My mom lay sprawled across the couch, a mostly empty bottle of wine next to her on the floor. I recognized it as one of Molly’s. She was going to kill me.
“Mom?” I asked in disbelief, looking around the room to see if one of my brothers or father would be waiting to ambush me as well.
She lifted her head and peered up at me through bloodshot eyes. “You’re home.”
“Yeah.” I closed the door and set my bag down on the table next to the couch, swinging around to get a better look at her. “And you are also here.”
Mom shuffled further upright until her shoulders were back, spine straight. She gripped her hands in her lap and her head hung a little.
“We need to talk,” she said.
I ground my teeth. “If you’ve come to make one last desperate plea to—“
“No, sweetie, no.”
She sounded so sad, so beaten. I couldn’t understand what my mother was doing in my living room but I had a feeling it was for a different reason than those who’d shown up before her.
“Justin told me where to find you,” she began. “I told him that I was going to try to talk to you, maybe even told myself that too. Drank a bit before I came here. Sorry I left the door open.”
I perched on the coffee table opposite her. “Why are you here then?”
Mom licked her chapped lips and sighed. “I wanted to say I’m sorry.”
My eyebrows shot to the roof. Her? Sorry? I’d never heard those words come out of her mouth before and didn’t understand why she’d said them now. I wanted to be on guard but I found it difficult when she sat in front of me, looking so sad and defeated.
“Is everything okay?” I asked. “Did something happen?”
My heart kicked up a notch. If any of them had hurt her, taken out their anger at me on my mom...
But she gave a small shake of her head and focused her watery eyes on mine. “No. I mean, yes, but nothing like that. I guess what happened was I finally had a wake-up call, Gemma. A big one.”
Now I needed a drink. I grabbed the bottle and unscrewed the top. Mom whimpered in protest but I merely gave her a look that communicated it wasn’t up for debate.
I took a swig of the wine and wiped the back of my hand over my mouth. “And what does this wake-up call entail, exactly?”
Her eyes softened. “You’re angry with me.”
“Of course I am. You were the one person I could always rely on to be kind to me but also who I could never rely on to stand up for me.”
“I know.” She nodded, dropping her gaze. “I was a bad mother.”
I sighed and moved onto the couch next to her, unable to take the look of desolation full frontal. Her coming here was a big deal and I knew it was important for me to hear her out.
“I’m not sure it’s as simple as that.” I wrapped an arm around her shoulders, and she leaned in. The familiar scent of wine and cinnamon twirled around me, and I let my head fall against her crown.
“I’m sorry, Gemma,” Mom said quietly. “I’m sorry I couldn’t be the person you needed me to be. I’m sorry I couldn’t be the person I needed me to be. I’ve got so many regrets, I’ve missed so many opportunities. I would take it all back if I could.”
“You can’t,” I said. “And you know what? If you could we might not be here. We could be somewhere much worse. I’ve learned a lot in the past couple of years, and one of the most important lessons is that the only thing you can focus on is the future. Lamenting the past only holds you back.”
She pulled back and looked at me, eyes brimming with tears. “I was amazed to see you standing there in the living room, proud and tall. You stood up to your brothers and father in a way that I never could, and the only thing I can remember thinking is how much I wished I could have been a part of that transformation. For both of us.”
“You’re here now.” I cocked my head, adding, “Why are you here now?”
She sniffled and I rose from the couch, crossing to the kitchen to grab her some paper towel. I returned and handed it to her, waiting patiently as she blew her nose and wiped her swollen red eyes.
“When I left, I thought it was just because I needed to tell you that I was proud of you,” she said. “And I am. Very proud. You’re becoming the person I was never strong enough to be.”
“What do you mean?” I sat back next to her and she leaned against my shoulder.
“I was a little younger than you when I married your father,” she said. “He was the country club prince of my parents’ dreams and I knew it made them proud to see me at his side. It made me proud too, for a while. I thought true love was just something sold to us in fairy tales and movies, and that I’d never find it. I didn’t love him, but I tried. I’m not sure he ever tried to love me.”
I’d never thought about my parents’ relationship like that before. I guess I always assumed that there’d been some sort of whirlwind romance at the beginning that had brought them together. I never realized I would find so many parallels between my mom’s situation and my own with Niles.
“It wasn’t long after we got married that I realized we would never be happy in the way I thought a married couple ought to be,” she explained. “I told my parents this, asked what I should do, and all they told me was that I was silly for believing in such saccharine nonsense. I’d find happiness in my children, they promised, and I listened to them. They were right, for the most part. Your brothers were such sweet babies, hardly ever cried and loved to cuddle their mama.” Her expression soured and she clutched the paper towel in a claw-like grip. “But the older they got, the more like your father they became. They idolized him. Still do. And I watched Andrew take them from me and pervert my little boys into miniature versions of him.”
She met my eye and softened. “But I had you, and you stayed sweet. You stayed mine. It was such a relief that I had a ray of light in that darkness.”
My mom had never talked about our relationship like this before and it broke my heart. I held her hand, feeling closer to her than I ever had.
“I failed you, baby.” Her eyes swam with tears again. “I wanted to stay strong for you, but I couldn’t. After so much unhappiness all I wanted was to be numb, and numbness wasn’t somewhere I could take you with me.”
“You didn’t fail me,” I whispered, even though it was a thought I’d had many times. “I’m right here. I’m okay.”
“But that’s not my doing, is it?” she said with a sardonic smile. “You did that all on your own, and I am so proud of you.”
Emotion flooded my bones and I blinked back tears. I’d always been able to feel my mother’s love, but it never seemed to come out when I needed it. Now I understood why.
“I forgive you,” I said.
Her lip quivered and she pulled me in for a hug, inhaling my scent and squeezing me in her small, bony arms. “You’re the best thing that ever happened to me.”
I’d often felt conflicted loving my mother the way I did. A small voice would argue she didn’t deserve it, not when she sat by the wayside and let my brothers and father torment me. I could still be angry if I wanted to, but I didn’t. I wanted to move forward with my life, and releasing all the anger at my mother was a huge step in doing so.
I hugged her back, and we swayed from side to side, half crying, half laughing. When we finally pulled away my mom swallowed and took a deep breath.
“This might be a lot to ask, but could I stay with you tonight?”
“Of course you can,” I said, nodding.
“After thirty years of a luxurious prison cell, I don’t think I can go back,” she said. “But I’m worried that I will.”
“I won’t let you,” I said. “We’re going to work through this together. You can lean on me.”
She sniffed and broke out into a smile. “I’ve got a lot to learn from you, Gemma.”
They were only a few words, but they meant more than the rest of our conversation had.
Mom yawned. “I know it’s early, but I
’m exhausted. Would you mind if I got some sleep?”
I smiled and pulled her in for another hug. I tried to coax her into switching and taking my bed, but she wouldn’t have it. After grabbing some more pillows and I blanket, I set her up on the couch and bid her goodnight. Then I went to my room to do some homework, texting Molly first to make sure she wasn’t alarmed when she came home and found a stranger on our couch.
Molly came home later that evening and crept down the hallway past my sleeping mother, stopping at my door. She peered through the crack. “Knock knock.”
I put down my book and rubbed my tired eyes. “Hey, come in.”
Molly slipped into my room and came to sit at the foot of my bed. “So, that’s your mom?”
“That’s my mom,” I confirmed. All I’d said in the text was that my mom was spending the night and that I’d explain later. Now it was time to explain. “Do you want the long or the short version?”
“Definitely long.”
“Okay,” I said, taking a breath. “Where to begin?”
I told Molly everything—my troubled and often conflicted relationship with my mom, how she’d reacted when I went to confront my family, and about everything she’d revealed to me today during our heart-to-heart. At the end, I asked Molly if Mom could stay with us for a while. I didn’t know how long it would be until she got on her feet but wanted to be there for her as much as I could.
Molly grinned. “You’re starting a revolution.”
I opened my mouth to make a joking retort, but paused. I hadn’t thought about it like that, which was strange since that’s what Mom had been saying to me all night.
She was proud of me. I inspired her. Would she have ever had the courage to leave if I hadn’t paved the way?
I never realized I could have that kind of effect on another person. Not like this. I aspired to make a change in the lives of the kids I would teach one day, but hadn’t expected my actions in life to ever make that much of a difference.
I smiled. “Call me Castro.”
Molly saluted and left the room, and I settled back into my homework with a grin.
I’d come a long way from the downtrodden mouse afraid of her own reflection. Finally, I knew I was the person I wanted to be. Not on the way there, not in progress, but whole and complete.
Chapter 31
Dominik
I shrugged off the strap of my satchel and tossed it onto the couch, letting out a great sigh. It was a happy sigh, even if a bit tired. I’d spent the entire day getting up to speed on my new position, which involved cramming a lot of information into my brain. Now that I was home all I wanted to do was relax.
But I couldn’t.
I only had a couple of weeks until I had to move out and I’d just begun the process of packing. Since I still hadn’t found a place that suited me, I’d booked a storage locker and a hotel. I wasn’t in a rush. If I had to leave this place, I at least wanted to find somewhere that would make me halfway as happy. So far none of the condos I’d checked out had fit the bill.
Before packing, however, I had a phone call to make. I dug my phone out and dialed Gemma’s number.
“Hey, you,” she answered, sounding a little out breath.
“You’re not with another man, are you?”
She chuckled. “Oh yeah. Me and Mr. Toilet Brush are having a really sexy time together. You should see the places he can reach.”
“Sounds absolutely filthy.”
“Ugh. You have no idea.” She breathed out a sigh. “How was your first day? Were the other kids nice?”
I laughed. “Only one or two pulled my hair. All in all, I’d say it was a success.”
“I’m glad. You think you’re going to enjoy it?”
I thought back on my day, which had been an absolute whirlwind, and smiled. “You know, I think I will. They’re disorganized and a little all over the place, but in a few weeks, I’ll have Rocks in ship shape.”
“Of course you will,” she replied. “Anyway, it was good to hear from you but Rosa’s in a sour mood today. I should get back to work.”
“Rosa’s always in a sour mood.” I walked to the fridge and grabbed a beer. “Will I see you later?”
“Give me two hours and I’m all yours.”
“Diamond, don’t ever make the mistake of thinking you’re not mine.” A dark shiver ran through me and I gripped the cool bottle tightly. I wished Gemma was here right now, so that I could drive that point home.
I could tell she was thinking along the same lines because her voice was a little hoarser when she spoke next. “One day back as the head honcho and it’s already gone to your head.”
“Speaking of head...”
“See you later! Love you bye!” She hung up and my lips curved into a wicked grin, cock tightening in my pants. It would be a long couple of hours, but Gemma was well worth the wait.
I took a swig of my beer and looked at the stack of flattened boxes in the corner, then swept my gaze over the living room. Where to start first?
The books, I decided, and set to work.
I’d packed up three boxes when the doorman buzzed, signaling a visitor. I knew it couldn’t be Gemma because she always came straight up, and walked to the intercom curiously.
I pressed the button. “Yes?”
“Mr. Orlov, I have a Fyodor Orlov here for you,” said the doorman.
I paused. “Yeah, send him up.”
I stepped back from the intercom and frowned. What was my father doing here? Had I not been clear enough with him last time? It wasn’t like Fyodor to grovel, and since he had no more threats to use I didn’t know how else he hoped to force me into marrying Valentina.
I waited patiently by the front door, downing the rest of my beer in a couple of swallows. Fyodor knocked. I answered.
He looked no different than when I’d seen him last, and I wasn’t sure what I expected. Maybe a little more desperate? A little ruffled?
“This is a surprise,” I said, welcoming him inside. “Can I get you a drink.”
Father nodded. “Vodka.”
I stepped into the kitchen and brought him a glass of vodka, which he drank in one smooth gulp. Whatever had brought him here wasn’t sitting well with him, which was curious to me. I never saw him uncomfortable.
If he’d come to yell at me some more, or remind me that I was a disappointment, he wouldn’t look like this. He’d don that granite expression I was accustomed to and get down to business. Fyodor didn’t like long silences and he didn’t like beating around the bush, so the fact that he’d been in my penthouse for at least two minutes without saying a word other than “vodka” was curious.
“What do you want?” I asked.
Fyodor walked through to the living room and sat on the couch. He set the glass down on the coffee table and adjusted his suit jacket. I stayed standing, twirling the empty beer bottle in my fingers.
“Your sassy American girlfriend said something that I have not been able to forget,” he admitted.
I raised an eyebrow, urging him to continue.
He sighed, grinding his teeth, as if he were considering leaping off the couch and out of my life. Then he continued.
“Your mother...your mother would be ashamed of me. In many ways.”
This was an admission I never thought I’d get out of him. I was so surprised I had to sit down. I was afraid that if I said anything it might scare him off, so waited silently for him to continue.
The clock ticked by, and for a second it seemed like he would never speak again. Then he cleared his throat.
“I have not been the father she would have wanted me to be,” he said. “The father I should have been. The same day I became a father I also became a widower, and that trade has always been hard for me to swallow.”
No shit, I wanted to say. But I stayed quiet.
“I do not regret many of the lessons I have taught you, but in one way I went much too far.” He met my eye. “I would like you to return to the co
mpany, free to marry who you wish.”
I raised both brows and sat back a little. “Huh.”
An interesting turn of events. I would be touched, if I thought for a second he meant it out of any true remorse. More likely than not, this sudden change of heart had more to do with his struggle to find an adequate replacement for me. Fyodor valued his business more than anything, though sometimes his pride took precedence. He made a decision with his pride when he ousted me from the company, and now he was paying the price for it.
Still, it would be easy to accept his peace offering and go back to the way things were. Perhaps with time my father and I might even learn to accept each other’s faults and personalities, and build some sort of alliance.
I considered it for a moment, but ultimately I knew what I had to do. I shook my head.
“I’ve got a new job. I don’t want to take steps backward.”
Now that I’d had a taste of freedom, there was no way I could deliver myself back into the Orlov prison. My new position had potential, and I wanted to build my own success. I might fail, and taking my old position back would certainly be the safer option, but life was too short to play it safe.
I thought Fyodor would drop his whole act and start yelling at me. He didn’t.
“You’re sure?” he asked. He seemed well and truly surprised. I could only imagine he thought I’d leap into his arms with joy at the thought of getting my life back to normal, but a lot had changed since I left the company. I had changed.
I nodded. “I’m afraid so.”
“Okay.” Fyodor rose to his feet and swiped his tongue over his lip. “I’m going back to Moscow in the morning. We will not see each other for some time.”
What was going on with him? This wasn’t typical Fyodor behavior at all. By this point he should be telling me that I was making the wrong decision and I’d never see him again. He should be pink with fury. Acceptance looked strange on my father’s features and it was oddly disquieting.
Somewhere in the back of my mind it registered this would be a good time to get my revenge on the old man, tell him exactly how I felt about his years of coldness and deliver a few verbal punches. This was the most vulnerable I’d ever seen him. Who knew when I’d get another chance?
Mister Diamond Page 19