If Only (20 page)

Kicking the wall, just barely missing Bree. The image of his foot hovering directly in front of her stomach, threatening both his wife and the child she carried.

Slapping one side of his wife’s face and then bringing the same hand back to slap the other side.

Grabbing her by the hair and then wrapping the tresses around his closed fist, causing her to cry out in pain.

The sound of Bree screaming and crying, begging for Bryan to stop. The fear expressed on her face, and the sight of tears glistening in the gorgeous depths of her emerald green eyes.

Delicate fabric being shredded into nothing but rags, and the disturbing sight of another man straddling his wife. Tearing the clothes from her uncontrollably shaking body with brutal violence and malicious words.

Bruises and abrasions Bree had been unable to explain. Eyes averted and short, clipped responses as she made lame excuses and then changed the subject, refusing to give him a straight answer as to what had happened.

Her favorite green blazer and black skirt disappearing, with the simple explanation it had been misplaced at the dry cleaners.

“You sick, twisted, sadistic bastard!” Scott screamed as he lunged again for Bryan Sexton, hearing his wife yell his name.

He reached forward and wrapped his hands around Bryan’s throat, tightening their hold slowly and precisely until he heard a gurgle in his throat. He tackled the blond man to the floor, their struggling knocking over a small end table holding an expensive crystal vase and a single red rose.

To Bree’s surprise and absolute astonishment, Donald Sexton merely stood there, watching the exchange with interest. During her marriage to Bryan, Donald had always played the role of the supportive father. He had refused to believe his precious son could possibly be guilty of any wrongdoing. He had bailed Bryan out of jail whenever he had been arrested on charges of domestic violence, and he had willingly paid fines, made calls to the district attorney’s office on Bryan’s behalf, and kept the company’s attorney on standby. Most of the time, calls were made and the criminal charges were dropped. Or witnesses were simply paid off.

Bryan Sexton was not the type of man who would back down from a fight. He was a man who had always taken whatever he wanted and consequences be damned. Clenching his hands into fists, he delivered a single punch to his opponent’s jaw, which caused Scott to stagger back with surprise.

But his victory was short-lived. He had underestimated his competition. Bryan Sexton was a man who was used to using money to solve his problems. Simply sprinkle a little money to make people do whatever you wanted them to do. But this was not the case with Scott Weston.

Scott propelled his clenched right fist forward, smashing into Bryan’s nose, causing the bones to break and his eyes to tear. Scott couldn’t help but to grin when he heard the man curse and grab his nose, which was spurting out blood.

“Dad? A little help here?” Bryan complained, his voice whiny and irritating, even to Donald’s ears. He groaned when his father’s response was to simply shake his head in refusal.

Bree’s breath caught in her throat as she watched the drama unfolding before her very eyes. She could feel Bryan's penetrating midnight blue gaze watching her, wondering if she had betrayed him. She instinctively shivered from the indirect contact, realizing he had every intention of following through with his battalion of threats.

His face was devoid of any emotion, but his eyes gave him away and revealed the truth. Flashing blue fire burned, the promise of violence causing her hands to tremble. His rage might not be obvious to everyone else in the room, but she knew Bryan Sexton well enough to recognize he was on the brink of erupting like a volcano.

Bryan lunged forward, like a rattlesnake poised to strike, but Scott was ready for him. When his hand reached out, Scott grabbed the other man’s wrist and twisted it effortlessly behind his back. Forcing Bryan’s figure forward, Scott slammed him repeatedly against the wall.

At a simple nod from Donald, Tyrone quickly intervened, reluctantly dragging Scott away from the mangled body of Bryan Sexton.

“That bastard’s not worth going to prison over,” Tyrone stated with a wry grin as he patted Scott on the back and gave him a conspiratorial wink.

Bree could hardly recognize the man standing in front of her. His high-priced, custom-tailored charcoal suit was wrinkled, and his long-sleeved white shirt was untucked and ripped in three places, missing a button and scattered with bloodstains. One eye was swollen shut, and his nose was bleeding, with a trail of blood flowing from one side of his mouth.

Instead of his usual cocky stride, he was now walking with a pronounced limp, while small cuts and bruises of various shapes and sizes in a rainbow of colors covered both his face and hands from his encounter with the mirror.

He took a single step forward, mentally assessing the damage. He could get out of this. He had gotten out of worse. His father would understand. He would manipulate the older man just like he had always done.

Crossing his arms confidently across his chest, Bryan pasted a fake smile onto his bruised face. “Father, surely you don’t really believe—”

“Enough!” Donald bellowed, interrupting his son in mid-sentence.

Donald Sexton ran a hand through his silver-streaked hair, his midnight blue eyes blazing. Without another word, he approached his son, suddenly looking much older than his sixty-seven years. The entire room was silent, almost as though they were all holding their breath.

“Once again, you have disappointed me,” he scolded, placing one hand on Bryan’s left shoulder.

“Father…”

“Silence!” he yelled as he stared into his son’s eyes, so identical to his own. His hand dropped from Bryan’s shoulder. “I am no longer your father. And you are no longer my son.”

Reaching his hand out for a pencil lying on his desk, he picked it up and rolled it between two fingers, back and forth in a fluid motion as he stared intently at Bryan, who failed to meet his father’s eyes. When his midnight blue eyes fell to the telephone sitting on his desk, he smiled, a slow and crafty smile.

“Your fate is beginning to look very bleak, Mr. Sexton,” Donald stated as he spoke to his son, addressing him as though he were merely another employee and not his flesh and blood. “Hand me your wallet,” he ordered.

Bryan opened his mouth to object, a steady stream of lies and promises on the tip of his tongue, but one look at the old man made him change his mind and keep his mouth closed. Reaching into the back pocket of his slacks, he pulled out his brown leather wallet with a sigh of defeat.

Seizing it from his outstretched hand, Donald perused its contents. Silently counting the large wad of cash, he removed every one of them except for a single twenty dollar bill. Shrugging off Bryan’s protests, he pulled out each and every one of his son’s credit cards. There were eight in all, all with lines of credit exceeding fifty thousand dollars.

Humming a tune to himself and ignoring his son’s pleas, he used a pair of scissors to turn the credit cards into a useless pile of shredded plastic.

Tossing the scissors onto the mutilated cards, he grinned maliciously at Bryan, a crafty glint in his blue eyes. Sliding his hands into the pockets of his slacks, a ruthless smile crossed his face. “Consider yourself demoted, Mr. Sexton. As of now, you are just a regular employee of Sexton Books. Your new position will begin immediately. Check in with Marlene Grace downstairs in the daycare. During the day, you will be helping her with the employees’ children. Changing diapers, taking out trash, getting baby spit-up all over those overpriced, overrated suits of yours.”

Hatred glittered in Bryan Sexton’s dark blue eyes as he glared at his father. His voice dripped acid as he replied, “But I hate children.”

“I know,” Donald murmured as a slow smile spread across his face and he relished Bryan’s obvious discomfort. “I will check in daily with Marlene just to make sure you are cooperating, and I will also have a surveillance camera placed in the daycare, so I can keep track of your activities. Luckily, I had the foresight to set up a video camera last year in your office.” As Bryan’s mouth dropped open in astonishment, he continued, “On the weekends, you will be working here with our janitorial staff. Those duties will consist of making repairs, cleaning toilets, scraping gum from underneath the kids’ tables in the daycare, and any other fun chores Tyrone here can think of.”

Tyrone rubbed his hands together with glee. His job was getting even more interesting, and he was looking forward to his new duties.

Donald remained silent, allowing Bryan to stew in his own juices for a couple of minutes. He touched a pewter picture frame that had a place of honor on his desk. Picking it up and cradling it in his hands, his eyes softened as he gazed at the image of his late wife. “As to your criminal activities,” he continued, placing the frame back onto his desk.

Opening his desk drawer, he removed two silver discs and handed one to Bree. “I took the liberty of asking Tyrone to make three copies on DVD from security’s loop monitors. Mrs. Weston can decide what she wants to do with her copy and whether or not she wishes to press charges against you.” He shrugged away Bryan’s protest with a simple wave of his hand. Clucking his tongue at his son, he pointed a finger in his direction. “You could be looking at both felony and/or misdemeanor charges,” he commented with a shake of his head.

He began counting a list of charges on his fingers. “Assault and battery, malicious intent, attempted murder, attempted rape, and the possibilities go on and on.”

Bryan couldn’t take it anymore. He couldn’t handle this cat-and-mouse game his father was playing with him. He was a grown man, and he was being treated like a little kid. Limping over to where his father was standing, he looked the other man in the eye. “You are getting out of line, old man.”

“Old man?” Donald scoffed with daggers in his dark blue eyes. He stepped forward, poking his son squarely in the chest. His voice lowered menacingly as his eyes glittered in anger. “You are being written out of my will,” he threatened as he watched Bryan’s eyes widen in disbelief. “I am taking away your posh position with this company, I have destroyed all of your credit cards, I am repossessing your overpriced vehicle, and I will no longer make your expensive mortgage payments. You will have nothing.”

Bryan Sexton laughed out loud as his midnight blue gaze raked over his father. “I will have nothing? You are getting senile, old man. Have you forgotten I have a wife with, shall we say, extravagant tastes? She has her own money, money that has absolutely nothing to do with you. Take away your money, take away my inheritance, you old goat. But I will not be going without. And you know it.”

He turned on his heel and started to walk out of his father’s office. He had one hand on the door when the cruel cackle in Donald’s voice made him pause and then turn.

“Simone is on her way, even as we speak, to this office to pick up her copy of the DVD. She is planning to begin divorce proceedings as quickly as humanly possible.” He grinned at the grimace on Bryan’s face.

“Did you honestly believe I wouldn’t cover my bases? Without my money and without her money, you will be shopping at thrift stores and eating off the dollar menu at fast-food establishments. I have secured a little apartment for you, a nice little efficiency in the worst section of town with a charming view of the alley. Also, here is the key to your new car. A brand-new decrepit piece of crap guaranteed to break down at each and every available opportunity.”

Bryan opened his mouth to speak, but he closed it right back, resembling a fish opening and closing its mouth. If he didn’t find a way to talk his way out of this, he was screwed. Clenching his fists, he fought the urge to wrap his hands around the bastard’s scrawny neck.

Fingering the silver-banded, diamond-encrusted watch on his left wrist, Donald fought the uncontrollable urge to chuckle. His son was finally getting exactly what he deserved. For the first time in his spoiled, selfish life, Daddy wasn’t rushing to his aid to clean up one of his messes. And it felt damn good not to have the added responsibility. Bryan was way past old enough to take care of his own problems. A flash of inspiration struck, causing him to grin to himself.

“As for the position you have recently vacated,” he murmured with a gloating smile as he shoved his hands into the pockets of his slacks. “Since the position of Vice-President is now available, I plan to enlarge Simone’s role in the company.”

It looked as though Bryan’s head was about to explode. This was absolutely the final straw. Everything else and now this? His soon-to-be-ex-wife was being promoted to his position? “You son of a bitch!” he growled as he lunged at his father.

A familiar clench of fear clawed in the pit of Bree’s stomach. Her hands trembled, and her mouth quivered. Midnight blue eyes nearly burned a hole into the back of her head. Once again, she was being blamed for Bryan’s own actions.

Donald waved a hand in Tyrone’s direction, his eyes watching the anger expressed in both Scott’s eyes and his frenzied, enraged movements. “Tyrone, why don’t you take Mr. Sexton and Mr. Weston down to the basement so they can…” His eyebrows raised and a secretive smile spread across his face. “Talk. Shove Mr. Sexton down the stairs once or twice for me, won’t you?”

Tyrone met Donald’s wicked smile with one of his own. He reached over and pushed Bryan toward the door, as he continued to yell and protest, with Scott following closely behind.

“Are you quite all right, my dear?” Donald’s harsh voice softened somewhat as soon as Bree and Donald were alone, concern flashing in his eyes.

Tears obstructed her vision as she reached for the tissue he handed to her. Murmuring her thanks, she nodded.

“Were you checked by your doctor the day this incident occurred?”

“I went to the emergency room to be examined right after it happened,” Bree responded.

After thinking for a few moments, he questioned, “Were there any fees involved? Any special tests, x-rays, a sonogram, or prescriptions?” Shaking her head, she answered as she dried her eyes with the tissue he had given her. “I’m on the company’s insurance. All I had to take care of was the co-pay.”