by Lorenz Font
Following the week after her homecoming, Sarah felt much better and almost back to her old self. Aside from the occasional back pain and numbness in her legs and feet, her healing came along just as Dr. Darnell had predicted it would. Matilda fussed over her like a mother hen, refusing to let her even lift a finger and feeding her home-cooked meals to “fatten her up.”
“You’re too thin. You’ve lost a lot of weight. High winds will blow you away if you don’t listen to me,” Matilda uttered over and over while she pushed food into Sarah’s mouth as if she were a child.
Walking to the bathroom had even become a big production. Even without Matilda hovering around her like a hawk, the few instances Sarah had attempted to get up on her own had been thwarted by Greg’s inevitable presence. His legs had gotten stronger, allowing him to pick her up and take her to the bathroom before she even had time to protest. This treatment went on until she was about to scream.
When Sarah expressed her frustration, Greg just held her gaze and reminded her that he wouldn’t allow anything to happen to her, in particular while she was living in his house. So for the next two weeks, she was held hostage by two impossible, overzealous, caring individuals. They regarded her like delicate china, which made the slightest flinch from pain an unbearable embarrassment.
The days fell into a regular pattern. Greg carried Sarah to his study, and they would spend the day together. He attended office meetings via satellite, answered important forwarded calls, and ran the business from his home office, while she poured over the materials Barry had arranged for the school to send. This routine started after breakfast and was followed by an hour of lunch. Then they went back for another two to three hours of quiet work before they quit for the day.
Although their time together had been spent doing their respective work, it had also given Sarah plenty of opportunity to observe Greg. She learned a lot of things about him in the process, but it was his compassion for others that touched her the most. While she worked nearby, she overheard him order flowers for an employee who had a baby and listened to him scold another to take a break.
Most interesting were Greg’s facial expressions—the way he furrowed his eyebrows before making a big business decision, smiled with contentment after sealing a business deal, and pretended to read when she caught him staring at her. Those were times when confusion muddled her mind. Everything reminded Sarah of the strange, unspoken emotions that had arisen between them, growing as each day passed, implicit and larger than life.
Greg was reluctant to leave her side and almost never left the house. As much as Sarah had grown to love his company, she would have appreciated a respite from the nagging issues that surrounded them. It was just a matter of time before those matters demanded her attention. She often wondered what was going on with his wife and what that condescending woman would think if she found out about their living arrangement. He never once mentioned his parents or the shooting. Sarah sensed that these things weighed on him, but he clammed up whenever she brought up either subject.
There were instances when he took phone calls in the privacy of his bedroom, but not before she’d overheard him mention lawsuits, lawyers, and other things she knew nothing about. Sarah saw worry shoot across his face several times, but he always dismissed her inquiries. She surmised there was a group of related problems that he refused to talk about, but she respected his need for space, just as he did with her issues with her father.
Greg never brought up the phone conversation she’d had with her father in the hospital. For that, she was grateful. Despite her curiosity about Greg’s life, she was content to live on the sideline and learn from the man who had given her so much.
One afternoon after an unscheduled nap, she found a note on her dresser from him. She hurried to open it, her heart beating hard against her chest.
I’m going to meet a colleague for a couple of hours. I hope you enjoyed your nap. Greg.
Sarah wound up deciding to take the rest of the afternoon off, dozing on and off for the next hour. Afterward, she wandered to the kitchen where Matilda was humming a tune and covering a casserole with aluminum foil. Sarah climbed on the barstool and grabbed the television remote.
“Good evening, sweet pea. How was your nap?” Matilda looked over her shoulder and smiled. The term of endearment had spawned from Sarah’s dislike of peas, which the older lady persisted in feeding her despite her objections.
She teased back, “Hello, Nanny. It was great.” Sarah flicked on the remote control and started channel surfing. Most of the basic channels were transmitting the evening news, so she kept flipping, but Sarah switched back when she heard one newscaster mention Greg’s name. Matilda’s mouth gaped open while they watched and listened in horror.
“Gregory Andrews III, with his lawyer, appeared before a judge today on assault charges filed by George Rickard.” A segment of Greg and the lawyer flashed on the screen, and the newscaster continued. “The incident happened following an accident on Sixty-Ninth Street, in which Mr. Rickard’s cab hit pedestrian Sarah Jones. According to several eyewitnesses, Mr. Andrews attacked Mr. Rickard, resulting in a broken nose and fractured jaw.
“According to our sources, Mr. Andrews appeared grief-stricken following the accident. We have no details regarding his relationship to the accident victim at this time. Mr. Andrews was named one of New York City’s top twenty businessmen of 2011 and has been going through a long and messy divorce from estranged wife Cassandra Denver-Andrews.” A picture of Greg and Cassandra during happier times was then plastered on the screen.
Matilda started sobbing. “Turn it off, turn it off!” she screeched. Her eyes filled with tears, and she grabbed the remote control from Sarah. “I don’t want to hear it. They tell lies!”
“Is it true?” Sarah’s heart pounded in deep, painful thuds. “Did Greg attack that man?”
“Yes … he thought the man killed you. He hit you, Sarah. Greg will fight this. He has the best lawyer in town.” Matilda sniffled while she wiped the tears from her eyes.
Sarah’s heart sank further. “I’m sure he’ll be all right,” she reassured the housekeeper and hoped to God it was true.
Matilda nodded and went back to her chores, leaving Sarah to dwell on the gravity of Greg’s situation.
Sarah waited in the living room for Greg to return. It was past seven when the front door opened and closed. One set of footsteps proceeded to the kitchen, while the other continued in the direction of the bedrooms.
Sarah had left the lights off on purpose to give her the chance to watch Greg first without him knowing. Even in the darkness, his demanding presence was hard to miss. She recognized exhaustion in the heaviness of his footfalls. His powerful shoulders slumped, and the hard plane of his jaw was tight. Greg was an image of a man who carried a burden, alone and isolated. It was a pity that she couldn’t ease his pain.
She listened to his dragging feet while he crossed the hallway to his bedroom. Hugging her knees to her chest, she waited, knowing what would happen next. Just as she’d predicted, Greg came gunning down the hallway.
“Sarah!”
“I’m here, Greg,” she called out.
When he turned the lights on, she had to squint her eyes to see him. Traces of worry were evident in his weary expression, but he hid them as soon as their eyes connected. If there was one thing Sarah knew about Greg, it was this—he always tried to hide his feelings as much as possible. The times he faltered were rare, but they were enough to reveal his vulnerable side.
“You almost gave me a heart attack.” He flopped on the sofa next to her.
“I was waiting for you.” Sarah scooted closer, and she felt him tense.
He raked his fingers through his hair and then tugged his tie loose. “Why? Have you eaten dinner?”
“Yes. Have you? I can reheat the casserole.” She shifted to get to her feet, but Greg’s warm hand clamped on her arm and stopped her.
“I’m not hungry. Just sit here with me.”
There was unmistakable weariness in his voice, as well as the eyes that regarded her now.
“Sure …”
Satisfied with her answer, Greg leaned back on the leather sofa and closed his eyes.
After she’d settled back down in her seat, Sarah decided to come right out and say her piece. “Greg, I want you to tell me the truth, and please don’t shut me out,” she started, her voice quavering a bit.
Greg’s eyes opened, and he turned his head in her direction. “What do you want to know?” he asked with a frown.
“Why did you attack Mr. Rickard?”
He flinched. “Because I thought the bastard had killed you.”
“You overreacted, in other words.”
“I may have, but I’m not sorry for doing what I did. He ran the red light and hit you. A broken nose and a fractured jaw weren’t close to enough payback for what he did to you.” There was no remorse in Greg’s voice.
“But I’m okay. You, on the other hand, won’t get off so easy. You’re all over the news. People took pictures, and the media is having a field day. I’m just worried about you, Greg.” Sarah slumped against the cushion.
He scooted closer and picked up her hand. “I want to apologize for dragging you into this mess. I realize that people will start asking about you.”
“I don’t care about that at all.” She tightened her fingers on his hand. “What I want is for you to be happy. You seem to have so much on your mind. I could help if you would just trust me.”
“My one regret about hitting that bastard was that by doing so I dragged your name under this goddamn microscope of a life I’m living. But I’m rectifying matters. I met with my lawyers today, and we’re going to do some damage control.”
“Just how much trouble are you in?” Greg, in Sarah’s opinion, was making strides. This was the most information he’d ever offered her. Still, she cast him a worried glance.
“I’ll be fine. I have a criminal lawyer, just in case that bastard wants to play hardball. I’ll going to slap him with a vehicular assault lawsuit, and he won’t have an easy time trying to get money out of me. I’ve also retained a divorce lawyer. I figured I’d better get my divorce from Cassandra finalized. I don’t want anyone putting your name in a bad light.” Agitation marred his handsome face.
Sarah suppressed a sigh. “I don’t want you to concede to your wife’s demands for my sake. If you believe you should fight her for everything, you have to do it.”
Intent blue eyes regarded her with speculation. “It could get ugly. They might start digging up stuff about you that you’re not ready to deal with.”
“I don’t think we have anything to hide. They can talk all they want, and we can tell them to do their worst. But don’t settle on my account. You’ve done too much for me as it is.” Sarah hoped her tone sounded as unconcerned as she’d intended. It didn’t matter if her heart was hammering against her ribcage at the lie. How bad could it get, anyway?
“Are you sure about this?” Greg eyed her, his expression wary.
“Yes,” she replied, trying to sound convincing.
Greg scooted much closer to her, tightening his grasp on her hand before kissing her palm. Sarah closed her eyes when his soft lips grazed her skin. Then he whispered into her ear, his breath a featherlight caress that sent shudders down to her toes.
“You’re such a beautiful and brave woman, Sarah Jones.”
Chapter 15
Greg replaced the phone back in its cradle. He’d been having an interesting conversation with his divorce lawyer when he’d been distracted by raised voices. He rose to his feet and hurried out of his study. Sarah bolted out of her bedroom door as well, wearing a robe over her pajamas. She halted her steps when they almost bumped into each other.
“Stay here.” Greg placed one hand on her shoulder when he passed her.
He recognized his father’s voice even before he reached the front door. Greg wondered what the old man wanted from him. There could be but one reason for showing up on his doorstep at this hour—money. That had been his father’s main concern of late.
“I don’t care what time it is. I want to talk to my son.” Greg Jr.’s voice echoed through the entire house and spilled into the hallway outside, despite Matilda’s pleas that he keep his voice down. He shoved past Matilda as soon as he spotted Greg. “There you are. I’ve been leaving you messages, but you haven’t even had the decency to return my phone calls.”
“I sent you the report for the last quarter. What more do you want from me?” Greg bit out, unable to control his increasing annoyance.
With his usual arrogance, Greg Jr. strode into the living room, and Greg followed him. He wasn’t sure he appreciated this unannounced visit. There was too much animosity between them, and he had no idea how to act around his father anymore.
Greg Jr. stopped mid-stride when he caught sight of Sarah standing in the hallway. “Well … who do we have here?”
He eyed Sarah from head to toe with obvious interest akin to that of a spectator at a freak show. Greg gritted his teeth and clenched his fists.
“Sarah, this is my father, the great Gregory Andrews Jr.,” he offered by way of introduction. Any astute bystander could have heard the underlying tension and sarcasm in his voice.
Sarah smiled and extended her hand in a polite greeting. “Hello, Mr. Andrews.”
“Ah, so this is the woman.” His father looked at him, and then back to Sarah. “I know who you are,” he sneered without acknowledging Sarah’s outstretched hand and turned to Greg. “I didn’t know you were into ethnic beauties. This squaw is rather appealing, considering her red skin. I knew the rumors had some truth to them.”
Sarah gasped at the derogatory implications and left the room at once. Greg felt a wave of anger engulf him, so thick that he started shaking. He’d always known his father considered himself better than most people, but his treatment of Sarah and his racist outburst were inexcusable. With a few quick strides, he went face-to-face with the older man.
“Get out of my house!” Greg shouted.
“Don’t you dare talk to me in that manner. You’re who you are because of me, remember that,” Greg Jr. spat out. “I can’t believe you’d sacrifice your reputation for someone like her. Don’t you get it, Greg? The media is feasting on this little romp of yours. You’re acting the part of a rebellious son, just as you’ve always done.”
“What do you mean by ‘someone like her’?” Greg’s temper flared to dangerous levels.
“What do you see in that gold–digging Indian girl?”
“I see a woman who risked her future to save my life. But of course, you wouldn’t understand that. You’ve never cared that much for anyone but yourself.” Greg’s lips turned into a grim line.
“You seem to have the idea that we don’t care about you. Don’t you think that sentiment goes both ways? But if you’re trying to catch our attention by parading around with that … that … woman, then you’d better realize you’re not hurting anyone but yourself. Can’t you see? She’s not like us!”
Greg moved closer. “Don’t make me kick you out, Father,” he answered, grinding out the last word.
“You wouldn’t dare, young man. If you think you’ve got it made, you’re mistaken. I can take all of this away with just a snap of my finger,” his father challenged, meeting Greg’s steady gaze with equal defiance.
“You can take your threats with you when you go.” Greg placed a hand on his father’s collar, pivoted him around, and started pushing him toward the door. “Instead of sticking your nose in my business, why don’t you pay attention to your wife? Find out what she’s doing while you’re too busy counting your wealth. That should wipe that smirk off your face.”
It did.
Without letting go of his father, Greg turned the knob, swung open the door, and pushed him out. “Stay out of my life. You’ll get your money on time, so just leave me the hell alone!” Greg shouted before slamming the door.
Greg Jr
. banged on the unforgiving surface for several minutes, cursing at the top of his lungs. At last, his footsteps faded away.
Greg walked straight to the wet bar. He needed a drink to calm his anger with his father. The older man’s blatant display of arrogance had gone beyond rude. He’d attacked Sarah’s integrity and insulted her. Picking the first bottle he could lay his hands on, Greg poured himself a glass of whiskey.
Downing the contents in one pull, he banged the glass on the counter. “Who does he think he is?” he muttered to himself.
God, he hoped Sarah hadn’t heard everything his father had said. Greg poured another drink and slid open the glass door to the patio. He needed to calm down and think. Although he wanted to check on Sarah, he suspected it would be best to leave her alone tonight.
Greg shoved a hand through his hair and sat down on a patio chair. Still fuming, he glanced around him and muttered a curse. How in the hell could he fix this one? He prided himself on nailing together the toughest deals, but tackling this one wouldn’t be easy. Not after the offensive things his father had said about Sarah.
All he’d ever wanted was to make her life better in general. Then this happened. Is there anyone out there who isn’t out to get me?
Footsteps sounded, and Greg turned to see Simon watching him with concern. “I heard everything. I knew you could handle him, so I stayed out of sight.”
“If you’re planning on playing Dr. Phil with me, get a glass for yourself and grab the bottle on the counter.” Greg sank back in his chair.
“Sure, might as well join you, my friend.” Simon returned with the bottle and settled on the other patio chair next to him. “I’m sure you’re aware I treat you like the son I never had. So I’m going to tell it like I see it.”