Wanting to smash the walkie-talkie into a thousand pieces, she simply nodded and ran the tip of her tongue over her still-tingling lips. Moving off him, she stood, trying to get herself back under control.
Snatching it up, he never took his hungry eyes off the woman who had just dismounted him. “This is Raidon, what the hell is it?” he snapped, sounding unprofessional for the first time in his career, but not caring.
“We need you down on the front lawn. We caught some worm from TalkMag slipping out a side entrance of the mansion. How he got past us, I don't know.” From the sound of the man's voice, it was clear he was pissed, and no doubt had roughed the photographer/reporter up.
“Well, I guess duty calls, see you in the morning.” Cynne' said in a cool voice, then all but ran from the room.
“What lousy timing, SHIT!” he cursed under his breath as he watched her leave. Horny, frustrated, and fearing that she would never allow him so close again, he stood and tried to adjust his raging, angry, dejected member. Shaking his leg and hoping his hard-on would fall into a comfortable position, he gave his member a gentle pat, trying to appease its need to release. “Don't worry Mr. Crowd Pleaser, when we get to that photographer, we'll make him pay for interfering with our time with our Cynne'.” Clicking the speak button on the walkie-talkie, he said, “I'm on my way, call the police and, uhhhh.... take our friend to the guard shack where we can question him without anyone seeing.”
Chapter 46
Granger slipped the black Versace suit jacket on, then placed his broken arm in the sling carefully. Fussing with it a bit to make sure it was properly adjusted, he then smoothed the jacket and glanced in the full-length mirror. With a look of despair, he muttered, “Well, here I am, the put-together, sharp, cold hearted businessman the world knows I am. The old Granger Mortensen, not the man that was crying like a baby a few hours ago. I can't fool myself, or anyone else, much longer, I'm nothing but a waste. A harbinger of chaos for everyone I care about.” Adjusting his red silk tie, he steeled himself for what had to be done, as a sharp stab of guilt pierced his heart.
Unable to stand the sight of himself any longer, he turned from the mirror and grabbed the bag that was at his feet. Walking out of the changing room, he clicked the light off. Quietly, he crept into the bedroom he shared with Cassandra, and slowly looked around. His gaze lingering on the woman he adored, he felt bereft and desolate at the sight of her sleeping soundly, curled up, a look of contentment on her face. But in his heart he knew she was simply worn out, emotionally and physically, from all that had happened in recent weeks. On top of all that, she had been taking care of both him and Regan, and helping arrange his mother's memorial service, which was being delayed because her body had yet to be released due to a back-up at the Medical Examiner’s Office. A recent coal mine cave in that had killed nearly a hundred workers had the medical examiner and his one assistant busy around the clock, with little rest, and surprisingly little help on the way. True to form, Cassandra had donated money to the miner's families in Grace's name, a gesture he was certain his mother would never have made in Cassandra's name.
Walking over to the bed, he reached out and touched her face. To him it seemed each time he looked at her she became more and more lovely, like an Angel sent to earth. In the last few days and hours he had found a small measure of peace and comfort in her arms, but now he had to let that go, he felt it was best for her and his son. Sitting on the edge of the bed carefully, so as to not wake her, he gazed down at her, memorizing every feature, and determined to remember every little thing that made her so special. There were many things, but he knew what set her above most everyone was her heart, and how she gave so freely of herself. He would never need any picture to remember that.
Blinking back tears, he reflected on their marriage. Despite the fact they had had far more downs than ups, she was the only woman who had ever given him true joy. She had looked deep inside him and had always tried to see the good in him that others wouldn't or couldn't. Reaching out slowly, he caressed her face. She sighed contentedly, then mumbled something unintelligible and fell back into a deep sleep. I don't think I could ever love anyone the way I love you, but since the first day I came into your life, you have suffered, all because you love me. You have suffered so much, and you don't deserve that. I love you too much to let it go on any longer. Martina wins. Maybe she'll leave you alone after she finds out I've left.....he thought as pain and guilt lanced his heart yet again.
Composing himself, he pulled his hand away from her face. Standing and taking a deep breath, he looked at her one last time. Pulling the strap of his bag over his good shoulder, he left the room quietly.
Making his way down the hall, he stopped in front of the room Regan was sleeping in, and opened the door as quietly as he could. As his eyes adjusted to the dim light inside, he looked around and saw Edoardo in a large, overstuffed chair, holding Regan in his arms. They were both sleeping peacefully. Seeing his son's face snuggled in the safety of his Great-Grandfather's chest brought back many memories with crystal clarity. There had been many times his Grandfather had held him, to keep his fear of his father at bay. At the moment, he could almost smell the scent of Old Spice he had smelled when he himself had been held in a loving embrace by the older man.
At that moment, any anger he had ever felt for towards his Grandparents left. I know they'll look out for Regan and Cassandra the same way they did me....he thought with a sad smile on his face.
Closing the door quietly, he made his way to the study, where he knew Satin and Malcolm were waiting for him.
*************************
Satin was dead on her feet. She had spent the entire day giving statements to the press, and talking to people who wanted their condolences passed on to the family. Slumping back in the overstuffed couch, she blinked drowsily, then shook her head, doing her best to stay awake. She found herself wondering for the hundredth time in ten minutes what it was that Granger wanted to talk about this early in the morning. As promised, she had stayed on at the estate ever since the tragedy, and had offered aid in any way she could to the family. Now here she sat, at four in the morning, wondering what it was Granger needed so badly that it couldn't wait until a decent hour. Letting out a big yawn, she wondered if it had something to do with the fact Grace's body had yet to be released to the family. Maybe he wanted to see if she could speed up the process at the Medical Examiner’s Office, and give a statement to the press about the services.
Pacing an almost noticeable path in the plush carpet, Malcolm was worried. Especially since Granger had had one of the staff members wake him two hours ago, saying he needed his private plane ready, but refusing to tell him the destination, or how long he would be gone. The last thing he needs is to be alone somewhere.....he thought.
“I'm sorry I had to get you both up this early, but you'll understand why, in just a moment.” Granger said as he stepped inside the study and closed the door behind him.
Seeing how he was dressed, Satin and Malcolm glanced nervously at one another, both sensing immediately that something was way off kilter.
Putting his bag down on the floor, Granger walked to the bar on the far side of the room, and opened the briefcase that was sitting on top of the counter, a briefcase he had asked Gianne to bring up earlier. Without ceremony, he looked at the two of them and announced, “I'm leaving. For good.”
Thunderstruck, Malcolm stared at him in silence for a moment. “What?” he finally managed to answer in a hoarse voice.
Suddenly wide awake, Satin bolted from her seat and started to speak, but Granger held up a hand to silence her. ”I don't have time for details. I've made up my mind, and the issue is not open for discussion.”
Satin bit her full lower lip, struggling to keep her opinion to herself. Looking at him, she did something she rarely did, and remained silent, allowing him to speak. But she still planned on having her say once he was finished. Crossing her arms under her breasts, she waited impatient
ly, mentally chomping-at-the-bit.
Granger was thankful she wasn't going to argue with him, as he had neither the time nor the energy to debate with the head-strong woman. Clearing his throat, he reached inside the briefcase, then stepped forward and handed each of them a thick folder. “Malcolm, I'm leaving you here to keep everything running smoothly for Cassandra and Regan. I also want you to keep Raidon on retainer, just to make sure Cassandra and Regan are safe. As long as you feel they need extra security, pay him to see to it.”
“Chief, please, hold on a min...” Malcolm replied, but was interrupted.
“I've tripled your salary, effective as of yesterday, and in that folder you'll find your new contract and benefits package.” Granger plowed on, now unable to look his old friend in the eye, but feeling the man's burning, intense gaze on him. Hearing the man's sudden intake of breath, he finally looked up at him. “Don't be so surprised, my friend. I can very well afford it, and you've always been my right hand. You're one of the few people I trust with my life, or my family's life. I want you to stay on board, therefore I want you to be happy. Happy employees stay on until they retire.”
Malcolm swallowed several times, not only shocked by the extremely generous pay raise, but touched by the man's words, and the faith the man had in him. “Thanks chief, that means a lot to me. And I don't mean just the money.” he replied in an emotional voice. Stepping towards him, he engulfed his long-time friend and employer in an emotional, brotherly bear hug.
Getting over his initial shock, Granger returned the hug and whispered, “I'm trusting you to watch over them, old friend. Promise me you'll do it, so I'll always know they're in good hands.”
A chill ran from the back of Malcolm's neck, right down to his heart, and an uncharacteristic shiver of panic passed through him as the words finally sank in. Stepping back, he grasped both of Granger's shoulders firmly, and looked into his eyes, hoping to find some answers, or perhaps detect any signs of extreme emotional distress. All of a sudden that was his worst fear, that maybe his actions were a subconscious cry for help, to keep him from doing what his mother had done. Shaking his head, he pleaded, “Granger, don‘t!” But the longer he looked at his friend and boss, the more he was convinced something bad was going to happen.
Sensing what he was thinking, Granger said, “It's not going to come to that, Malcolm, you have my word.” Averting his gaze, he then stepped back and gave him a brotherly pat on the back. “It would mean a lot to me if you help Cassandra with mother's burial, too. I'm sure she would rather be interred here, rather than in Italy. You know, because that louse who called himself her father is buried in Italy.”
Malcolm let out a deep sigh, frustrated, but knew it would be futile to argue any further. He recognized the look in the man's eyes, recognized the weary look of defeat and resignation. He had seen it many times in the service, and the condition his friend was suffering from was not unlike battle fatigue. After all, he had been through so much physical and emotional trauma, it was a miracle he was still in full possession of his faculties. Grace how could you do this? He wondered. “I'll take care of everything, Chief, you have my word.” he replied, choking back tears, and not caring if it looked unmanly.
With a nod of his head, Granger went back to the bar and closed the briefcase. Looking at Satin, he dreaded the words that would come next, words he knew would kill any spark of life that was still left in his soul. “Miss Johnson...Satin...in that folder you're holding are the legal documents for every holding that my family has. Stock certificates, bank accounts, land deeds, company deeds and licenses, automobile titles, everything from A-to-Z, right down to the last paper clip. The family accountant just did a routine audit for me last week, so everything is up-to-date. You'll find also a large check for you, as a retainer for pending services.”
“Ok, but what about...”
“Please..” he interrupted, wanting to get the next words out of the way, before he lost his resolve. “I also want you to file for a divorce for me. I don't care what grounds you choose, but make it clear my wife isn't to blame for any of this. Give Cassandra whatever she wants. I want her to never have to worry about her or Regan's comfort, ever. Sit down with her attorney and work it out, Satin. No fighting, what she wants, she gets, PERIOD. The only two things I want to keep in my possession are this estate, and the vineyard. The rest I don't care about. I'll be in contact, after I've settled into my new home, wherever that may be. You can forward all the papers for me to sign, then.” That said, he nodded at both of them, then picked up the briefcase and headed toward his overnight bag, which was still sitting by the door.
Even more thunderstruck than they had been earlier, both Malcolm and Satin snapped out of their daze, and both rushed to the door, blocking his way.
“WAIT, Granger, leaving is one thing, but isn't this a little...extreme?” Malcolm pleaded. “You don't want to do this, man! Come on, please, think about it.”
“He's right.” Satin chimed in. “If you want to get away for a while to clear your head, then go. But I feel it would be ethically wrong for me to file for a divorce this soon after the mental blows you've suffered from in the past several weeks.” In an uncharacteristic show of emotion, she stepped towards him and touched his arm warmly. “Just give it thirty days, and if you still want a divorce, I'll personally negotiate a fair divorce settlement for both of you.”
Touching her hand, it amazed him how sensitive the little firecracker had been in recent days, nothing but kind and supportive to him and his family. This was the same woman who the police considered the miscreant of the legal system. He knew that the police and other public officials would be shocked and amazed to see how caring Satin Johnson could be. “No, either you do it, or I'll get someone else who will be more than happy to take that big retainer I'm offering you.” he replied in a firm, yet gentle voice.
Biting her lip with indecision, Satin knew there would be a taker for his offer, and most lawyers would try to get even more money for settling the divorce quietly. But she had to know why. In the time she had been at the estate, she had seen Cassandra and Granger together, the way they looked at one another, the way touched or kissed when they thought no one was looking. She knew they shared a genuine love and warmth for each other, and that was such a rare thing these days. So why would he throw it all away, at the lowest point in his life? “I'll do it if you tell me why, Granger. Why? You just found the love of your life after three years of being apart. Hell, you two fought a madman together, a psychotic killer, and lived to tell about it. You refused to allow him to keep you apart. Damn it, man, don't run away! She can help you, and heal your pain, if you'll just give it time. Let your head clear....you're not thinking coherently.” she replied in the most reasonable voice she could muster.
Taking a few steps from them to get some personal space, Granger looked from Satin, then to Malcolm, regarding them with a degree of respect he gave very few people. It made him feel good that they cared, but they had to understand what he really was, what his family was. “Do you know how the Mortensen's first gained their vast fortune?” he finally asked.
Neither of them answered, they just stood there waiting to hear some plausible reason to why he was leaving.
For the first time in a while, Granger gave them a thin-lipped, humorless, empty smile, “Whorehouses and ran-down tenements, charging poor people three times what the shacks were worth. Of course the great Mortensen's did eventually move up to coal mines, refineries, and vineyards later. However, my.....predecessors, meaning ancestors, of course, hired poor immigrants and minorities to do all the dirty, back-breaking work, for slave wages. What little money they made was owed to our company stores, and a man could never break even.” Knowing his mother would turn over in her grave (as it were) at the admission of such a shameful family 'secret', he chuckled mirthlessly. “Mortensons have fed off good, honest folks, most of our lives. I've did my best to change that with my own employees, but you, Malcolm, of all people, know
how ruthless I've always been in my dealings with competition. Am I any better than the ones before me? I don't think so. I never gave a second thought to how many people have lost their jobs because I bought out a rival company. You don't know how many times my mother told me it was my birthright to have good people working like dogs for me, like they were nothing but a means for me to gain more wealth. This is what Cassandra married into, and she deserves better. As much as I'm loathe to admit it, mother was right, I'll always have Mortensen blood in my veins. Even though I'm not a real one, I learned their ways well.”
“Granger, you can't change what other people did in the past, but you can change the future. Just...” Satin said, but was cut off yet again.
Closing his eyes, Granger continued. “I won't do what my father and mother did to me, I won't use people. I refuse to use Cassandra or Regan any longer, just for the sake of my happiness. I finally see how selfish that is. I would rather be alone than to see them suffer any more, or risk jading them both for life. Sometimes, to truly love, you have to be willing to let go and allow the person to be happy. I know you may not believe it, but I love her and my son with every fiber of my being, and I don't want to destroy them. That's why I have to leave them, so they can be happy. And there's also the matter of one more lunatic who's still at large. If I'm gone, maybe she'll give up.”
Remember Me Page 58