RequiredSurrender (25 page)

“Yes, yeeees, oh God. Oh God! I love this, Master.”

He caught her as she came completely undone in his arms. For
many moments he let her stay, clinging to his thighs. With her cheek intimately
pressed against his groin and her warm breath teasing him, he felt good. No, he
felt righter than he had in a long while. Soon she’d say what he wanted to
hear. Soon.

“I better make that call.”

Her voice was husky. Probably from swallowing his cock. He
opened his eyes and thought about what she said. Call? Oh yeah. Randal. The fact
that she’d raced into the kitchen to tell him first about the stock rising and
how she’d optioned it had started this little detour this morning.

He stroked her hair. “Don’t go yet. I like your warmth
against me.”

She snuggled in and he smiled.

“So you made Randal a fortune?”

“Yes, he’s going to be pleased.”

“You’re pleasing a lot of men in your life lately.”

“Are you happy?”

This was more than just one sentence. There were a multitude
of things buried in that innocent question. Are you happy? Do you approve of
me? Have I done well? Is this working? Do we suit?

“Oh yeah. I’m happy.” He rubbed her shoulders and back.
Thinking how true this was. He hadn’t been this happy in…well, forever. “I’m
very happy.”

Her head came up and she kissed his forearm before she
snuggled back down. And all he could think was he’d almost missed this because
of one small lie…

Chapter Eighteen

Jo was fidgety. Probably because of the collar and cuffs.
“Relax. You look beautiful. The gold and silver complement your outfit.”

She pulled down the visor and checked her reflection in the
lighted mirror behind it. “You think so?”

He reached over and gave her knee a squeeze. “I know so. You
worry too much.”

“Hm. And you don’t worry enough.”

“You’re referring to our little battle of wills?”

“More like an epic war I’m thinking.”

His hands strangled the steering wheel while he kept his
voice calm and even. He wanted to downplay her defiance. If he didn’t he’d just
give it more power. “You’ll eventually say the words.”

She snapped the visor up and crossed her arms over her
chest. “I won’t.”

“We’ll see.” He swallowed his frustration, because for the
life him, he was starting to believe her. She was the most stubborn woman he’d
ever come across. But he’d outlast her. He was sure of it. He didn’t say
anything until they pulled down the side street the restaurant was on. “Busy
little place.” He noticed her shoot forward and frowned, “What’s the matter?”

“There are a lot of cars. Too many. I—was that a yellow
Jetta?”

“I have no idea. But sit back. The seatbelt is digging into
your shoulder and wrinkling your blouse.”

“But…”

“What? You look panicked. Did an old boyfriend drive one or
something? I know it’s not shitface’s car. He drives a Mercedes.”

“No, one of my cousins drives a yellow Jetta.”

“Well,” he pulled his Jag into a spot and patted her knee,
“I’m sure your cousin isn’t the only one in the city with bad taste.”

She was a jumble of nerves as they got to the door and he
had no idea why. Surely it wasn’t just because of the metal.

“Do you see that? Why are the drapes closed? They’re never
closed. Especially at night.”

“Jo.” He held the door opened and waited for her to look at
him. “There’s no rule that says a restaurant has to leave its drapes open. Stop
dragging your feet. Let’s go.”

They’d just walked through the front entrance and into the
main dining room when Jo stopped short in front of him, and Ted had to step to
the side not to bump into her. He swore under his breath, but it was drowned
out by a shout.

“Josephine!”

“Surprise!”

Ted scanned the dimly lit room. The backdrop of dark wood
and crushed red-velvet chairs and booths were obscured by at least fifty of the
brightest, most vibrantly garbed people Ted had ever seen in one space.
Yellows, blues, greens and oranges of all shades assaulted his eyes. It took
him a moment to realize this was one big group. No. Not just a group. This was
Jo’s family. Surprise?

“Is it your birthday?” He may have directed this to Jo, but
a man came forward and leaned heavily on his cane with a smile.

“Birthday? No, no, no. It’s my daughter’s engagement party.”

Jo swayed, “No.”

“Your daughter’s…?” Ted wasn’t sure he heard correctly. He
didn’t hear correctly. He couldn’t have.

Her dad nodded. “Yes, Josephine’s.”

“Success!” Anjay clapped his hands and came forward,
addressing the crowd who laughed and clapped along with him. Ted heard nothing
but the sound of the bastard’s voice. “I think we surprised my fiancée. Look at
her,” he held up his hands motioning toward her, “she’s speechless, my Jo-Jo.”

“No…Ted, I…”

Ted ignored her. He was too busy staring at Anjay. Willing
the guy to get within arm’s reach of him.

“I c-can explain.”

Anjay was smart when he came near. He took up position right
next to her father, who apparently didn’t sense the tension swirling around them.

“Go ahead, Jo-Jo. Your dad is so happy right now. But if you
want to explain things—”

“No!” Pauline rushed through the back entrance and stopped
so fast she had to latch on to the corner of the wall for support. “I didn’t
know, Jo. I swear.”

Ted wasn’t even sure Jo heard her. The crowd was still
clapping and people chattered as Ted put the pieces together. And he wasn’t
liking the picture those pieces made. He waited for Jo to deny it. For her to
tell him that this was Anjay’s last-ditch attempt to get to her.

Stoically he watched, wanting her to swear for once, and
tell Anjay to go fuck himself. That this was all a mistake. But then Jo looked
at her mom, and Ted saw something pass between them. Regret? Sadness? His eyes
narrowed while he gave Pauline the once-over. Was her mother worried? He didn’t
have time to decide because Jo turned her attention to her father. The minute
she did her features softened. Ted couldn’t blame her there. Her father was
grinning like an overjoyed fool. Oblivious to his daughter’s plight.

Call Anjay out for the lying bastard he is. Do it. End
this now.

Ted held his breath. His heart hammered away without a shot
of renewed oxygen. He tore his gaze from Anjay’s smug face, worried if he
didn’t he’d rip the guy apart. He’d do it if she didn’t hurry up and end this.
Then he saw it. The release of pent-up breath that signaled her defeat. And
when her shoulders slumped, he had his answer.

This was the second time in his life the floor had been
pulled out from underneath him. The first time it had been by his wife. How
appropriate this second time came from a woman who was just like her.

“I’m sorry, Ted. I’m—”

“Oh Jo-Jo, I didn’t cash it. I won’t be needing it,” Anjay
said. He waved something, and when Ted finally focused in on it, a black ice
shrouded the small part of him that still believed in her. Killing any chance
he was going to give her to explain her side of the story. Because there, in
her own handwriting was a check made out to the bastard. The date? Saturday
night. The night of the awards.

It was only a moment, she’d said.
He was afraid I’d tell
you that I’d seen him
. Like hell. Anjay didn’t look too fearful now.

“I had a great time at the awards dinner and you were so
sweet to offer me the gift, but your dad,” he put his arm around Jo’s father
and beamed, “is going to take care of it. As an engagement gift to the both of
us. For our future together.”

“Ted, I can explain.”

He held up his hand, but before he could even look at her,
she was whisked away by a group of giggling women who came forward and grabbed
her. They excitedly chanted something about wrapping up the princess. Princess?
Even that term mocked him.

Engagement
gift?
The room almost spun as those
words and what they meant hit him. Jo had been with this guy. Met with him long
enough to have given him a gift before she’d come home to him that night.
Before she’d fucked him on the stairs. Before they had their bath and…he’d…
fuck,
what a fool you were. Sharing your secrets. Opening up to her.

“Ted, is it?” He heard her father say. At least he thought
he did. Maybe he just read his lips. Ted’s ears were buzzing like he’d been to
a rock concert and stood beside the speakers all night. “Come, join us in
celebrating this wonderful occasion.”

Ted didn’t remember what he gave as an excuse. He barely
remembered walking out of there. It wasn’t until he was behind the wheel of his
car that he could breathe. Oddly enough, it wasn’t Jo and Anjay that weighed on
him like a thousand-pound weight. It was what had happened with his wife that
ate him. Everything he’d fought years to forget now surged to the forefront
until the pressure became too much to bear.

“No fucking way. Not again. Never again.”

Jo stumbled into the women’s restroom as six of her cousins
chattered. She was too stunned to be mad. The look on Ted’s face when she
didn’t deny Anjay’s claim had nearly killed her. A man like him never lost his
cool or his color, and she was afraid he’d done both. The fury and, yes, hurt
she’d read in his eyes worked like a slash to the heart. A heart that was now
breaking over a stomach that churned and threatened to heave any moment.

“We saved the turquoise and peach for you, Jo. It’s
beautiful, yes?”

“Mari. Mari, please.” Her mother clapped to get the giggling
women’s attention. “Girls, I need to speak with Jo. Give us a few minutes.
Mari?”

“Yes, Auntie. Come on, girls, let’s give Aunt Pauline a few
minutes alone with her daughter.”

Jo was sure she nodded, but she remained staring at the sink
drain and didn’t release the air in her lungs until they left.

“I’m sorry. Your dad and Anjay planned all this without my
knowledge. When I came through the back and realized I—”

“Go away.”

“No. Not this time, Josephine. I saw Ted. I saw the look on
his face. The fact that you were bringing him to dinner again tells me he’s
important to you.”

Jo finally looked up. She wasn’t going to hide her pain any
longer. “He was important, but now you’ve ruined it. Does it make you happy to
see me like this? Why do you hate me?”

“Me hate you?” Her mother took two steps toward her and Jo
stepped back. Her shoulder hit the hand-towel dispenser.

“Don’t pretend you don’t. You’ve hated me ever since that
night, and now I know why. Anjay told me about you and Uncle Vic. How he held
your affair over your head to keep you from digging. You stopped. You weren’t
supposed to stop. When you did I felt like a worthless piece of shit.”

“Jo.”

Jo banged her head against the dispenser, trying to distract
herself because she recognized the signs. The nose burn and throat ache. Any
minute she’d be crying and she didn’t want to give her mother the satisfaction.

“Stop that.” He mother rushed forward and jerked her away
from the metal box. She took hold of her by the arms and gave her a shake.
“That’s what Anjay told you?”

“Yes. What, are you going to do deny it?”

“Deny being with Vic? No, I can’t deny that because…because
it’s the truth.”

“You bitch.” Jo really didn’t need to wrench her arms out of
her mother’s grip because her mom gasped and let go of her.

“I’m going to forget you said that and put it down to a bad
moment.”

“A bad moment. That’s an understatement, don’t you think?”
Jo went to step around her, but she wouldn’t let her by.

“Oh no, you’re not walking away this time. Not until we get
to the truth.”

A tear slipped out of the corner of her eye, and she scraped
it away. “Truth? I told you the truth. I’ve always told you the truth. You’re
the one who hides behind lies and deceit. Dad’s brother? His brother, for
fuck’s sake. Couldn’t you have found some stranger to screw? You know, someone
who wouldn’t hang around like the proverbial skeleton in the closet, ready to
pop out whenever he felt the need.”

“That’s enough.”

Jo scrubbed away another tear and glared. “I suppose you
have some grand excuse as to why you chose him instead of the mailman and too,
why you threw your own daughter under the bus to protect yourself afterward.”

“I have no excuse for what I did. I still don’t understand
it myself. All I will say about this is that I wasn’t thinking right at the
time. Your father was close to death and…and,” she let out a huge breath, “your
uncle Vic was there for me. He was the strength I needed. A pillar I could lean
on. It wasn’t about the sex. It never was for me. It was about the intimacy.
Your father was in the ICU for eight months. Eight long months I went not
knowing whether he’d live or die. I was scared and lonely, but that was still
no excuse.”

Jo was dizzy. She supposed this was what happened when one’s
world view shifted. Looking at her mother now she saw her as a person. An individual
who struggled with life the same as everyone else. There was no superhero here.
With dawning clarity Jo realized this was the first time she’d seen her mother
through the eyes of the woman she’d become. For the first time free of the
judgment that came from the vantage point of the angry young girl who felt
betrayed. With this grown-up perspective came a softening, an easing of the
edge around her heart that she’d always clung to, and Jo didn’t like it. She
was afraid to speak. Scared if she did her mother might guess that her daughter
was bending and be filled with hope.

“As to throwing you under the bus? I never did. I never
would.”

Any softness she’d been worried about was gone. “I’m not
interested. Don’t worry, I won’t say anything to dad about you and Uncle Vic. I
know it would kill him.”

She went to turn away but stopped when she heard her mother
say, “Is he a ghost then? Because the last time I checked your father was still
breathing.”

“What?”

Her mother leaned against one of the pedestal sinks and
folded her arms. “I told your father what happened between your uncle and me
years ago. I couldn’t live with that hanging over my head. He forgave us, but
it took me a long time to realize I had to forgive myself. That’s what you need
to do, Jo. Forgive yourself. Mistakes happen. You were young and drunk—”

“I wasn’t drunk. That’s what Anjay wanted you to believe. I
was drugged. I know that now. A bit of vodka isn’t enough to obliterate a whole
evening.”

Her mother slowly uncrossed her arms and stood up straight.
Spying her expression, Jo was getting ready to jump aside because her mother’s
face rapidly changed color. Going from pink to a pasty white as she whispered,
“You’re sure?”

Jo nodded. “Positive. Why did you stop asking me? Why did
you shut me out?”

Her mother was frowning and looked completely distracted
when she said, “But I saw the picture.”

“Picture?”

Her mother didn’t move. “When I told Anjay I was going to
your father about what happened, because drunk or not, he shouldn’t have taken
advantage of you. You were young and he should have known better. That was when
he showed me a picture. It was of the two of you together in a romantic… He
behaved like a spurned lover. He insisted it was consensual and the only reason
you called me that night was because you had a fight and—God, Jo, I was in a
panic over your father at the time. Not knowing what would happen once they
took him off the ventilator and then you called and I couldn’t just leave and
later when I got home you changed your story. I didn’t know what to think. Who
to believe, but I chose you. I did.”