Eight Ways to Ecstasy

by Jeanette Grey

  A lost life.

  And Rylan had thrown his own away so casually.

  Finally, they were directed to an empty table in a windowless room. Rylan took his chair with numbness spreading through his limbs. He’d expected Dane to wait in the car with the driver, but he’d followed them without a word, only shaking his head when Rylan had opened his mouth to offer him an out. Between them, Lexie sat up primly, hands folded in her lap, a blank expression on her face. Because of course. Of course this wasn’t her first time visiting.

  Deep inside his chest, Rylan’s heart panged. All the shit their father had put her through. Denying her the life she wanted every chance he got, refusing to support her at each turn, letting the company she’d sacrificed so much for go to vultures rather than giving her a shot at the reins. And yet she’d done right by him. She hadn’t abandoned him.

  And it was strange. Rylan’s father had always been this looming presence hanging over him, dictating his actions and stealing his choices from him. He’d been larger than life—even at the trial, even in handcuffs, he’d taken up all the space in the room.

  So Rylan had never, ever seen him look so small.

  His father’s height hadn’t changed, of course. But something in his posture had. There was a stoop to his shoulders that hadn’t been there before. Wide swaths of gray in his dark hair and a weariness behind his eyes. A khaki shirt and khaki pants made him look paler, and he’d lost weight—not enough to be worrying, but enough that his cheekbones stood out a little more starkly.

  Rylan’s throat went tight, a dizzy vertigo making the world around him lurch.

  This was the man he’d been so intimidated by. The one he’d allowed to set the terms for his entire life, and why? Memories of yelling and disappointment crowded into his mind, a deafening hum of static that surged and then all at once went to nothing.

  He was just a man. Not a lion or a god. But a mortal, normal, human man.

  And then his father looked up.

  The transformation had Rylan sitting up straight in his chair, his breath quickening and his muscles going tense. Gone were the bowed shoulders and the dead eyes. His father’s gaze connected with his, and his jaw went hard.

  There was the tyrant Rylan had come here expecting. There was the part of himself that wanted to curl up and be small.

  He buried the instinct. He had enough training to manage that much, at least.

  Never let them see how you’re afraid.

  Rylan kept his composure as his father was led across the room. His father’s hands were released, and he gave a nod to the guard before slipping into his place across from them. For a long moment, silence held.

  His father leaned back in his chair. “So. You finally decided to grace me with your presence.”

  It was an opening salvo, blame and greeting all rolled into one, and Rylan ignored them both. “You’re looking well.”

  “Please. I taught you to lie better than that.”

  Yes. He had.

  Leaning forward, Lexie cleared her throat. “I told you Teddy was taking care of some things in Europe, Daddy.”

  “Taking care of his own selfish ego, maybe.”

  He wasn’t even wrong. Rylan’s jaw clicked as he gritted his teeth. “I should’ve come earlier.”

  “Damn right you should’ve.” For the first time, he flitted his gaze to Lexie. “Did you at least bring—”

  “Of course.” She pushed a brown paper sack across the table.

  Rylan’s brow furrowed. The guards had taken a long time to clear Lexie, but he hadn’t realized it was because she came bearing gifts. Their father reached into the bag and hauled out a sweater, along with a handful of paperback books and snacks. Once he’d finished his inspection, he turned back to Rylan.

  And that was what pulled him out of himself. Fuck, but it was their childhood all over again. Diligent, persistent Lexie going the extra mile and receiving nothing in return while Rylan got all the focus. He glanced over at her to find her face flushing, her arms crossed over her chest as if that could shield her from the never-ending parade of bullshit.

  He curled his hand into a fist beneath the table and glared. “You could thank her.”

  “Do you want me to thank you, too? For showing up?”

  “I want you to show your daughter a little gratitude.”

  Lexie shook her head. “Rylan, it’s fine.”

  “Cut to the chase,” Rylan’s father said. “This clearly isn’t a social call.” He darted his gaze to the side, acknowledging Dane for the first time. “You brought, what, a lawyer? An attack dog? Haven’t I given you enough?”

  “Sir,” Dane said, “I’m—”

  Lexie cut him off. “Don’t worry about him.”

  Their father scoffed. “Fine, I’ll just ignore—”

  And Rylan’s patience was done. His temples throbbed, a dull ache building behind his eyes.

  The words exploded out. “Why did you do it?”

  Everything went very quiet. His father recoiled, a brief instant of unguarded surprise overtaking his features as he whipped around to stare at Rylan.

  “Now? You want to ask me that now?”

  There were so many reasons it was now. Kate’s accusations and McConnell’s machinations and all this pressure Lexie kept putting on him.

  But in the end, it was Rylan. Rylan needed to know.

  He needed to know they weren’t the same.

  “Better late than never,” he gritted out.

  For a long moment, his father regarded him in silence, and Rylan was this close to flinching. To wavering and taking the question back, or just getting up. Storming out, leaving without getting the answers he’d come here for, washing his hands of that smug expression the way he had once before. When the sentence had come down and the world he’d known, with his father at the helm, had crashed, thundering, to the ground.

  But he’d said he was done running. He had a life to live, with Kate or without her, as the head of this family or in another lost, self-imposed exile. He only had to figure out how.

  The silence faded and cracked as his father tilted his head back. The whole room erupted with the force of his father’s laugh, and something in Rylan’s chest went cold.

  “For you, you ungrateful bastard. I did it for all of you.” He waved his hands expansively, as if to encompass Rylan and Lexie, and who knew, maybe even Dane. Maybe even Evan and their mother, on the other side of the country or the world. “And this is the thanks I get, fifteen years in a fucking cell without a visit, without a letter.”

  Rylan dug his nails into his palm until it threatened to bleed. “We never asked you to—”

  “You don’t wait for the people who depend on you to ask.” His father’s nose wrinkled with distaste and scorn. “None of you know what’s good for you.”

  “And what would’ve been good for us was more money?” The one thing they’d always had. Not affection or approval, God no.

  “Enough money.” As Rylan and Lexie exchanged glances, their father shook his head at them. “The place was going up in flames. We never should’ve gone public. The board is full of idiots.”

  “So you stole from it.”

  “It was mine in the first place!” His nostrils flared, his whole face going dangerously red. “I built it. I made it from nothing and then they try to act like I’m the one committing a crime.”

  “Because you did.” Rylan’s throat was raw. What the hell was this? This indignation, this self-righteousness.

  Rylan’s father straightened his back, managing to loom even sitting down. Even sitting at that damn table and being on the wrong side of it. “I made a decision on how to use my company’s resources. And it was to reallocate them so you—so we could start over. That place was going up in flames, and we were going to come out of it standing strong. We’d rebuild.”

  All the breath punched out of Rylan’s chest.

  That’s what he’d meant by enough money. Enough to take it all and let the
ashes burn.

  Rylan’s whole life, his father had been grooming him to take his place at the helm of Bellamy International. He’d picked his prep school and his college and his major, and when that had all been done, he’d trained him in the rest of the business himself. Rylan had been made to know that company inside and out; he’d given up all his choices, all his time, for it. He’d done what had been asked of him for that company.

  It was worse than he had imagined.

  Because all the while, his father hadn’t just been sabotaging it from the inside. He’d been plotting how to do it again.

  His father scoffed. “Don’t look so damn surprised. Why do you think I did it?”

  He’d never known. Never really asked, and maybe he should have.

  His field of vision narrowed, everything going fuzzy around the edges.

  Oh, hell.

  Rylan had been so intent on not becoming his father. But was he any different at all?

  Not communicating. Not telling anyone what he was up to, and seeing a problem—seeing something not going his way, and forget fixing it, for fuck’s sake.

  Abandoning it.

  Like his father had abandoned his children. Had driven his wife away with his faithlessness and his work, laughing as he set everything he’d ever worked for alight and watched it burn.

  Rylan knocked his chair over in his haste to throw himself out of it.

  He’d let Kate walk away from him. He’d been ready to watch the company that bore his name slip through his hands.

  There was no way his father could know what was happening in his head, but the man laughed at him all the same. “Don’t be so horrified. I did it for you, and I’ve made my peace with the fact that it was all a damn waste. I sink all those years into you, and you want nothing to do with me, with your legacy. All my children. Wastes of my time.”

  Then Lexie was standing, too, Dane following suit, and it was like there was some instinct in the man that had him putting his body between Lexie’s and their father’s. Only Lexie was having none of that.

  “You blind, selfish old man,” she spat. She stepped around Dane, fists clenched at her sides, shoulders up.

  Their father waved his hand. “You’re the worst of them. You think I didn’t know you wanted the company for yourself? You were all prepared to push me out and stab your brother in the back.”

  Her face got redder. “I would never.”

  “‘Just give me a seat at the table, Daddy,’” he simpered, a mockery of an impression. He pointed at Rylan. “And you always humoring her.”

  Apparently the gloves were off. More than a year since it had all gone down—a silent, simmering year—and now all at once it was boiling over.

  “Because she deserved one,” Rylan said.

  “No one takes her seriously. Even if she weren’t a woman.” Their father shook his head. “You prance around in your little outfits and bark at everyone, you sleep with the staff.”

  All the color drained out of Lexie’s cheeks at once. She opened her mouth, but no sound came out.

  So Dane was the one to speak. “I assure you—”

  “Oh, not you. Though if you are, good for you.” Their father pointed to Lexie. “I finally had some hope for you, but you couldn’t even get a ring out of Jordan.”

  And Rylan’s vision clouded over for a totally different reason. “Jordan?” The name had barely made it past his lips before the pieces clicked into place. Jordan knowing about her apartment, Lexie’s failure to include him on her list. The look on her face when Rylan had brought him up. But— “He’s fifteen years older than you.”

  Lexie’s hands shook, and she didn’t even look at him. All her focus was on their father. Her throat bobbed, but then she found her voice. Quiet and razor-sharp, she said, “I didn’t get a ring out of him because he only wanted me to get to you.”

  So it was true.

  Rylan was going to kill that piece of shit.

  Still trembling, Lexie turned on her heel. It wasn’t the dramatic exit she might’ve hoped for as she waited for the guards to let her out. Swabbing at her eyes, she ran for it the second the doors opened. Dane gave them each one look before following after. And then it was just Rylan and his dad, and he couldn’t make his feet work. His throat was knives.

  “You just gonna stand there?” His father was still in his seat, as calm as could be, an imperiousness to his eyes that Rylan wanted to wipe right off his face with his fist.

  He stopped himself, just barely. This wasn’t the place. This wasn’t the time.

  Fighting for composure, he drew himself up to his full height. Put on the same bullshit posture his father wore. The one he himself had taught him to affect.

  “No. I’m going to walk out of here, because I’m a free man.” Licks of fire filled his chest. “I’m going to go pick up the pieces of my sister and all the other messes you left behind.”

  He was going to do what he’d been refusing to for so long. What he always should’ve done.

  “I’m going to lead this family,” he said, and the flames in his lungs curled and spread, fueling him. “I’m going to do what you never have.”

  What only Rylan could.

  Chapter TWENTY-FOUR

  Lexie couldn’t breathe.

  She pushed through the last of the three hundred fucking doors to emerge out into too-bright light, a brilliant blue autumn sky stretching out in front of her, but then it was narrowing, her peripheral vision graying out as static filled her ears.

  She kept walking, though. That much she knew how to do. Her heels might be killing her, her Spanx strangling her, and her eyes were stinging from more than just the wind, but she’d made it through worse.

  She wanted to toss her head back and laugh.

  How many times had she visited her father since the trial? A dozen at least, and maybe their meetings hadn’t been perfect, but they’d been polite.

  She shook her hands at her sides and blinked hard at the sun.

  What the hell had she been thinking, bringing Rylan here? She couldn’t even pretend he’d twisted her arm. He’d made the faintest hint of a suggestion, and she’d been all over it. Eager to show off how much their father appreciated her now. To be the one who brought the prodigal son home at last.

  To maybe, finally, be recognized as the one who had stayed.

  She was never going to learn, was she?

  God, but her father hadn’t been pulling his punches today. He’d set eyes on Rylan, and he’d been lashing out from practically the first word. She’d just gotten caught in the cross fire, was all. He hadn’t meant any of it. Hadn’t meant to leave her one throbbing bruise.

  She bit down on the inside of her cheek until she tasted blood.

  Except it was all stuff he’d said to her before, if not so bluntly. He’d never thought she was cut out for corporate America. She definitely wasn’t good enough to take the reins of the company with her name on the door. She was frivolous and ridiculous and—

  But he’d never called her a slut before.

  Stopping right there on the pavement, still what felt like miles away from the car, she squeezed her eyes shut tight.

  Jordan. How the hell had he known about Jordan? Had everybody known?

  The laugh she’d choked back before bubbled out of her this time, unstoppable and raw. Christ, she was such a cliché.

  The ingénue. The little girl with her pocketful of daddy issues being seduced by the older man who told her she was special.

  And who’d left her as her world splintered into pieces.

  “Ms. Bellamy?”

  The static in her ears flared and faded as a voice from behind her shouted through the roar.

  Right.

  Because her father hadn’t only had to bring up how much of a disappointment and a joke and a whore she was. He’d had to do it in front of Dane.

  She started walking again, fast clicks of her heels against the asphalt, and then behind her, the steadier, deeper thud of a
man’s even gait, and everything in her told her to run.

  Nothing had even happened between them yet. When she’d needed someone to help her out around the office, she’d gone to the temp pool. His had been one of a handful of files she’d pulled, his credentials no better or worse than any of the others. She hadn’t expected much.

  And then this man had walked into her office, his shoulders as wide as the door, his manner quiet and his blue-gray eyes so deep she’d thought they’d see to the very heart of her. He’d been crisply efficient and preternaturally calm, and the first time he’d reached into the space between them—the space she kept around herself like it could protect her somehow—the warmth had seared her to her bones. Just a touch of a hand on hers or at the bend in her arm and all the cold places inside her threatened to go to water.

  Right now, her skin was crackling, fire racing through her nerves. If he got too close she’d burn him. She burned through people. It was what she did.

  If he touched her, she wouldn’t melt. She’d shatter.

  “Ms. Bellamy. Wait up.”

  “Go away,” she managed to force out.

  A hand grabbed her wrist, broad and warm, and she yanked it back. But that grip refused to let go.

  She shook her head, still walking, still pulling away, but then somehow Dane was in front of her, and she stopped short, breath catching.

  All these little reassuring brushes, but he’d never been this close before. The woodsy scent of him surrounded her, the solid expanse of his chest all she could see.

  “Ms. Bellamy.” His throat bobbed. “Lexie.”

  He’d never said her name like that.

  And she always had a rejoinder, a snarky reply, something to say to deflect. But her tongue had turned to stone.

  He’d just witnessed her worst nightmare, had seen her completely humiliated.

  He was her employee.

  And right now, all she wanted was comfort. It was all she’d ever wanted but had so rarely allowed herself to accept. Hysteria made her lungs seize up.

  Look what had happened the last time she’d let someone get close.

  Trembling, she tried again to pull away. She had to be radiating hurt and mortification and this need for someone, please, someone, to take care of her. But if he tried to put his arms around her, if he tried—