Misconduct (25 page)

She kept wanting me to react, to say something or tell her what I was feeling and how she could help, and all I remembered was feeling uncomfortable, like the walls were closing in.

So my father took me into his den, and we played pool. After a while, we started to talk, and by the end of the night, I’d let it all out. My anger and my sadness… how she couldn’t die and how much I loved her.

In that respect, I knew my son. Forcing him to sit down and bare whatever was in his head would be just as uncomfortable for him as it would be for me.

We needed to be moving and doing something. We needed to have an activity together without the pressure of conversation. The communication would eventually come.

I started off, taking the first shot, the fourteen in the corner pocket and then the twelve, but missing.

Christian pocketed the one and then the six. I was pleasantly surprised and relieved. He wouldn’t want me trying to teach him how to play right now, so I was glad he could hold his own.

Moving around the table, he shot the four but missed the two.

We took turns, and he won the first game. When I asked him if he wanted to play another, he simply nodded and stood silently by as I racked the balls again.

“I know why you’re mad at me,” I started after he took the first shot.

“You don’t know anything,” he threw back, taking the next shot and missing. And then standing back upright, he scowled at me. “Why do you even care all of a sudden?”

I bowed down to the table, aiming for the nine. “I always cared.”

“You have a crap way of showing it,” he shot out.

I pocketed the shot and moved around the table to take aim at the eleven. “You’re right.”

I’d helped support him, and I’d wanted to do good by him, but he was ultimately right. I couldn’t argue that, and I didn’t want to.

It was his turn to shoot, but he didn’t budge. “It was kinda fun tonight, you know? We could’ve had that all the time. Why were you never around?”

I forced myself to meet his eyes. “I was a dumb kid, Christian. I didn’t want to care about anyone but myself. And then later, I didn’t want to fail, so I didn’t even try.”

“You still failed.”

“No. I just haven’t done it right yet,” I replied, a small smile playing on my lips.

He rolled his eyes, but he wasn’t leaving.

I wanted to be a man Christian could look up to. I wanted to show him that mistakes can be made but so can amends. I would never not look him in the eye again, and I would never let him think he wasn’t wanted.

“I’m not asking you to forgive me or act like the past fourteen years didn’t happen,” I told him.

He pinned me with stern eyes. “Then what do you want?”

For a moment I blinked long and hard, hating that question. I knew exactly what I wanted, but I feared there would come a day when I had to admit I couldn’t have all of it.

But he was first. He always had to be first. Before anything or anyone.

He may not want me as a father, and he may never forgive me, but what I had right here, right now, I had to keep.

I looked at him and spoke gently. “I want to play pool.”

P
atrick held the door to the Range Rover open for me, and I climbed inside, adjusting the short dress Tyler had sent to me this morning.

But then I shot out my hand, pressing against the door to keep it from closing. “Wait, please.”

Stepping back down out of the car, I jetted up the stairs to my apartment and twisted the doorknob, pushing at the door to check its security. Inserting each of my keys into the three separate dead bolts, I double-checked to make sure they were all locked.

I’d come home from school yesterday to find an upstairs window open, and I’d been running through the house all day, doing my Saturday cleaning and checking the rooms two or three times to make sure everything was in its place. Pillows sitting two to a corner on the couch, cabinet contents in alphabetical order, shoestrings tucked neatly inside my tennis shoes.

Maybe I’d left the window open. We’d had a nice evening after I got home from Sucré with Tyler and Christian. Maybe I’d opened it.

But no, I wouldn’t have left it open while I slept.

I climbed back in the car, Patrick shutting the door behind me and walking around the back to the driver’s door.

I rubbed my hand over my heart and took some deep breaths. The fact was, I’d gotten careless. My head was either on school and my work or it was consumed with Tyler. The flirty text he’d sent me or the glimpse I’d caught of him picking up Christian at school… I was constantly distracted, and I may very well have left the window and cabinets open.

But it still didn’t make sense. Returning things to their place, taking a last glance around a room before I left to make sure nothing was out of order – these habits were second nature to me. I did them without having to think about it.

Could someone have been in my house?

Fear gripped me, thinking about all those years ago, when very much the same thing had happened.

It wasn’t possible.

I forced myself to sit back in the seat and smooth my hand down my dress, willing the worried expression off my face as I relaxed my muscles.

No. Everything was fine.

I looked down at the dress that hugged my thighs, concentrating on how good it felt, and tried to be excited for the evening ahead.

I didn’t often dress up for nights out, and the outfit was like a second skin. I was surprised Tyler knew my size.

But of course he knew my body.

This morning Patrick had delivered a box with the dress and a note saying he’d have Patrick pick me up at ten. I’d been annoyed on several levels. For one, he didn’t ask; he directed. And second, he had bought me an outfit to wear.

The dress was black, long-sleeved, short and tight. It also featured goldlike jewels around the neck and on the straps running vertically down my naked back. I’d pulled my hair up in a sexy bun, and even though the dress was provocative, it wasn’t distasteful.

After realizing that this meant he was taking me out, I gave in and kept the dress, telling Patrick I’d see him at ten. Which gave me plenty of time to finish tidying up the apartment, run errands, and work out before I had to get ready.

I held the clutch purse in my lap and looked to Patrick, who was making his way toward the French Quarter.

“Where are you taking me?” I asked, knowing Tyler wouldn’t have had me get dressed up to go to his house.

“Veil,” he answered over his shoulder.

Veil?
 

I’d heard of it, but it was the high end’s version of a high-end club.
Tyler is taking me to a nightclub?

I bit back my smile, having a hard time picturing it. Not that he gave off the vibe of being a drip, but – okay, yes, he did.

But that’s one of the things I liked about him. I couldn’t claim to know him all that well, but I could guess that there were ten other things he’d rather be doing than spending time in a club. There was only one place he let himself relax, and that was usually wherever he could get me alone.

“Will Tyler be waiting there?” I inquired.

I could only see the side of Patrick’s face as he spoke, as he kept his eyes on the road. “He got stuck on a conference call overseas, but he shouldn’t be too long,” he explained. “He asked that I take you inside and stay with you until he gets there.”

“No need,” I assured him. “I can take care of myself.”

“Sorry, miss.” I could hear the smile in his voice. “Those are the orders.”

I sat back and stared out the window, letting it go. I wouldn’t be able to convince Tyler I didn’t need protection, because I’d learned karate moves on YouTube. Yeah, right.

After Patrick navigated through the Quarter, slowing for the pedestrians and tourists constantly in the streets, we stopped on Toulouse Street, in front of a large black building with wide windows on the second and third floors. Neon blue and pink light flooded through them, and I noticed a barely visible sign on the front of the building next to the door that read
V
EIL
. It was etched onto a plaque in black and then mounted into the black brick of the establishment, making it anything but obvious. Which I guess would account for its name.

I knew the club was members only, but obviously Tyler could invite guests.

Patrick handed the keys to the valet and circled the car to open my door. I took his hand, stepping out and tucking my small handbag under my arm.

The doorman opened the door and Patrick let me go first. I entered the arcane darkness with him following closely behind.

I stepped slowly, taking in my surroundings, because who knew when I’d ever get to see a private club again.

It was like stepping into a different world.

Of course, everything in New Orleans was old, aged, decrepit, and ruined, but walking past those doors, my eyes widened, and I felt like I’d left the city and entered some secret world hidden right under our noses.

Not that I didn’t like what made this city, but it was a nice surprise to see something so out of place and new-looking.

It was dim but not dark once we entered, and as I walked over the slate marble floors, I suddenly realized why Tyler had bought me the dress. With the way everyone looked here, I certainly fit in.

The men wore sleek, dark suits, some with ties and some without, while the ladies wore tight dresses that showed off bodies they presumably paid for with three Spinning classes a week. I didn’t like the idea of Tyler dressing me up to be like them, but he would’ve known the club had a dress code.

The long bar curved down the wall, looking like a white wave, and the walls were an architect’s dream. Curving in and out in a cubed, geometric pattern, it made you feel not only as though you were in another world but another time. It was sleek, chic, and most of all, expensive-looking.

The massive oval-shaped columns in the middle of the room had to be four feet wide and were made of glass and filled with water that gave off a purple glow from a light hidden somewhere in the tanks.

I sat down at the bar and patted the seat next to me, urging Patrick to join me. He was always so quiet, and it felt awkward having him stand behind me like a bodyguard.

I ordered a gin and tonic, while Patrick settled for a Coke and insisted on paying for mine as well.

“Why does Tyler employ you?” I asked, twirling my straw around my drink. “Does he really need a driver?”

Tyler was very self-sufficient, but I wondered why he felt the need to be chauffeured most places.

“He says it saves time,” Patrick answered, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he took a drink. “He can get work done in the car while I drive.”

I curled my lips in a smile, thinking that made perfect sense for Tyler.

I spoke as quietly as I could over the beat from the speakers. “Do you think he’ll make a good senator?” I broached.

“Of course.” He answered quickly, his face never faltering as he smoothed his blond hair back over the top of his head.

“Is that a paid answer?” I challenged, and immediately regretted it.

His eyes narrowed on his drink, and he cocked his head to look at me.

He knew Tyler. Probably better than I did. His loyalty wouldn’t allow him to betray his employer even if it was a paid answer.

We sat silently for a few moments, and I felt like I should apologize, but then he spoke up.

“I’ve driven him around for more than five years,” he told me, his hazel eyes locked on mine. “Do you know how many calls he’s made, deals he’s negotiated, and people he’s spoken to during those drives when he thought I wasn’t listening?” he asked rhetorically.

“Being invisible has its perks.” He went on, crossing his arms over his chest. “I’ve gotten to see all the arguments he’s had with his father, with his brother… when they try to mold him into something he doesn’t want to be.”

He chewed the corner of his mouth, looking like he was thinking. I waited and listened.

“I’ve seen the frustration on his face when he worries about his kid,” he continued. “I’ve seen how he responds to women, and I know when one means more than all the others.” He paused, staring at me, his insinuation clear.

He took a deep breath. “I’ve had the privilege of seeing him more closely than probably anyone else, and I can tell you, his character isn’t just for the camera,” he disclosed. “Yes, I do think he would make a great senator.”

“Patrick.” A deep voice cut through the room, and we both jerked around to see Tyler standing behind us.

Patrick hopped off the bar chair and tucked it in. “Sir.”

Tyler’s eyes darted from him to me and then back to him, and I knew he’d heard at least part of what we’d been talking about.

“Thank you.” He nodded at Patrick, but he looked and sounded curt. “I have my car, so you’re done. Have a good night.”

And Patrick left without another word, leaving me in Tyler’s hands.

I decided not to feel bad about plying Patrick with questions. Tyler Googled me, after all.

I tilted my head and took in his appearance, surprised to see a difference. He wore a coal-black suit with a black shirt open at the collar and no tie. His short black hair shined in the light, and for some reason he looked younger than he usually did. Maybe it was the surroundings.

“You wore it.” He let his eyes fall down my body as he commented on the dress.

I stood up, grabbing my bag and my drink. “You sound surprised.”

He smirked, leading me away. “With you, always,” he joked.

With a hand on my lower back, he guided me toward the elevator.

The doors opened, and we stepped inside. As soon as he pressed the button for three, the doors closed, and he hooked an arm around my waist, pulling me in.

“Hey,” he whispered and then captured my lips, completely taking me over. His soft lips were gentle but fast and playful. He dipped in, nibbling and kissing, and then cocked his head the other way, going back for more as he grabbed my ass in both hands.

My knees buckled, and thank goodness his arms were wrapped around me, holding me up.

“You look beautiful.” He spoke in a husky voice, pinching my chin between his thumb and fingers.

He kissed me one last time, then let me go just as the doors opened, and I clutched his arm, feeling like my muscles had turned to Jell-O.

A host stood outside the elevator and smiled as soon as he saw us.

“Mr. Marek,” he greeted, bowing his head just a bit. “Right this way.”

He led us through a spacious lounge, complete with a small dance floor and several square arrangements of sofas, sparsely filled. The third floor of Veil was much like the first floor, but what was white downstairs was black upstairs, which made the ambience darker and more cavelike.

The water-tank columns glowed purple and the black curved bar had an array of different bottles along the wall, each glowing with the light built into the backsplash. Several semiprivate booths lined the perimeter of the room, and it appeared right away that guests in here were on a different plane from what I was used to. Nearly all of the men had young, beautiful women with them, and champagne was everywhere. The chandeliers glittered in the dim light, and I had the strangest feeling of being in a dream.

“Marek,” a man’s voice called, and we both stopped, turning around.

A gentleman, about the same age as Tyler, approached him with a smile and shook his hand. “How are you? Haven’t seen you around in a while.”

Tyler rolled his eyes. “Busy as usual. What do you think?”

He quirked a smile at me and placed his hand on my back again. “This is Easton Bradbury,” he told the man, and I felt a momentary shock that he’d introduced me so freely.

“Easton?” Tyler said. “This is James Guillory.”

I shook the man’s hand, narrowing my eyes as realization dawned. “As in oil?” I asked, shocked again.

The Guillorys owned half the oil rigs in the Gulf.

He winked at me, clearly interested in neither confirming nor denying it.

He slapped Tyler on the arm. “Keep in touch,” he told him, and walked back to his table, packed with his buddies and their ladies.

Tyler led me to where the host had stopped and let me slide into the booth first. Our table was set in a semiprivate space with drapes on both sides, a three-sided couch, and a low glass table, making it easy to get up and move around.

Tyler sat down, ordered some champagne and began to relax, resting his elbows on the back of the sofa.

“So this is where the millionaires come to play with their secrets?” I looked around at the heavy flow of liquor and the pretty women who probably weren’t their wives.

But Tyler had a different take on it. “It’s where men and women who lead very controlled lives come to lose control,” he clarified, looking around the room. “Everyone here is in the same position, Easton. They want to cut loose once in a while like everyone else, but someone is always watching.”

And then he locked his eyes on mine. “This is one place where no one cares. We all have something to lose, so privacy is respected.”

“I hope,” I added with a smirk.

No one knew who Easton Bradbury the schoolteacher was, so I was grateful he’d brought me here. I was tired of quiet, secluded dinners and catching stolen moments whenever we could. It was fun to be out with him in public and in plain sight.