Slow and deep meditative breaths moved his chest up and down in a comforting rhythm. Nothing mattered except his physical body.
Nothing mattered.
It was just him and his body.
Mind blank. Breaths even.
Each movement was a silent meditation.
That only lasted until he left the shower and got dressed in one of the loose pants and T-shirts he kept at the cabin. A gleam of silver atop the fireplace caught his eye and held it.
With more than a little hesitation, Roman went to the large hammered-silver box his mother had bought in India on one of their trips together. It was cool between his palms and he took it with him to the couch.
After another calming breath, Roman opened it.
When the lawyers had read the will, they’d explicitly mentioned the box she’d left for him and him alone at the cabin. The cabin was also his, along with half of the money she’d inherited from her own family. Before he’d fully grown up, Lance had lost all interest in the cabin. He was more city boy than anything else.
Roman, though, liked the quiet. Just like his mother.
He took another breath and slowly opened the silver box.
The scent of Nag Champa drifted up from its long-enclosed interior and slammed Roman in the gut.
Langston Sykes used to tease his wife mercilessly about burning the incense all the time and making her rooms smell like a hippie commune. It was a smell that Roman, though not a fan of incense himself, associated with his mother.
He breathed in the smoky, sweet scent and reached inside the box.
A set of wedding rings, white diamonds set in platinum, winked from atop a stack of letters. He traced the diamonds on the ring, remembering the times he’d touched his mother’s hand and felt those rings, warmed by her body heat, under his fingers.
God, he missed her.
Two years. It had been that long since she’d died from a particularly vicious attack of the flu. Two years since she’d left the box for him. But he’d never opened it. He couldn’t. Before, every time he’d even thought of opening the box, a sharp pain had lanced through his chest. So the box had remained there, untouched, in the cabin. A gleaming ghost that frightened him. That he couldn’t bring himself to touch.
Now, though, with the pain of losing Aisha a more intense hurt than the fear of finally knowing what the last thing his mother had wanted to give him was, he took out the rings, slid them onto his pinky finger and picked up the first letter. He began to read.
Roman, my firstborn. My child of love. I know the last thing you ever wanted was to read anything like this from me. This must be tearing you apart, and I’m so sorry.
A lump rose up in his throat and slid back down. The letter blurred in front of his eyes. He could hear his mother as clearly as if she spoke to him from the other side of the sofa.
I know things are hard for you right now, but they won’t be forever. You can choose that it won’t be forever. Staying with your father all these years, I know I haven’t been a positive example of the way choice can affect a life. But despite how hard things have been for me, I wouldn’t have done it any other way. The life I had as your mother isn’t one I regret, but I want you to know you don’t have to make the same decisions and sacrifices I did.
Sykes Global can be yours, or not.
You can stay in America, or not.
You can commit to and love another person, or not.
You choose. Grasp the happiness I never had the courage to take for myself.
Roman put the letter away, his hands trembling.
Courage. The word stuck with him as he read the other letters, allowing the beautiful lines of cursive to evoke the woman who had raised him to be the man he was.
The words seemed to float off the page and around him, filling the cabin with her voice. Without trying too hard, he could see her sitting by the fire, her favorite blue scarf around her neck, a long dress down to her ankles as she sat in the oversize chair and watched Roman with a tender gaze.
He picked up the last letter.
You’re my son, but you’re also your father’s. I know you want to push that part of you away, but you have his mind, his uncompromising brilliance, and that’s what he needs to keep the company moving forward. He’ll ask you to be his successor after I’m gone, but I want you to know it’s possible to be his heir and to also be yourself.
Roman put the letter down and heard her words echo inside him. She’d always been so sure of him when he hadn’t been sure of himself. He’d railed at her in the past, saying he wanted nothing to do with the man who treated his wife and children like accessories to be put on when an occasion called for it but otherwise ignored.
The last few weeks had brought a mountain of new responsibility, but at no point had he canceled an outing with Merrine or promise himself that he’d call Aisha later just so he could work more. He went into the office early, but he left himself time to enjoy his life out in the world. The balance he had found had been effortless and surprising.
Balance. Courage.
He thought again of Aisha. The things he’d confided in her. The things she’d shared with him.
No, he couldn’t allow the worst parts of his father to shape how he related to the people he cared about.
Langston Sykes had been all suspicion first then verification and then, far, far down the line, forgiveness. Roman couldn’t afford to be that man. He wasn’t that man.
Aisha deserved an explanation about what had happened with the prize and, no matter Roman’s suspicions about her motives, it was a conversation they needed to have face-to-face.
A glance at the clock over the mantel told him it was late, much too late to find Aisha to tell her what he wanted to say.
But an hour later, with a mug of tea and all his mother’s letters reread and spread out in front of him, Roman knew he couldn’t wait a moment longer. He put the letters and the rings back in the silver box and returned it to the mantel. Some things couldn’t wait. And this was one of them.
Chapter 21
On her lunch break, Aisha called Dev to cancel dinner that night. She was just too raw from her conversation with Roman to pretend everything was okay. Her sister tried to change her mind, but Aisha insisted and went home right after work. Her family was aggressive in the way they cared, and each was determined to make sure Aisha was all right.
But she wasn’t all right.
Which was why she shouldn’t have been surprised when her doorbell rang a few minutes past seven, a courtesy really, before the key turned and all the Clarks tumbled inside.
“If you won’t come to the celebration, then the celebration will come to you.” Her mother pulled her in for a long hug. “Congratulations, love. I knew you could do it.”
From the shelter of her mother’s embrace, she looked over her shoulder at Dev, who shook her head and mouthed Sorry as she shrugged.
One by one, they passed her around for hugs, cheek kisses and congratulations. Ahmed and Elle, Dev and Bennett. The family. But none of the friends Aisha partied with on occasional Saturday nights, thank God.
Bennett carried two bottles of red wine and Devyn had a box of cupcakes with Baked Good’s logo. Elle had a casserole dish in hand that smelled suspiciously like the roasted cauliflower tossed in garlic sauce that had quickly become Aisha’s favorite once she’d gained the businesswoman for a sister-in-law.
Overwhelmed, she sagged into their touch, their warmth, their love, not realizing until that very moment that was exactly what she needed.
But she didn’t have to be gracious about it. Wiping at the tears that unexpectedly fell from her eyes, she waved them inside.
“Come on in. You might as well make yourselves comfortable since you’re already here.”
“Such a great hostess.” Ahmed laughed and headed for the kitchen. Moments
later he came back with plates and glasses. The food and wine were on the dining room table while Eloise watched it all with curious eyes, too well-behaved to jump up on the furniture and beg for food while other humans were around.
“So, what’s up?” Dev pulled her down onto the couch and her mother sank into the cushions on the other side of Aisha. “Why did you cancel on us?”
While the men conveniently made themselves scarce, Elle poured wine for everyone and curled up on the cozy armchair a short reach away. Then she made a soft sound of realization and sat back up. “If you don’t want to say what’s wrong in front of me, it’s okay.”
“No, no. You stay,” Aisha said, flapping a hand at her. “For better or worse, you’re part of the family now.”
A pleased smile touched Elle’s mouth. She pressed the glass of sweet red into Aisha’s hand and Aisha curled her fingers around it before taking a sip.
Spilling the whole story brought a feeling of relief rushing through her, even with the sadness and regret from the end of it all.
“What about the prize?” Elle asked. “Don’t you want that anymore?”
“With this new job, I don’t need it. It’s enough to know that I won it fairly the first time.” She tried to shrug it off and be philosophical about it, but, oh God, it hurt so much. Tears burned her eyes.
“Oh, honey...” Like Aisha was still a little kid, her mother scooped her into her arms and rested Aisha’s head on her chest. The blouse under her cheeks quickly grew wet with her silent tears.
Dev cursed and gulped from her wineglass. “This sucks. I’m so sorry, Aisha.” Aisha felt her light touch on her back, patting her gently.
“Are you sure it’s over, love?” her mother asked.
“I’m sure.” Aisha pressed her lips together to stop a pathetic cry from spilling out. “He thinks that I...that I...” She couldn’t finish what she was trying to say. Just the idea that she had used him to get the prize made her a little sick. How could he even think that? Then again, she knew anything she and Roman had shared would be tainted by what had drawn them together in the first place—the Sykes Prize.
“We know you’re not like that,” Elle said, looking ready to cry herself. “And that’s the most important thing.”
Dev shook her head. “No, the important thing is getting that man to take his head out of his butt and see Aisha doesn’t do that kind of manipulative crap.”
Just then Ahmed poked his head through the open French doors that separated the living room from the back porch. “Is there somebody’s ass we need to kick?”
“Maybe,” Elle said at the same moment Aisha shook her head and Dev said, “Yes!”
Bennett, handsome in slacks and a light blue button-up, slid the doors open wider and stood with a whiskey glass in his hand. “We should probably leave the butt-kicking to the women and just show up with bail money.”
“Good idea.” Ahmed nodded.
“We’re fine,” Elle said and waved them away.
Like good husbands, they ducked out the door and went back to whatever they’d been doing.
“Honey, look at me.” At her mother’s command, Aisha slowly lifted her head. “This could all just be a misunderstanding. Try to see things clearly with this man and not allow your assumptions and hurt feelings to cost you that spark I’ve seen in your eyes over the last few weeks. You love him. Fight for him.” Her hand smoothed Aisha’s back. “See him in person. Make sure this is what you think it is.”
Just then the doorbell rang.
Dev glanced toward it. “This better not be pizza. Ahmed’s been threatening to get Aisha some so-called real ‘celebration food’ ever since we decided to come over.” She got up to answer the door and Aisha immediately missed the comforting touch of her hand.
Assuming it was pizza, Dev grabbed her purse on her way to the door.
Pizza did sound good, though, Aisha thought. She was never the kind of girl to lose her appetite when she was sad. The more food, the better. More points if it was greasy and really bad for you.
Behind her, Dev opened the door. Her sister’s silence immediately warned Aisha it wasn’t who they’d thought it was.
“Good evening,” a familiar voice rumbled from the doorway. “Is Aisha home?”
Roman.
Aisha stiffened in her mother’s lap.
“Is it okay that he’s here?” Elle asked, standing. She faced the direction of the door, looking ready to toss Roman out if Aisha so much as hinted she wanted him gone.
“It’s fine,” she said, clambering out of her mother’s lap and feeling color burn into her cheeks. As she spoke, she felt him zero in on her from the door.
Aisha went to the door, resisting the urge to tug down her dress and smooth her hair. In the doorway, Roman looked a lot like he had the day they’d met. Running shoes, dark gray workout pants and a T-shirt showing off his lean and veined forearms.
“Come in,” she said and Dev reluctantly stepped back to let him enter.
Behind her, she sensed movement and heard the patio doors open, but she couldn’t take her eyes off Roman. She cleared her throat.
“Dev, you remember Roman.” Her sister gave him a nod of greeting and moved to stand by her side, a hand around Aisha’s waist. “Roman, you remember my sister, Devyn.”
Looking both serious and a little nervous, Roman gave an odd, old-fashioned bow. “Good to see you again.”
What was going on? Why was he there?
The sudden hum of conversation behind her finally forced Aisha to look away from Roman’s intense gaze. The men had come in and, along with Elle and Aisha’s mother, were heading toward them.
“I think it’s time for us to be on our way and leave you kids to talk,” her mother said.
The others didn’t look convinced, but they were leaving anyway, propelled by her mother’s urging.
Her mother kissed her cheek as she passed. “Call if you need anything, love. I’ll be near the phone all night.” To Roman, she gave a slight smile then slipped out the door.
First Elle then Ahmed hugged Aisha and she held on tight to each of them for a moment before letting go. Before he left, Ahmed faced Roman. “I’m as mean as I look, so you better watch yourself with my sister.”
Bennett’s clenched jaw was no less threatening and Dev didn’t bother saying anything to Roman after she hugged Aisha tight and walked out. When the door closed behind her family, Aisha turned and headed back into the living room.
“Can I get you anything to drink?” The social niceties seemed like a good place to start because otherwise she had no idea how to act or what to say to Roman.
“I’ll take some of that wine over there but...” He scrubbed a hand over his face and looked around, seeming to notice the signs of a celebration for the first time. “I’m sorry,” he said, sounding truly contrite. “I didn’t know I was interrupting something.”
“That’s generally what happens when you drop by unannounced.” For want of anything else sensible to do, Aisha grabbed an empty wineglass and poured some of the Shiraz into it for Roman.
Their hands brushed when she passed him the wine, an electric current zapping between them and nearly making Aisha drop the wine before the transfer properly happened. But Roman held the glass firmly, as well as her gaze.
“Thank you for letting me in.” He put the wine to his lips.
Hungrily, Aisha watched as his lips parted and red wine flowed between them, leaving the seam of his mouth painted a faint burgundy. Deliberately, it seemed, he licked his lips. She yanked her gaze away, nearly falling over her feet to get away from him. Desperately needing some fresh air, she lurched for the patio doors.
Roman pulled them closed after he followed her outside.
The evening’s breeze brushed against Aisha’s face, cooling her cheeks. With her wineglass in hand, she crossed the b
ackyard to sit in the hammock under the magnolia tree. The chain of the swing just a touch away groaned when Roman settled into it. Quiet settled between them, making Aisha grip the wineglass tighter.
Roman sighed. “This afternoon wasn’t fair. To either of us.”
“What do you mean?”
“For my part, I should have made sure we had that conversation face-to-face—”
“The one where you tell me you changed your mind about the prize, or the one where you tell me you never meant to let me have it in the first place?” Even just saying the words hurt.
“Neither. I should have told you—” He huffed. “Lance was the one who publicly canceled the prize. I didn’t find out until this morning when I saw the press release in my email.”
What? She replayed his words in her mind. He was saying he hadn’t been responsible? It was so far from what she’d thought had happened that it took a moment for her to process his statement. So he hadn’t betrayed her? He hadn’t lied? A tentative gladness burst in her chest.
“I swear to you, I didn’t know he’d done it.” He took a gulp of his wine then looked down at it. It was probably sweeter than what he was used to. “You and I had an agreement and I planned to stick with it. But then Lance broadsided me with that underhanded bull and I was angry with him—and then I was angry at myself for not realizing sooner that he and I have different agendas.”
Wow. To have your sibling go behind your back and do something like that... “The reactions to the announcement weren’t very positive,” she remarked instead. “Not on Twitter anyway.”
Roman made a noise. “Hell no. After you and I talked, and after I did some investigating, I realized what good the prize has done for the company’s reputation. The tax write-off isn’t bad, either, obviously. You have to know I wouldn’t have made a move that damaged the business my father put in my care.”
The CEO's Dilemma ; Undeniable Passion Page 16