by Measha Stone
“In my bedroom, why?”
He didn’t answer, just marched off down the hall, grabbed the laptop and brought it back to the kitchen and sat at the table. She stood behind him as he logged into his Peapod account. He’d used the grocery delivery service plenty of times. He had a cleaning service for his condo, but he didn’t have a cook, and he understood how hard it was to get to the grocery store some weeks.
“What are you doing?”
“Going grocery shopping,” he said and pointed to her chair. “I’m going to give you my login, and once a week, I’d better see you put in an order for groceries. Real food. Fruit, veggies, snacks.”
“Your account? I’ll open my own.” She tried to take the laptop from him but he brushed her hands away.
He turned in his chair, cupping her chin and lifting it until she looked at him. “Little girls obey their daddy, don’t they? They do what they are told, even if it’s not what they want. Right?”
“This is different.” She tried to pull away but his grip was too tight.
“No. It’s not. If left up to you, you’d be eating Raman noodles and take out every night. You’ll use my account. What do good girls do when their daddy tells them to do something?”
He watched her throat constrict when she swallowed. “They listen.”
“That’s right. And when Daddy is taking care of you, what do you do?”
She took a deep breath. It wasn’t easy for her, this Q&A, but it was necessary.
“I let you.”
“That’s right. Now, I’m going to put an order in and it will be delivered tomorrow. I know you work during the day, so I’ll have them do a drop off. It’ll be here when you get home.”
“Can’t I put in the order?” She sounded a little pitiful. He brushed his lips across hers and released her chin.
“Nope. You can put in the next one. This one is going to be a little big. I want to be sure you have everything you need.”
She looked ready to argue, but she leaned back in the chair and turned her attention to the computer screen. “Can I at least get ice cream, Daddy?” she whispered with a pout when he clicked off the dairy tab.
Two days later Jamison was poring over projection reports and quotes from various builders and contractors. He hadn’t even started looking at the real estate proposals to buy out the buildings they would need to knock down to make room for his father’s grand hotel.
Since Carissa had questioned him about this mother, he found her drifting in and out of his mind. Maybe he should look her up.
Carissa had a good point. His father could very well have kept her away on purpose. Though he couldn’t think of any reason why his father would do that. Jamison had always seen himself as a bother to his father. One more thing to take care of—or rather, hire a staff member to take care of. He’d never shown interest in Jamison until after he graduated with his MBA and started moving into the business realm. Then Jamison had a purpose, and a man with purpose was held in high regard.
He’d often wondered as a child if his mother would have been proud of him. Would she have seen him as something more than his father did? But after years passed during which he heard not a word from her, and his father made it quite clear she had no interest in them, the idea she would find anything about him pleasing died away.
That idea brought him back to Carissa. She’d written off her parents. She didn’t hold on to them, trying to wedge herself into their lives and make them see what an awesome person she’d turned out to be. She didn’t need to; she already knew it herself. She didn’t need or look for their approval. Her confidence came from herself, from her own self-worth—she didn’t need it to come from anywhere outside of herself.
Which made it so much sweeter when she blushed at being called his good girl, or when she looked up at him to see if he approved.
Fuck. She was getting under his skin, more than he was prepared for. What if she walked away after the month was up? What if he couldn’t get her to understand they could make it long term, that he could be her daddy, her lover, her everything, if she would just let him in? He’d never hurt her, and he’d fucking lay out anyone who tried. He wouldn’t walk away like her father, and all the men her mother seemed to parade through her life.
“Mr. Croft, your father’s on his way in,” a hurried voice rang through the speaker of his phone just as his door bounded open.
“Father.” He sat back in his chair. “I’ve seen you more in the last week than I have in the last six months.” He could hear the sharpness of his tone and was sure Barron could, too. Though he doubted the man would address it. He looked to be on a mission again.
“You’re looking at the reports. Good.”
“Yes. Garrick and I are meeting over at the location this afternoon to take a look.”
“Good. Good.” Barron clapped his hands together.
“You could have just called.” Jamison steepled his hands over the reports.
“I’m heading over to have lunch with Victoria and I decided to stop in.”
“Victoria?”
“A woman I’m seeing. It’s not serious.” He waved a hand through the air. No woman was serious to his father. “I wanted to be sure you were still coming to dinner tomorrow?”
“Yes. We can talk about the project then.”
“Good. Good,” he said again, rubbing his hands.
“Are you going to tell me why this is so important? Why this sudden change in business, and so fast?”
Barron walked over to the windows behind Jamison’s desk and looked out at the city. “I’m getting older, Jamison. And I’ve realized all I’ve done my entire life is buy and sell, buy and sell. I haven’t left a real mark on anything. There’s nothing to leave behind that shows I was here.”
Jamison turned in his chair to get a better look at his father, hoping maybe he was joking. Nothing left behind? Could a son not be enough?
“You want to build this hotel because you want to leave your name on something when you die?” His jaw clenched.
“I want to leave my stamp, yes.” When Barron turned back to him, Jamison saw something—something he’d seen a thousand times in his father’s expression but always ignored. It was the coldness, the disconnection between the two of them. No matter if Jamison did this project with him, he’d never be seen as Barron’s mark on the world. He could own half the city—hell, all of the city—and his father would still not see him as an extension of himself. He’d still just be his son.
Barron Croft was all about himself. And nothing, no amount of success, would change that. Jamison had talked himself into believing he didn’t care about his father’s opinion, that he didn’t need his approval. But it had been just talking. Now, seeing the amount of joy his father took in thinking he was finally going to leave his stamp on the world with a fucking building, he realized he’d been lying to himself.
“Since you’re here, I have a question for you. It’s about Mother.”
Barron’s jaw clenched, but otherwise his expression remained passive. “What could you possibly want to know about that woman? She walked out on you, on us both.” Barron shook his head, but something felt off this time. He’d said the same thing over and over throughout the years—she’d walked out on them—but this time, Jamison noticed the shift of his gaze when he said it.
“Why? I mean… throughout the divorce, she never said anything?”
Barron cleared his throat. “We didn’t see each other through the divorce. I’ve told you that. She left, everything was done through attorneys. I never saw her. And she didn’t want any rights to you or visitations either.”
Well-rehearsed sentences. Jamison had taken them for gospel over the years, but the little hesitations, the tiny shift in his father’s stance now sent doubt barreling through him.
“Right.” Jamison took a deep breath. Barron wouldn’t be very forthcoming, and would opening old wounds really get them anywhere? How much good could it do Jamison as a grown man?
“Well, Garrick and I will have an answer for you at dinner.” Jamison stood from his chair and closed the folder. “I’m sure your lady friend is waiting for you.”
Barron Croft’s expression softened, as though he noticed the change in his son, but he didn’t say anything about it.
“Yes. She probably is.” Barron walked around the desk, not giving Jamison another glance. “I’ll see you tomorrow night then.”
His father walked out of the office, quietly closing the door behind him and leaving Jamison in the silence of his thoughts.
Being the son of a multi-millionaire was cliché in Jamison’s book. He’d spent most of his adult life trying to break out of that box. He didn’t play the party boy role most of the other sons seemed comfortable playing. Even Garrick had taken his turn in that role for a summer, but Jamison had never bothered with it.
Yet, there he stood on the corner of Wells and Walton, looking at a small block of businesses his father would have to purchase in order to build his tower. Acting the dutiful son didn’t fit him well either, it made his stomach turn. A family-owned grocery store, a boutique, and an unmarked building—his father would be putting them out of business.
“Jamison.” Garrick stepped out of a cab and up onto the curb with him. “Is this the block?” he asked, looking at the same sight.
“This is it.” Jamison nodded. He pulled the collar of his coat up to fend off the chilly air whirling around them. He’d spent most of the day in his office finishing several projects he’d been ignoring while trying to make a foundation with Carissa. This was his last stop before heading over to pick her up for the evening.
“It’s not a bad location,” Garrick said, looking around and stepping out of the way of a small group of women walking past them. “I mean, it’s within walking distance of Michigan Avenue, the El, and all the museums are pretty easy to get to from here. He picked a great spot, actually.”
“Yeah. I’ll agree with you there.” Jamison stuffed his hands in his pockets and watched as a young woman, no older than eighteen, struggling with a large over-stuffed bag and a baby bundled in blankets walked up the steps to the unnamed building.
“Those could be apartments. They might not want to sell.” He nodded toward the young girl who was barely able to ring the bell located on the side of the glass door.
“I’m sure your father will figure out a way,” Garrick stated with less admiration and more sarcasm.
“He’s obsessed with this project. His way of leaving his stamp on the city.”
Garrick gave him an incredulous look. “Barron Croft will never see anything past the nose on his face. He’s an idiot, Jamison.”
“Yeah. It’s not like you haven’t told me that before. But I guess it just took seeing him as the man he is instead of the man I desperately wanted him to be.”
“You gave him the benefit of the doubt all these years. But it’s good to see you finally realize that you’re doing just fine without his stamp.” Garrick shook his head. “Stamp on the world. A hotel will accomplish that?”
“Who knows. But you know, Carissa said something the other day that made me start thinking. She asked me why I believed my father’s story about my mom just leaving us. What if she didn’t? What if he kept her away?” Jamison had been thinking about that scenario more often than made him comfortable. He’d gotten over his mother’s abandonment years ago, but the idea that maybe she hadn’t done that, that maybe she had wanted him, started to resurface.
“Carissa was probably deflecting something you asked her about, right?”
They’d been talking about her family, and she had changed the topic a few times. “We were talking about our parents.”
“Her parents aren’t worthy of conversation.” Garrick’s tone hardened.
“You knew them?”
“No. I met Carissa through Jade, and not until they were in college. But I saw the mess her mother made of her, the mess her father had put her in.”
“She said her father was somewhere in Texas.” Had she been lying to him, hiding things from him?
“He probably was or is. That asshole caused all sorts of trouble for her when he lived here. Always trying to use her to get some sort of government aid. Tried to claim he was a single dad. Once, he snatched her from her mom and kept her for a month, trying to get housing or some shit like that. When it didn’t work, because Carissa let it slip that she lived with her mom, he dropped her off on the corner of her street and drove off. From what I could tell, that was the last time she saw him. He called a lot, looking for money, though.”
“And her mom? Carissa made it sound like she had a bit of a revolving door for men.”
Garrick laughed. “Yeah. Gail is like that. Meets a guy, moves in with him right away, breaks up and starts over. Just her way. She’s never done much good for Carissa, but at least she never tried to use her or hurt her.”
“No wonder the woman doesn’t think a relationship is possible. She’s never fucking seen one.”
“I told you. Black and white, that’s just how she thinks.”
“You know, you sound very much like a big brother. You aren’t going to give me trouble about her, are you?” Jamison and Garrick had never argued about women, or really discussed them much in the past, but now that they both found themselves with people important to them, their relationship had somehow changed.
Garrick laughed. “Fuck, no. From what Jade said, you’re just what that little brat needs. And besides, she helped me get Jade’s head on straight when I needed her help. I’m pulling for you to win this little battle. Jade also told me about the expiration date.”
“You shouldn’t let your girl gossip.” Jamison tried to sound firm, but weren’t they doing that exact thing?
“It’s not gossip when it’s true.” Garrick pulled the collar of his jacket up around his throat. “Don’t look at me like that. Those are her words, not mine.”
“You’re getting soft.”
Garrick shrugged. “You’re still coming over tonight, right? Jade hasn’t seen much of Carissa since you two started seeing each other, and she asked me at least a million times this morning to make sure you let her come over.”
“A million?” Jamison quirked an eyebrow.
“You know what I mean, she’s like a dog with a bone when it comes to Carissa, and she swears you’re keeping her locked up somewhere.”
“I assure you, as much as I’d love to have her locked up anywhere, that’s not the case. She’s been working insane hours and volunteering. Don’t they see each other at work?”
“Different shifts this week.” Garrick waved down a cab. “It’s cold as fuck out here. I’m heading home. Jade is probably already cooking.”
“I’m on my way to Carissa’s. I doubt she even ate today, let alone cooked anything,” Jamison said. The shipment of groceries had been delivered the day before, but he wasn’t positive she’d done anything with them except put them away. She’d grumbled the entire time they’d talked on the phone that night about how many groceries he’d ordered and how she was never going to be able to eat it all.
Garrick laughed, opening the door to the cab that pulled up in front of them. “Not like you to be so gentle with your women. Guess she’s got her hooks in you.”
“Guess yours does, too. Make sure you tell Jade you’ve relayed her message, and I will bring her friend to her with no delays.”
Garrick’s expression darkened. “Now I’ll have to make sure she can’t sit for dinner, just to repair the injury you’ve just inflicted on my manhood.”
Jamison let out a burst of laughter. “Like you weren’t already going to do that anyway!”
Garrick flashed a smile and got into the cab. “True enough. But she’s never uttered a word of complaint so far, I don’t see that changing this afternoon!” He closed the door, and the cab drove off.
Chapter 10
“Who knew you could actually cook?” Carissa leaned against the counter next t
o Jade, who was chopping lettuce.
“I’ve cooked before.” Jade shot her a nonplussed look and scooped the lettuce into two hands, dumping it into the bamboo salad bowl.
“Yes, I believe I’ve enjoyed such entrees as macaroni and cheese—the powder variety, and hamburger helper, which you substituted with ground turkey. Such a culinary success you’ve been.”
Jade laughed and placed a ripe tomato on the cutting board. “Okay, so I don’t usually cook, but it’s not that hard. We’re just having spaghetti and salad.”
“That’s my Jade.” Carissa laughed and walked over to the wine rack. She’d give almost anything to have a glass of pinot with dinner, but she wasn’t sure Jamison would allow it. He hadn’t said she couldn’t have any wine ever, he had just said that one night she couldn’t. And they had been heading into the playroom, so that made perfect sense. This was just dinner with friends.
“Grab a bottle, I’ll have a glass, too,” Jade said.
Did she need to ask? He hadn’t given her any actual rules about alcohol, and he had said going out with her friends for a glass of wine or two was fine with him.
Feeling safe, she grabbed a bottle of pinot and shuffled around for the wine opener.
“What are you looking for?” Garrick stepped up behind her, startling her.
Carissa took a deep breath and waited for her heart to stop pounding. “Your wine opener, you big ninja.”
Garrick laughed and took the bottle from her hands. “Here, I’ll open it for you girls.”
Jamison walked in sporting a curious expression, moving his gaze to the wine rack.
“Garrick’s opening us a bottle of wine,” she stated, studying his expression. She wished she’d asked him before they’d left her apartment if there was some rule about alcohol or treats. Did she have to ask, wait for him to offer?
He moved closer, brushing his lips across her forehead. “Only one glass tonight.” He tweaked her earlobe.
“Dinner’s just about done.” Jade wiped her hands on a dish towel and nodded toward the salad bowl. “Just need to add some dressing.”