Forbidden Promises

by Synithia Williams

  “No need to run off,” Grant said. He took Patricia’s hand in his, a deliberate movement, and came farther into the room.

  She wasn’t running off. She just didn’t like being in the same room as her dad and the woman he’d betrayed his wife with. “I’ve got to get ready. I’m going out with Russell tonight.”

  She’d called him after leaving the art museum. They’d agreed to meet for dinner. Just as friends. He still had the connection to his ex, and India had enough baggage to deal with, wanting her brother-in-law and all. But she enjoyed his company and she preferred going out for dinner instead of staying in.

  Patricia’s brows rose. “Oh good. He told me you two were hitting it off.”

  India cocked her head to the side. Why would Russell tell Patricia that? “Really? I didn’t realize you two know each other.”

  “He’s my nephew,” Patricia said.

  India’s gaze snapped to her dad. Grant straightened his shoulders.

  “Her nephew?” India’s voice was a sharp whip of accusation.

  He’d set her up with his mistress’s nephew? In what world was that a good idea? India had barely been able to forgive him and accept that he wouldn’t give Patricia up. How could her dad possibly believe she’d want to be more deeply involved with Patricia’s family? Just because Byron and Elaina had gotten used to Patricia in the time India had been away didn’t mean India wanted to be closer to her and pretend as if they could one day be on good terms.

  “Another way for our families to grow closer,” Grant said easily. “Especially now that our families will be truly connected.” Grant’s voice was calm. Too calm. The way it got when he was about to lay down a law he expected to be followed with no arguments.

  Truly connected? India’s eyes dropped to their joined hands. A new, sparkly engagement ring reflected the light from the third finger on Patricia’s left hand. Her mouth went dry.

  “You’re engaged.” Her voice was flat, emotionless.

  Her father smiled. Patricia lifted her hand so India could see the ring.

  “We aren’t going to announce it until later. We don’t want to take anything away from your brother,” Patricia said the words as if they were being so considerate. Making sure they didn’t cause any undo harm with Byron’s campaign.

  “How could you do this?” India asked her dad.

  Grant’s calm expression morphed into one of cold resolve. “Patricia, do you mind giving my daughter and me a second to talk?”

  Patricia looked between the two of them. She nodded and slipped back out the door. India and Grant stared at each other. India tried to get a handle on the hurt and betrayal reeling within her. She wanted to scream, kick something and demand that her father change his mind. The anger didn’t surprise her as much as the tightening of her throat. The burn of tears she would not allow to fall. Her mom would never come back, and he’d chosen to blatantly put Patricia in her mother’s place.

  “I thought you’d be happy for me,” Grant said as if he were the one hurt.

  Happy for him? She’d been able to tolerate Patricia in his life, but to actually make the woman her stepmother? “Why?”

  “Do you want me to be alone for the rest of my life?” His face hardened even when his voice remained calm and condescending.

  Anger rushed through her like a gale force wind. He was not about to make her the villain in this situation. “I’d be happy if you chose anyone else. Not her.” She pointed at the door.

  “I’ve always loved Patricia.”

  “Love? You’re going to use that?” India said with a caustic laugh. “Was it love that made you go to her arms when mom was dying of cancer and you were supposed to be taking care of her? Did love take you to Patricia’s house the night of mom’s funeral instead of staying home with me, Elaina and Byron?”

  He had the nerve to nod. “It did.”

  “That’s bullshit, Dad.” Her voice cracked. The pain of that memory like a fresh burn to her heart.

  He walked forward. “Don’t you ever talk to me like that. I know you’ve longed to hold this grudge against Patricia out of a sense of loyalty to your mom, but your mother knew about Patricia.” Frustration entered his voice as he spoke words she assumed he thought made the situation acceptable.

  “Is that supposed to make this better? Easier?” she said between clenched teeth. Her muscles vibrated with the heightened emotions pulsing through her veins.

  “It’s supposed to make you understand things aren’t as simple as you want to make them,” he shot back. “I loved your mom. I took care of her. I made sure she had everything she needed. I mourned when she died. I’ve always done what I needed to do to keep our family legacy strong. But sometimes love isn’t enough.”

  He turned and paced toward one of the windows, his body tense. “Love changes and turns into something different. Enough time has passed. I’ve respected your mother’s memory and your wishes long enough.” When he spun back to her, there was no apology in his eyes, only resolve. “Now I’m doing what I’ve wanted to for too long. You kids are old enough to accept that, even if you’re not happy about it.”

  “Do we get the same consideration?” Would the man who preached God, family and company accept it if his children did what they wanted? Would he give his blessing without forcing them to give in to the needs of the family?

  “As long as your decisions don’t go against the goals of the family or our company,” he replied. “No matter what you think about Patricia, our relationship won’t cause a rift in the family we can’t recover from.”

  “Really? I won’t step foot in this house again if you marry her.” India walked past her dad toward the door.

  “You will step foot in this house and you’ll pretend as if you’re deliriously happy about me and Patricia.”

  She spun back to face him. “You can’t tell me how to feel.”

  “But I can remind you where your ultimate loyalties should lie.” The sharp preciseness in his words sent a shiver of warning down her spine.

  “Excuse me?”

  He walked slowly toward her. The anger and hurt in his eyes were the only outward clue she’d pissed him off. Otherwise his shoulders were relaxed, his stroll leisurely and his voice calm. His fuck-with-me-if-you-want-to swagger in place, the one that said if you crossed the line, he would cut you hard and deep.

  “You don’t get to be emotional when it comes to being a part of this family,” Grant said with a cold smile. “I’ve given you leeway and let you have your rebellions, but at the end of the day, the most important thing is keeping our family together. Like it or not, your loyalty to the family isn’t something you can just toss aside. That’s not why your grandfather fought so hard to keep our family together and the business strong. It’s not why I fought just as hard to give you, Byron and Elaina everything you need to succeed in this life. Are you really willing to turn your back on everything he fought for?” He didn’t yell, but his voice had risen, vibrated and rang with disappointment.

  Memories rose of her grandfather and the pride in his voice when he’d talked about the tobacco farm his own father started. The fierce determination in his face as he made India, Elaina and Byron promise to always put their family’s legacy first.

  Survival of our family and what we built is more important than anything else we may want.

  Her grandfather’s words rang through her head. Their grandfather had given up the woman he’d loved and married someone else to bring in the money needed to build Robidoux Tobacco. He’d encouraged their dad to date their mom because of her family’s connections in retail. He’d even sued his uncle and won when he’d tried to take half of the company. Doing what was best for the family always took precedence over anything else.

  She loved her family. Even her dad, despite his faults, but she wasn’t sure she could stick around and accept this.

&n
bsp; “I’m here for Byron and I’ll be the perfect daughter and sister when it counts for him.” She lifted her chin and hardened her voice after it wavered. The tears she’d held back burned like acid. “But I can’t get over you and Patricia.”

  Pain flickered across Grant’s expression before he shrugged and nodded stiffly. “You don’t have to get over it. You just have to accept it.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  TRAVIS SKIPPED UP the stairs to the front door of the Robidoux estate and rang the bell. He and Byron had made plans earlier to grab a beer. They needed a night out after a long week, at least Travis sure as hell did. Jury deliberations had twisted him inside out. He’d agreed to meet Byron at his family’s estate because Byron said he would be there this evening. Travis agreed, even though he’d been avoiding the place ever since that moment with India at the museum.

  Grant’s warning to stay away from India was very clear in his head. Grant had done a lot for Travis. More than his own dad in some cases.

  Despite that, he no longer had a say in what Travis did. A part of him wanted to tell Grant to go to hell and tell India exactly how he felt about her. As much as his former father-in-law’s meddling ways jabbed into Travis like a rusty nail, he hadn’t told any lies. Dating India might make Travis happy, but his happiness wasn’t the only thing at stake.

  The door swung open and the main reason Travis shouldn’t touch India stood on the other side. The surprise on Elaina’s face probably mirrored his own. He’d expected their lead housekeeper, Sandra, to answer the door. Just like fate to step in to remind him of the consequences of going through with his actions.

  “What are you doing here?” Elaina asked in an unwelcoming voice.

  Like putting on a heavy winter coat, he braced himself for her cold treatment. They hadn’t always been this cold. He and Elaina had been the poster children for a young-adult, hormone-influenced, good-girl-bad-boy love affair. She was beautiful, and when he’d first met her at seventeen, his body had reacted but he’d never thought he’d have a shot. Until one day she caught him in the laundry room, slid her hand across his dick and dared him to show her if the rumors about sex with him were true.

  Until then he hadn’t known there were rumors about him, or that Elaina was interested, but his hormone-influenced brain hadn’t thought to ask questions. That was the start of their not-quite-clandestine affair. Marriage, a miscarriage and maturity quickly showed them that hot and heavy teenage affection didn’t always sustain a marriage.

  Now he met Elaina’s eyes and wondered what he could have done differently. If he’d really tried hard enough to make her happy or if they’d always been doomed. “I’m meeting Byron.”

  She crossed her arms over her chest. “He’s not here.”

  Travis checked his watch. He was ten minutes earlier than when he and Byron planned to meet. Usually with Byron, ten minutes early meant on time. He pulled out his cell phone to check for any missed calls or messages but there were none.

  “I’m meeting him at six.” Travis slid his phone back into his pocket and met Elaina’s gaze. She always managed to look at him as if he were wasting her time. Like he’d purposefully rang the doorbell as she walked by just to force her to answer for him. “He said he’d be here already.”

  “Obviously, he was mistaken.” Elaina eyed him impatiently.

  Sometimes he still couldn’t believe this was their new normal. They’d been pushed into their young marriage, but even then, their relationship hadn’t been terrible.

  Maybe he’d been foolish to think they could have turned physical attraction into a lasting relationship. They’d tried to put up a front of happy and in-love newlyweds. Then the miscarriage happened two weeks after the wedding. In one painful night, the entire reason they’d agreed to the marriage was gone. He’d been devastated by the loss. Elaina had been angry. An anger that had morphed into the cool indifference she wrapped herself in that eventually carved a canyon between them.

  A breeze brushed the back of his neck. Travis shifted on the porch. “Can I come in and wait for him?”

  She sighed as if he’d asked her to help him change a tire on a monster truck, but she backed up so he could enter.

  Travis crossed the threshold and closed the door. “Elaina, we can be friends. At least during the election.”

  Her arms remained crossed as she watched him with a bland expression. “How do you suggest we do that?”

  “I don’t know, maybe the way other people are friendly? Talk and ask each other about our days. We didn’t divorce on bad terms.”

  Their divorce talk had probably been the easiest in the history of divorces. Both of them lying in bed staring at the ceiling after another tedious Friday night dinner with Grant and one of his business partners neither wanted to attend. She’d said, “Maybe we should get a divorce.”

  His reply: “Maybe we should.”

  The next day, he’d gotten a call from her lawyer to start the proceedings.

  She cocked a brow and took a step forward until only a few inches separated them. “Talking isn’t what we were good at.” Her voice lowered to the low, suggestive tone that used to make his young-adult heart jump and his dick stiffen.

  Travis stepped backward. “Let’s not go there.” He didn’t want to relive the night when Elaina’s indifference had turned into resentment.

  “I forgot. You’re having fun with Camille now,” she said sarcastically.

  “Even if I weren’t, we can’t go back.”

  “Oh, that’s right. You’re noble now.” She made air quotes with her fingers. Derision crept into her voice. That, and hurt. Though he’d never been able to truly tell if Elaina was hurt.

  Travis regretted to this day almost sleeping with Elaina after their divorce. His grandmother had died. Surprisingly, when Elaina heard, she’d come to his house. Grief, bourbon and months without sex almost made him accept what she offered. That’s what happens when the wrong head takes charge. He’d sent her away. Not willing to start something he knew would be a bad decision in the glaring light of day.

  “That was almost two years ago. We were both—”

  “Not thinking straight,” she cut in. “Yeah, I’ve heard.”

  Sending her away had been so hard. Sex had never been a problem for them, and even though he didn’t regret saying no, he’d considered the pros and cons of his decision long into that night. Sleeping with Elaina would have made everything worse. Would have blurred lines they’d both agreed to. That night was why he’d kept his dating life secret for so long. She never came back to him again, but he didn’t know if that night was her expressing regret for the divorce or just her showing affection in the only way she ever had with him...through sex.

  “Save your friendship, Travis,” Elaina said in a bored voice. “I don’t want it.” She turned away and left him standing in the hall.

  “Elaina,” he called.

  She flicked her wrist dismissively and disappeared around a corner. Travis pinched the bridge of his nose. He tapped his foot several times instead of screaming in frustration. Would there ever come a time when he and Elaina could be in the same room?

  Travis checked his watch. If Byron didn’t show up in the next fifteen minutes, he was leaving. He was not risking the chance of running into Elaina again and going another round with her. He pulled out his cell and texted Byron to see where he was. A second later he got the return text. Five minutes away.

  Travis headed in the opposite direction from Elaina to reduce his chances of running into her again. He wandered toward the back of the house instead of going to the upstairs family room. He wasn’t feeling running into Grant either. He could hide out in the back sunroom or on the lanai until Byron got there and was ready to go.

  The faint sounds of violin music stopped him.

  His feet changed direction and instinctively followed the music. How many tim
es when he was younger had he gone to the music room after a stressful or frustrating encounter with his family, Grant or Elaina? Lured by the sound of something smooth and soothing like a balm to his hollowed emotions. He stopped at the door and watched India.

  He didn’t recognize the song she played. The music was a strong, fluid sound laced with an edge of anger and passion. Her eyes were closed, a line between her brows as she focused on the intricate pattern of notes. She’d been a great player before leaving with the orchestra, and now she was outstanding. The complicated and intense execution of the music fascinated him.

  Something was bothering her. She lost herself in music and practiced daily, but he could feel the deeper need in her to express what she couldn’t say. The idea of something, someone, putting her in a mood caused a restless energy to bubble inside him. The need to fix whatever obstacle stood in her way turned him over like a plow in the tobacco fields.

  India finished with a flair. Her body stilled as the last notes echoed in the room. Slowly her arm lowered, her shoulders slumped, and she let out a deep sigh. She was both utterly beautiful and deeply sad.

  Travis’s chest ached. He’d stopped breathing. He slowly drew in a breath as the memory of the sad notes lingered in his mind.

  “You play that perfectly,” he said in a quiet voice.

  She didn’t jump, which told him she’d known he was there. How did she always sense when he was in a room? Was she just as aware of him as he was of her?

  “I’ve had a lot of practice.” She leaned over to set the violin in the open case next to her chair.

  He approached her slowly instead of walking away as he should. “What’s got you riled up?”

  She snapped closed the violin case with a frustrated huff. “Two guesses.”

  Travis grabbed the black folding chair next to the music stand, flipped it backward and straddled it. “What did he do?” Only her dad had the ability to really anger her.

  “He’s marrying Patricia.” She finally looked at him. Her eyes narrowed. “You knew?”