Young At Heart (15 page)

The food arrived and they began to eat, although Devon could see Jesse was miserable. He pushed his food around his plate and ate very little, the brief spark of fight Devon had seen in him before dimming, and then dying altogether beneath Erica's glacial stare.

Setting his knife and fork down on the edge of his plate, Devon reached across the table and squeezed Jesse's hand. Lost in his own thoughts, Jesse jumped at his touch, and then relaxed back into his chair with a faint smile.

“I don't think we'll stay for dessert, Mother,” Devon said, his eyes fixed firmly on Jesse. “I need to get Jesse home.”

“Well, I suppose it is past his bedtime,” Erica retorted, without looking up from her meal.

“And remarks like that are the reason we're leaving,” he told her. “Honestly, Mother, why ask us here if all you wanted to do was prove how unpleasant you can be?”

“As I believe I mentioned earlier, dear, I have concerns about the way you are running the company. Concerns that need addressing.”

“Couldn't we have done that at the office? Whatever concerns you have, they are nothing to do with Jesse.”

“That's where you would be wrong,” Erica said sweetly. “It has everything to do with Jesse, because as long as you are with him, I have no faith in your judgment. I may not be able to tell you what to do in your personal life, but I still have a say in the business. It's my company, Devon, and if
he
stays then
you
go. I trust I am making myself perfectly clear.”

“You can't do that!”

“I think you'll find I can. This is not open to negotiation, dear. Take tonight to think about it. I will expect your answer first thing in the morning. If you choose to stay with the boy, I will take it as your resignation. If, however, you make the sensible choice and stay with the company, I expect him to disappear—for good.”

“I will not be blackmailed this way!”

“Fine. Then how about you?” Erica switched her attention to Jesse. “I'll write you a cheque here and now. Name your price. How much will it take to make you go away?”

“I don't want your money.”

“Of course you do, dear. Why else would a gold-digging little bastard like you be interested in my son?”

“I love him,” Jesse said quietly, reaching across the table and taking Devon's hand. “I don't need his money. I'm making my own.”

“Ah, yes, let's talk about that, shall we? Do you have any idea how influential I am? The people I know? The damage I can do to this little career of yours?”

“Mother, that's enough!” Devon said sharply, in no doubt that Erica could and would do as she threatened.

If his mother was determined to oust him from the company it would hurt, but it wouldn't be the end of the world. He had his own contacts, people who had stated they preferred to deal with him rather than the formidable Erica Alexander. He had enough know-how and sufficient funds to set up in business for himself. He should have gotten out from under his mother's thumb and struck out on his own years ago.

But Jesse was different. His career was only beginning and it could all be taken away from him with a click of Erica's fingers. Jesse wouldn't know how to pick himself up and start over. Devon doubted he was even capable of it. Whichever way he turned, Jesse would end up hating him. If they stayed together and Jesse lost everything he had worked for, he would end up resenting Devon. If Devon left him, even in an effort to save him, Jesse would despise him for giving up so easily. Probably, Devon was the only person in the world who knew just how fragile Jesse was. It was not an easy choice, but he couldn't let his mother destroy Jesse.

“Okay, you win,” Devon said, withdrawing his hand from beneath Jesse's and turning to face his mother. “I'll end our relationship.”

“Like fuck you will!” Jesse exclaimed furiously, causing several of the other diners to turn in their seats and stare disapprovingly.

“It's for your own sake, Jess. I won't risk you losing everything.”

“Bullshit! That's not your decision to make. It's mine. And I won't lose everything because I'll still have you.”

“Young man,” Erica said haughtily. “Such behaviour may be acceptable in your usual surroundings, but this is a high-class establishment and you are embarrassing yourself. Devon has made his choice and you should be man enough to accept it.”

“Shut the fuck up, you evil bitch!” Jesse spat, his face red with anger. “Why can't you just leave us alone?”

A waiter approached the table, his expression one of authority blended with distinct wariness. While he was not about to stand by and allow his diners to be disturbed, he was unaccustomed to dealing with volatile young men. Especially ones who were on their feet and bellowing in the face of a respectable elderly lady.

“I'm sorry, Sir, but unless you lower your voice and stop swearing I will have to ask you to leave.”

Jesse ignored him. “Dev, come home with me. Let's talk about this.”

“There's nothing more to say,” Devon said softly, knowing Jesse's heart must be breaking every bit as much as his. He hated doing it, but he had to be strong and let him go. Jesse wouldn't see it now, but setting him free was the best thing Devon could do for him. “I'll stay at the hotel for a couple of days,” he said, afraid he would weaken if he looked into Jesse's pain-filled eyes. “It should give you time to pack your stuff and move out.”

TWO WEEKS after Jesse moved out, Mark Walker marched into Devon's office and threw himself into a chair.

“Come and work for me,” he said without preamble.

Since the disastrous dinner with his mother, Devon had talked to Mark almost daily, either by phone or email, sometimes both. Erica, he had not talked to at all. Having gotten her way, his mother had retreated to the Alexander estate, which presumably meant she had gotten over her concerns about the running of the company. Mark turned out to be a good friend, as supportive as he could be from the other side of the Atlantic. He told Devon bluntly that he didn't agree with the decision to break off his relationship with Jesse, but he understood his reasons—however misguided he considered those reasons to be. The night before, Devon hadn't been able to get hold of him, but he never imagined it was because Mark was winging his way across the ocean to put in a personal appearance.

He put down his pen, pushed aside the stack of forms he was signing, and stared at Mark in disbelief.

“Excuse me?”

“I said, come and work for me. I told you I'm opening up a London branch, didn't I? Well, I want you to run it for me. You'll have complete control. I've already leased the office space, but you can employ whoever you like.”

“Why?” Devon asked.

It wasn't that the offer was unappreciated, but Devon wondered what his motives were. Mark knew better than anyone how messed up his life was right now. Was he really the person he wanted in charge of his business? Or was Mark simply offering out of pity?

“Because you're good at what you do,” Mark told him, with no hint of anything other than meaning what he said. “You deserve better than the way your mother treats you. I'm serious, Devon. I can have a contract drawn up by the end of the day. What is there to keep you here? Work for me and I promise you can have free rein. I won't even tell you who you can date.”

“Look, it's tempting, but I need time to think. The way things are at the moment....”

“You could get him back,” Mark said, accurately guessing Devon's thoughts had turned to Jesse. He had given him up without a fight. To leave Alexander's now without trying to make amends with Jesse would mean it had all been for nothing. “Once you resign, your mother will have no say in what you do.”

“It's too late. My mother would still do everything she could to destroy his career. And I hurt him, Mark. This time I don't think he'll ever forgive me.”

NOW, A month after he had forced Jesse out of his life, Devon stood in his new penthouse office, looking out over the bustling city he called home. In the end, leaving his job had been easy. Unsurprisingly, his mother kicked up a storm, threatening to sue, to disinherit, to ruin Jesse even though they were no longer together. For the first time in his life, Devon saw his mother for what she was: a bully and a bitter, resentful old woman. Her threats meant nothing. It had taken him a lifetime, but finally he realized there was nothing Erica could do to either him or Jesse.

Even so, Devon was afraid to contact Jesse. Not afraid of what Erica might do—he was certain now that his mother did not hold the kind of sway she imagined—but he was afraid Jesse would reject him outright. As he had every right to do after the way things had ended. Devon heard from Kenny that Jesse believed Devon dumped him to save his own career rather than Jesse's. And Kenny had warned Devon to stay away. He had done Jesse damage enough, Kenny told him, appointing himself as Jesse's father figure and protector.

There was a polite tap on his office door and Devon turned as Emily poked her head into the room. She still had a tendency to be quiet and reserved, but sweet, loyal Emily's confidence had grown tenfold since he asked her to go with him when he left Alexander's. Emily was one of only two people Devon had brought with him. The other was Larry, the former security guard, who now proudly manned the main reception desk and continued to watch over Devon like a faithful guard dog.

“I wanted to remind you about your appointment,” Emily said. “Do you want me to order a taxi?”

“No, it's fine,” Devon smiled. “I think I'll walk. It's not far.”

The weather was fairly mild and he hoped the fresh air would blow away the cobwebs and wake him up a bit before he went into his meeting. Stuffy men in stuffy suits in a stuffy room he could do without, but the company had the potential to put a lot of business their way and he had promised Mark he would be on his best behaviour.

Sprinting across the street, Devon stepped onto the pavement and had barely taken two steps toward the other office building when a young man pushing a stroller sprinted around the corner, colliding with Devon head-on. Devon stumbled, and would have fallen if not for the man grabbing his arm and keeping him upright. He glanced up, not sure whether to bawl the guy out for being so careless or thank him for saving him from landing in a heap on the pavement.

Whichever, the words died on his lips as his gaze met with familiar, warm brown eyes. Jesse looked just as shocked to see Devon. He released his hold on Devon's arm and stood back with a hesitant smile. He stepped behind the stroller, using it—and the child in it—as a shield.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Devon snapped. Irrational, yes, but seeing Jesse had taken him by surprise. And what was he doing with a kid?

The smile faded and Jesse's eyes filled with hurt. “I'm working round the corner,” he said quietly. “I'm running a bit late. That's why I was hurrying. I didn't see you. And when I did, I didn't know it was you. Not till you looked up. And then....” He gave a little shake of his head. “But you don't want me prattling on. You probably just want to get wherever it is you're going.”

“Actually, yes.” Devon hated the coldness in his tone, and the crestfallen expression on Jesse's face, but he really had no idea how to deal with seeing him. So close. So incredibly beautiful. Devon felt frozen to the spot, his heart pounding. There was so much he wanted to say, but the words just wouldn't come. “I have an appointment. It was nice to see you. Take care of yourself, Jesse.”

Jesse hesitated for a moment. It was clear he was being dismissed, but he seemed to be debating whether it was worth arguing. After a few uncomfortable seconds passed, he gave it up as a lost cause and turned away. Watching him leave, Devon noticed he was no longer in a tearing hurry to be somewhere on time. Now Jesse walked with a heavy gait, shoulders hunched over the stroller, his head bowed.

“Jesse,” Devon blurted out suddenly, surprising himself as much as Jesse. He walked slowly toward him, not sure what he was going to say. All he knew was, he didn't want Jesse to walk out of his life again. There was, of course, one obvious topic of conversation. “Who does the kid belong to?”

Devon glanced down at the little girl in the stroller, answering his own question. With her dark, curly hair and big brown eyes, there could be no doubt as to her parentage.

“She's yours!”

“Yeah. Well, I think so.” Jesse flushed, embarrassed, but he looked at the child with something akin to affection. “The mother said she is.”

“Where's the mother now?” Devon asked. Not that he was any kind of expert, but the kid had to be about eighteen months old. Add another nine months to that... his mind raced, trying to do the math.

“It was before I met you,” Jesse said stiffly, accurately guessing what Devon was thinking. “Her mother took off right after she dumped Anya on my doorstep. Last I heard, she was back in Poland with some boyfriend.”

“So why am I just hearing about this?” Devon demanded. “You weren't going to tell me, were you? If I hadn't bumped into you, I would never have known.”

“It's nothing to do with you, Dev. This is my problem, not yours.”

“I could have helped you.”

“Why would you even want to, Dev? You hate me.”

“I don't hate you. I love you!” Devon protested, taking both of Jesse's hands in his own. “I've always loved you.”

“Yeah? You've got a funny way of showing it.”

“I was trying to protect you!”

“I don't
need
protecting!” Jesse yelled, snatching his hands out of Devon's grasp. “Not by you and not by Kenny. I'm not a kid, Dev.”

“I know you're not. But you could have talked to me, Jess.”

“Right, and what would you have said?” Jesse demanded, his temper rising. “If I told you I'd been left with a kid, Dev? What would you have said?”