His face fell at the cold reality of his daughter’s situation. He lived in a luxurious home, and she didn’t own a credit card? His cheeks flushed as he looked down at the cherry table and quietly inquired, “When did you get out?”
“A little over a month ago.”
“Where are you staying?”
“At Kirsten’s.”
“Kirsten’s?”
“Kirsten Holland. She was my roommate at DePaul, remember?”
After a few tense moments, he asked, “Why didn’t you come here?”
Sophie dared to look into his eyes, framed by lines of worry. Her father appeared to have aged ten years since she last saw him, and noticing his emerging fragility she wondered why she’d been so intimidated by him all her life. “Because I didn’t think you wanted me here,” she said.
“What? Why on earth did you think that?”
Her brown eyes flared with year-old fury. “Oh, gee, Dad. I don’t know, maybe because you didn’t visit me once in prison?” Will averted his gaze, but Sophie wasn’t going to let him off the hook that easily. “Or maybe it was the fact that you didn’t say one word to me at her funeral.” She felt her chest tighten and added, “Anyway, I got the message loud and clear.”
Sophie felt the hole inside her grow larger with each second of continued silence. She would never earn her father’s approval, and it was stupid to come to his house when she needed comforting. Will Taylor: construction magnate, coldhearted businessman—he would never be able to comfort her. “I should go,” she muttered, scraping her chair across the expensive tile.
“No,” Will said, standing with his daughter. “Please don’t go, Sophie.”
She glanced angrily at his face and was stunned to see tears.
“I—I—I’m sorry,” he stuttered. “That was inexcusable, what I did. Please, sit back down. I—I want to talk. I need to talk to you. Please, Sophie?”
Swallowing hard, she paused, then slowly felt herself buckling back into her chair, never taking her eyes off him. After Will resumed his sitting position as well, he folded his hands on the table, taking a deep breath.
“I thought it would be easier,” he began, talking to the table. “Easier … not to see you. You look just like her,” he choked out, gazing lovingly at her thick strawberry-blond hair and intelligent brown eyes. “You remind me so much of your mother.”
Sophie took in his words, listening and evaluating, unsure how to react.
He went on. “But when you came here last night, looking so heartbroken, so troubled … I realized how wrong I’ve been. I need you here, Sophie. I shouldn’t be pushing you away. I should be reaching out to you. I’m sorry, so sorry I haven’t been there for you.”
She was dumbfounded. “When you avoided me at the funeral—that’s because I reminded you of Mom?”
“Yes.”
“I thought …” Her voice trailed off, and she didn’t know if she should finish her sentence, though her father looked at her expectantly. “I thought you blamed me for Mom’s heart attack.”
His eyes widened with horror. “God, no! How could you think such a thing?” He ran his hands through his hair, anguished. “No wonder you didn’t come here. No wonder you didn’t call.” He exhaled forcefully. “I’m a horrible father.”
“No, you’re not,” she said. “I’m the one who got arrested and sent to prison. I’m the horrible one.”
“You’re not horrible,” Will corrected. “You just got involved in the wrong profession.”
“Oh, God, not this again.”
“If you had joined my business, if you had agreed to work with me, this never would have happened, Sophie. I never would have let some mobster ingratiate himself with you like that.”
“Dad!”
“But obviously I was not persuasive enough to make you follow the right path. Like I said, I’m a horrible father.”
“No, you’re not,” Sophie argued again, but as she heard the words, she was infuriated. He was making this all about him. What about her? Why the hell was she taking care of his emotions instead of her own?
He rebutted, “Yes, I—”
“This is bullshit!” she yelled, causing Will to pause midsentence. She rushed ahead. “You weren’t persuasive enough? You kicked me out of the damn house! You stopped paying for my college. Now I have major student loans hanging over my head, thanks to your persuasion for me to major in accounting instead of psychology.”
He looked astonished, but Sophie could not stop her wounded diatribe. “I was so hurt when you cut me off like that! I was so scared of being all on my own. And then, when you didn’t visit me in prison … when you looked at me that way at Mom’s funeral …”
She felt herself shaking, her cheeks flushed with the release of pent-up emotion. She turned her furious eyes on him.
“Do you know how awful it was in prison? Do you know how scared I was? How hard it was to go a whole year without talking to you once? Did you think about me at all that entire year?”
She finally paused long enough for Will to get a word in.
“I worried about you every day in there. Your mother was sick with fear—”
“She’s not here anymore, Dad!” Sophie exploded. “She’s not here to be a buffer between us. I need a father in my life, okay? I need you. I keep making really bad decisions, and I need your advice, okay? I’m sick of choosing men who hurt me! I’m sick of you never being there for me!”
Suddenly tired, Sophie found her father cautiously studying her. She withdrew, preparing for him to yell back at her for her disrespect and unladylike behavior.
Instead, Will continued staring with a curious look that bordered on admiration. “You’ve never talked to me like that before.”
“Sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry,” he said. “I deserved that.”
Sophie stared. He reached across the table and grasped her slender hand in his.
“Thank you for giving me another chance.”
“You’re not mad?”
“I wish I was. Pastor Tom told me anger was a healthy part of grief, but I can’t seem to get angry, no matter how hard I try.” He sighed. “But I wouldn’t be mad about you telling it to me straight up like that. Contractors go off on me all the time, and I don’t mind. It’s just business. I’d rather people be honest so we can solve the problem. If I’d known you could be so direct, I’d have been even more eager to hire you.”
“Dad,” she warned.
He chuckled. “Relax, I won’t incite your wrath again on the subject. I know you’re a psychologist. Um, I mean, uh, you were a psychologist.” An awkward moment passed between them and he asked, “Have you gotten yourself a job?”
“Yes, I just got a new job, but before that I was working on a ship—oh, shoot, what time is it?”
“A little before ten.”
“Oh, no, I’ve got to get there soon to talk to my boss …” She swallowed hard, silently finishing her sentence, before Grant gets there. “I have to quit.”
You know my brother?
“You’re not giving notice?” Will asked.
“What?”
“You’re not giving two weeks’ notice before you quit? That’s not a wise idea, Sophie.”
“Dad, I can’t! I have to quit today. I have no choice.” I can’t work with a man who lies.
Seeing the fear on her face, Will demanded, “What’s wrong? Why do you have to quit today?”
She bit her lip, feeling too overwhelmed to confess she had fallen in love with Logan Barberi’s brother. “It’s complicated,” she said.
“Sophie? Are you in trouble?”
“No, Dad. Well, I won’t be in trouble once I quit this job.” You know my brother? Her chest tightened. She knew it was over with Grant. She just wished it didn’t have to hurt so much. “It’s complicated,” she repeated. “I may not have made the wisest choice when it came to my last boyfriend.”
“Shocker.”
Momentarily stunned, she c
ould not stop her smile. “You’re never going to let Derek Bowden go, are you, Dad?”
“Sophie, Sophie, Sophie. You and your bad boys.” Will shook his head disapprovingly.
“Don’t worry. I’m swearing off men for the rest of my life.” She was determined to lock up her heart. She simply could not get hurt again.
Will stroked his chin. “Don’t call it quits on men yet, or else some lucky guy will miss getting to call you his wife one day.” He looked wistful. “I sure am lucky your mother married me.”
“But, Dad, you and Mom argued all the time.”
“I know, I know. I guess—you know what they say, ‘You only realize what you’ve got when it’s gone.’ I didn’t truly appreciate your mother until too late.” Sophie was shocked when her father’s voice thickened with emotion. Without excusing himself, he quickly left the kitchen.
She stared after him. You only realize what you’ve got when it’s gone. But she’d known very well what she had with Grant. She had appreciated what they shared for one glorious month. Even though he’d hurt her irrevocably, she didn’t know if she’d be able to make it without her McSailor.
* * *
Grant plodded toward the ship, grateful that his workplace was not far from the courthouse. A shooting pain seared through his left side any time he shifted the wrong way. He wondered if Logan had caused permanent damage with that last jab. But despite the pain, he had punished his body with a grueling workout. Perhaps he’d overdone his early-morning exercise regimen, but pushups were strangely calming for him, reminding him of his orderly days in the military. And running was all he knew to do when the demons of his family started chasing him again.
A paroxysm of anger and regret seized him. Recalling his heated exchange with his brother the night before, Grant ran his hand across his jaw, careful to avoid the tender bruise on his left cheek.
He hated how he’d acted like a child around his big brother the previous evening. He’d behaved like an eight year old, crying and telling Logan he wished he were dead. Grant winced as that wounded comment looped through his mind once again. What a horrible thing to say—but at least he’d gotten Logan to leave his apartment.
“You’re early!” Roger bellowed when Grant stepped onto the deck. He squinted into the July sun and saw his boss descending the steps from the bridge.
“Where’s your better half?” Roger inquired jovially.
“How should I know? I’m not her keeper,” Grant responded testily.
“Whoa. Trouble in paradise?” He noticed his employee’s battered face. “Yikes, did you let yourself get hit by a woman, Madsen? Should I call the cops and report domestic violence?”
Observing Grant’s distraught expression, Roger stopped kidding around. In a softer tone, he asked, “What’s wrong?”
Grant gulped. “Nothing. I’m going to go clean toilets.” The shit had hit the fan, and now it was time to start cleaning it up.
Roger watched him hustle aft, appearing eager to clean the restrooms for some bizarre reason. Shaking his head, Roger muttered, “Fucking parolee.”
About an hour later, Roger was reading the food section of the Chicago Tribune, drooling over a recipe for Italian sausage meatballs, when he heard his name being called. Peering down his nose, he saw Sophie looking up at him nervously.
“Is Grant here?” she asked while Roger made his way down the stairs.
He was bamboozled by her sexy black pantsuit, and he ogled her while inquiring, “How are you going to serve drinks wearing that?”
Sophie glanced down at her pantsuit. It was nothing special, particularly since she’d been wearing it two days in a row now. She hadn’t had the courage to put on one of her mother’s outfits, even though her father kept Laura’s entire wardrobe hanging in the closet.
“Rog, I, um, I can’t work today.”
“What?” he countered angrily. “I gave you yesterday off, Taylor. One day. I expect you to work today.”
“Actually, I can’t work any day. I have to, um, resign. I’m sorry.”
Roger’s jaw dropped. “You’re quitting? Why?”
She bit her lower lip. “I’m sorry, Rog. I hate to do this to you—you’ve been so kind to take me in when I really needed a job, but I …” She stopped talking as she sensed another presence on deck and felt intense gemstone eyes on her.
Swallowing hard, Sophie looked to the left, confirming that Grant had indeed emerged from wherever he’d been hiding on the ship. He looked pained and had a deep bruise on his left cheek, which made him look even more like a criminal. Her heart pounded furiously as she carefully stepped back toward the railing.
Perplexed by her fear, Roger studied Sophie, then Grant. Grant took a step forward, and Sophie inhaled sharply, her eyes growing wider.
“Sophie,” he pleaded.
“Stay away from me!”
Roger continued to stare back and forth between them. “What the fuck is wrong with you two?”
Seeing her so sickeningly scared of him made Grant want to run, to give her the sense of safety she desperately seemed to need, but he felt compelled to speak. He couldn’t help himself.
“Please, Sophie. I need to talk to you.”
“I have nothing to say to you,” she insisted. “Go run your con on some other woman.”
“It’s not a con,” he protested. “I had no idea what Logan did to you—I promise. I … I love you.”
“You lied to me!” she cried.
“I didn’t know what Lo did to you! How can I lie about something I know nothing about?”
“Stop playing games, Grant Barberi. You lied to me every time you pretended to be someone other than the son of Enzo Barberi. You lied to me every time you failed to admit you were the brother of Logan Barberi!”
Grant looked over to see Roger staring at him with an apparent new understanding, a look bordering between fascination and respect. Grant felt sick.
There was nothing he could say to refute her words, and he hung his head low. He felt utterly defeated, like a little boy who’d just been scolded. Sophie’s throat constricted, picturing him as an innocent four year old, beaten within an inch of his life. She had to look away, drawing her hand to her mouth to stifle a cry.
Grant noticed her distress and fought the urge to scoop her into his arms. She would never let him hold her now. How had this all gone so wrong?
Sophie backed up another step, and it was obvious she was about to flee. She delivered her last words in a seething tone, masking the tears in her voice. “I don’t want anything to do with you and your family! Your brother ruined my life!”
She leaped from the ship, running as fast as her legs would carry her.
Heartbroken, Grant held his head in his hands. “He ruined my life too.”
She was gone.
30. CONsequence
Logan rubbed the sleep from his eyes as he made his way down the deserted warehouse-district street. It wasn’t the first time he’d slept outside on a bench by the lake, but for some reason it seemed he’d sunk to an all-time low. He was responsible for putting two people—the only two people he cared about besides his son—in prison. A man responsible for such pain certainly did not deserve the finer things in life, like a warm bed or fresh, laundered clothing.
Although undeserving of others’ help, he’d still reached out for some financial assistance with the hope of affording a warm bed tonight, maybe in a hotel room somewhere. He’d called the one man who could not refuse him: his godfather, Angelo. Although Angelo had not sounded pleased about shelling out even more money, Logan knew he couldn’t turn away his nephew and godson.
Entering their rendezvous point, an abandoned warehouse on the west side, Logan stopped short when he saw who was waiting for him. It was not the calm, grizzled patriarch of the Barberi family. Instead, it was his menacing, envious, black-haired son, flanked by two imposing Mafia thugs. Logan eyed his cousin Carlo and the muscled men standing at a respectful distance behind him.
&nb
sp; Logan nodded to the behemoth on Carlo’s left, who had somehow added to his bulk in prison. “Didn’t know you were out, Meat.”
Mario, known as “Meat” inside the family, simply grunted in return.
“And of course you know Tank,” Carlo said with a sugary smile, gesturing to the man on his right. Logan studied the six-foot-three, brown-haired bodybuilder Anthony Tanketti, whose eyes narrowed upon meeting his gaze.
Both remembered the incident three years ago. Angelo had ordered Logan to “take care of” Tank after he’d unknowingly attracted the FBI’s attention by falling in love with an undercover agent. Angelo had luckily discovered her true identity, and he’d commanded Carlo to kill the federal agent and Logan to rough up Tank. The feds had been on the Barberi family like sauce on spaghetti ever since, hoping to avenge the murder of their agent yet unable to prove the family had anything to do with her death.
Eyeing Tank’s transformation from lean to large, Logan surmised he’d decided to familiarize himself with the inside of a gym following such a humiliating beating. Tank crossed his arms in front of his substantial chest, smirking at Logan.
“Where’s Angelo?” Logan asked.
“He sent me instead,” Carlo replied, recalling their heated argument an hour ago. Carlo was incensed that Angelo overlooked Logan’s absence in the latest drug deal, and he’d become even more furious when he discovered his father was planning to loan some cash to his archrival. He’d used all his charm to persuade his father to let him take his place.
Maintaining his saccharine smile, Carlo added, “Angelo’s busy. You know, making money for the family? A concept that seems to be lost on you, cugino.”
Logan cleared his throat nervously. “Yeah, I couldn’t make it last night. I had someone I needed to see.”
Carefully studying his cousin’s bruised face, Carlo scoffed. “Apparently that someone kicked your ass.”
Logan wondered if he’d said too much. “So, is Angelo showing up or not?”
“Not,” Carlo said.
Trying to appear nonchalant, Logan said, “Well, I guess I’ll leave then.” His subtle step backward caused the human guard dogs to tense behind Carlo.
With Good Behavior [Conduct Series #1] Page 31