry?”

              “Starved.”

              He would have to force the food down.

              “This place has amazing meatballs. Wait until you taste them.” She passed him a menu, but as he took a seat and attempted to read it, the words ran together.

              He was
angry
.

              He was angry, he was lost, and he was upset.

              And Charlotte...Charlotte was everything right with the world. She didn't deserve his lies or his tricks. “Hey.” He looked up to see her gazing across the table at him, her blue eyes concerned. “Are you alright?”

              “Fine.” His answer was curter than he'd intended, and at the hurt look on her face, his stomach clenched. Instead of apologizing, he merely looked back down at the menu.

              “You are
not
fine.” Her proclamation drew his gaze upward to her again, and this time, her expression was irate. “What's the problem?”

              “I'm just hungry,” he said, working his throat to keep emotion from coloring his words. “I need to eat, and I need to sleep.”

              “So...you don't want to come back to my place afterward?”

              He groaned inwardly as he was assaulted with images of her riding him, her head thrown back, and her lips parted in pleasure. “I'm not feeling well, Charlotte.” The words were emitted through gritted teeth. “I need to go home.”

              “Is it something I've done?” The sincerity in her tone startled him. It was the last thing he'd been expecting. He’d expected rage, a tantrum, or indifference but certainly not compassion.

              “Why would you think that?” he inquired, genuinely curious.

              “I don't know. It's just that I know the way that things happened after the ball was sudden, and company policy is against us doing what we're doing. It's a lot of pressure. Perhaps I haven't been taking it as seriously as I should have.”

              She was blaming herself?

              Raising fingers to his temple, David massaged the headache growing there. He searched for the right words to say, torn between wanting to push her away and wanting find safety and acceptance in her arms. “There are....things. Things about me that you don't know. They're not pretty and I don't want to hurt you.”

              It was true. He didn't want to; but, ultimately, he may not have a choice in the matter.

              To his surprise, his statement didn't deter her empathy. Reaching across the table, she took his hand in hers warmly, gazing up at him earnestly. “So, you have secrets. Who doesn't? I've done a few things that I regret...and I certainly can't help my family. No one's perfect. I'm not worried about it.”

              He only stared at her in disbelief.

              “Now...have dinner with me. And then we'll go to my place...and talk. Just talk.” Slowly, David nodded. He was no surer of things than he had been a minute ago, but somehow, her expression, her kindness, and her nearness soothed him.

              There was no rush.

              He could take his time.

              Everything would come to him in time.

              Lying in bed in the aftermath of their lovemaking, Charlotte stared at the ceiling. Despite the fact that she had sincerely hoped to talk with David after their meal, he'd merely torn at her like a man starved when they'd entered her house. Of course, she hadn't complained, and now, as she reclined next to him, her body sated, her thoughts turned pensive.

              How much did she really know about David? She knew that he'd graduated from MIT, that he'd worked a lot of white collar jobs, and that he was brilliant. She knew that he was kind, patient, and caring. She knew that he was a great lover and had a shrewd mind, and now she knew that he had his problems, as well.

              She wasn't too terribly interested in what the problems were exactly. All she knew was that he'd gazed at her in the restaurant like a man lost, and all she'd wanted to do was help him find his way. How on earth had she gone from promising herself that she wouldn't touch this man to falling in love with him? It almost like rolling down a hill. First, starting slow, and then gradually gain momentum, going faster and faster until there’s no way to know which way’s up and which way’s down.

              She had no idea how they were going to get around company policy. She supposed that if they could keep their hands to one another during office hours, they'd be alright; but, if Adeline ever caught wind of what was going on between them, she'd be furious. It wasn't as though her friend didn't want her to find love, she was just one of the strongest proponents for adhering to rules. Both she and Charlotte were leaders in the office, she had attested, and they had to lead by example.

              Yet, here she was.

              What, she wondered, could be so horrible about David that he thought it would hurt her to know it? There was no way he could be a rapist, a murderer, or something horrible like that. It wasn't in his nature. Certainly, he wasn't going to kidnap her and hold her for ransom. If he was going to do that, he'd have done it already. They'd certainly been alone enough. He couldn't be working for her father. In fact, the few times she'd mentioned the man to him, he'd seemed to react with extreme prejudice, making sure that he guarded his expression carefully. She knew that any man her father would have been foolish enough to hire would have gone about praising him like a loon and trying to win him to her side.

              David would never do any of those things.

              He might be troubled, but his heart was good.

              Charlotte always had pretty good instincts when it came to matters of the heart. She'd seen through Adeline's rough exterior, and that was no small task.

              “Tell me about Switzerland.” David's sudden request caught her off guard. Turning over, she leaned against his chest, looking down into his relaxed face. His eyes were closed, but he was visibly awake.

              “Switzerland? Well...” Rather than questioning him, she merely began her recount. She could sense that it was what he needed now. “It's super cold in the winter but amazing in the summer. My dad sent me there for boarding school when I was fifteen, and at first I was pissed as all hell. It seemed to me like he'd been trying to pawn me off on someone else for my entire life; but, after a few weeks there, I loved it. I made lots of friends and got into
lots
of trouble,” his lips curved slightly at the revelation, “but, most of all, I learned that not
all
wealthy people are stuck-up idiots.”

              David's gray eyes slid open as he looked up at her curiously. “What do you mean?”

              “I met my friend, Amina, there.” Charlotte smiled in remembrance and thought about how despite the ocean separating them, she was still close to the daughter of a prominent tribe in Nigeria.  “She's African. Every cent her father sent her to buy nice clothes or gelato she donated to the various groups that worked with the school. She went without her pâtés, petit fours, and teas to give back to those who were suffering from AIDS, yellow fever, and malaria in her country. She was utterly selfless, extremely opinionated, and I adored her. I still do.”

              “Is she the one who got you into charity work?” David asked.

              Charlotte nodded and said, “I never realized how good it would feel to help others. No Birkin bag, Louis Vuitton purse, or spa facial will ever compare.”

              “But you still like one every once in a while.” His smile was teasing, and she rolled her eyes, blowing a strand of hair from his face playfully.

              “Every once in a while.”

              At that moment, a low buzzing drew both of their attentions to her phone on the bedside table.

Scowling, the young woman reached over to retrieve it, groaning when she realized that it was her father calling.

              “I have to take this, I'm sorry.” She slid from bed, wrapping a sheet around her to cover her nakedness. Quietly, she left the room, closing the door behind her before she answered the phone. “Hello?”

              “I heard you left the charity ball early last week.”

              Pursing her lips, the young woman folded her free arm over her chest. “Hi to you, too.”

              “Who were you with?”

              God, he was insufferable. “Why does it matter?”

              “It matters when you're so goddamn careless about who you take into your fold. The man could be out you get you, Charlotte! He could want to blackmail me.”

              “Everything isn't always about you, Dad.” Charlotte actually took the phone from her ear to glare at it angrily. “I want you to take your surveillance off me, and I want you to do it now.”

              “I'll do no such thing until you're grown up enough to realize the danger you're putting yourself in.”

              “You don't even care about me!” She was practically shouting as she gave him her reply. “All you care about is your money and your precious company! I've done every goddamn thing you've ever asked of me, and I can't even get a 'Hello, Charlotte. How are you?' or a 'Did you have a nice day running the company I
shoved down your throat?'
”

              “You ungrateful little brat! The money from that company has given you everything you ever wanted!”

              “Except a father!” Her words rang through the empty rooms of the apartment— an apartment that was two stories and five thousand square feet of ostentatiousness gifted to her from a man she didn't even know. “All I ever really wanted was you.”

              For a moment, there was silence on the other line and, embarrassingly, Charlotte felt tears pricking her eyes.

              “Everything I have ever done I have done to protect you.” Her father's next words were low, firm, and steady. “Even if you don't realize it.”

              “Protect me from what?” she demanded, her voice trembling slightly. “You tell me that.”

              The phone clicked in her ear as the line went dead.

              For a moment, Charlotte stared at it in disbelief before she hurled it down the hall and listened to it come apart somewhere at the bottom of the staircase. At the din, the door at her back opened and David emerged, his expression grim. When Charlotte turned to face him, her eyes were red as she blinked back tears.