When Empires Fall (52 page)

Only, instead of the numbness and calm he had anticipated and expected, something else began to creep its way into his system, skittering along his skin like millions of ants, bubbling under it like acid. His breathing accelerated as he stared down at his arms, his vision blurring and the steam of the shower burning his eyes until he had no choice but to shut them tight. Fear hit his bloodstream and chilled him against the heat. Something was wrong, horribly wrong.

Within seconds, the voices started.

Being the seventh son of the seventh son was supposed to mean something, goddamnit! But you’re just fucking pathetic!

He rubbed his temples frantically with his hands, willing the voice of his father to go away, to leave him be. But it didn’t let up. No. Cyrus only spoke louder.

How the hell do you expect to live up to my expectations when all you do is parade around like a pansy boy with your hippie music and anti-war traitor friends? I served my country, as all Vasser men have done. But you…no, you would rather spit on everything I’ve made, everything I am!

“Shut up,” Win groaned, smacking at his forehead harder, more fervently, his eyes closed against the fear he felt, the anguish. “Leave me alone.”

Don’t you know what I can do to you, boy?

“Stop it.” Win clawed at his face, his hands shaking feverishly as the memories came flooding back into his mind, as they often did when he gave in to the momentary comfort from his vices, only to push the envelope too far and succumb to the fear and violence that still resided so prominently in his mind. Only something about this was different, worse, than those other times.

He felt suddenly haunted by his father, infested by the monster he had feared all his life. If he had had the ability to do so, he would have screamed. Instead, fear seemed to have a lock grip on his throat, choking him, strangling the life from his very body.

You’re trapped, boy. You think you can escape me?

Dear God, he was trapped. Trapped like a goddamn rat.

Panic jolted through his system like a speeding train and all he could do was fumble his way from the shower, the water slick under his feet and causing him to grip the shower door to keep from crumbling to his knees.

Paranoia had him reaching for the baggie that held the pills Jorja had brought him. Without thinking he tore open the bag and dumped the remaining pills into his palm, knocking them back with relish, eager to stop feeling, to stop thinking. If he could get his mind numb enough, maybe the voices would stop. Dear God, he had to make the voices stop…

But Cyrus didn’t go away. Instead, he instructed Win to do the very thing that had been nagging at the back of his mind for decades, always there as a welcome way out, an easy escape.

And when he latched the belt around his neck and tumbled into a dark, numb unconsciousness, Win was, at last, at peace.

Grant sat back
in his office chair and watched the sun ascend over the buildings of New York. He sipped his coffee, oddly at peace with the world, with his life. It was a feeling he certainly was not used to, nor was he quite yet ready to embrace. But it was there nonetheless, and part of him was thoroughly enjoying the comfort it gave him.

There was no doubt in his mind where his newfound contentment came from. If he had been a foolish or more arrogant man, he may have attributed it to his own actions or his own carefully constructed mindset. But no, it was neither of those things.

It was Quinn.

She had conveniently buried herself underneath his skin and projected warmth and a sense of quiet relief through to his very core. How she had managed it, he couldn’t be sure. He was still trying to sort through the details of it himself. But somehow she had slowly but surely chipped away at his defenses, at his fortified wall, and slipped into his life.

And, though the thought worried him, into his heart as well.

Since the night of the fundraiser, not a single day had gone by without him seeking her out, needing her close by, even if only to see her smile. It was a smile that brightened even his darkest hours, a feat that had never, ever been accomplished by anyone but her.

And the nights…not a single one had passed without him calling her, craving the sound of her voice, needing her to take his mind off of the chaos that had descended upon his family. In the rare moments when he needed to vent about his frustrations, or bounce ideas off of someone about how to solve the problem of dwindling reservations or bad press, she was there to listen. To comfort.

He had never needed anyone in his entire life. Not even his family, who he cherished unconditionally but had never
needed
just to get through the day.

But it was starting to become painfully clear to him that he desperately needed his secretary.

With a heavy sigh, he set his coffee mug aside on his desk and closed his eyes, picturing her face in his mind, lit with a warm smile. She was due in for work at any moment and it took all the pride he could muster to not race downstairs to meet her on the street the second the cab dropped her off. That would be a greater show of desperation for her than he would ever be willing to show. A man still had to retain some amount of dignity, no matter how taken he was with a woman.

“Good God, is he
actually
taking a break?” Her voice shot into the room as she sailed into his office, all smiles and dressed in a knee length spring dress the color of rich lilacs, her dark curls bouncing just over her shoulders.

His eyes flew open as he turned to face her, clearing his throat.

“Just for a second.” He frowned, feeling foolish. Though when he looked up to meet her eyes, he felt the worst of his awkwardness fade. His eyes flicked up and down her body once as a soft grin curved over his lips. “Is it spring already?”

Quinn let out a light laugh as she came towards him, pulling at the skirt of her dress self-consciously. “It’s work appropriate, right? I mean, with the warm weather we’ve been having this week, I’ve seen a lot of people breaking out their spring clothes. Figured I’d go along with the trend.”

He said nothing as he rose to his feet and rounded his desk, approaching her slowly, his dark amber eyes flashing with something that was wholly unprofessional.

“It is up to me to decide what is office appropriate and what isn’t, Quinn,” he said softly, reaching out with his right hand to tilt her chin up so her eyes were on his. Slowly, deliberately, he closed the distance between them and leaned in to kiss her.

Quinn released a long, slow breath of relief as she melted against him, her hands finding their way to the front of his white dress shirt, clutching at the fabric as he deepened the kiss and pulled her closer to him, his hands sliding over her back covetously.

When he broke the kiss and pressed his lips instead to her forehead, savoring the sunny warmth of her, he felt all of the walls surrounding his heart and mind come crumbling down in glorious flames of bright golden light. This is it, he thought wildly. Thank God.

“Grant?” Quinn murmured softly, her entire body shivering against his as she gave in to what he gave her, this sense of security and wonder. How in the world did she ever manage to convince this man, of all people, to want her? One of the heirs to the great Vasser empire, a man who could have any woman in the entire country. And yet, somehow, unbelievably, he had chosen her. At least for now. She had to pray with everything she had that he never changed his mind and gave up on her. Because right now, in this moment, it was undeniably clear to her that she was in love with him. Desperately, helplessly, in love.

“Yes, Quinn?” he said in response, his hands sliding up her arms and winding their way into her hair, stoking the fire that was already burning rampant inside of her.

“I think the phone is ringing,” she gasped, pushing away from him. “Or it’s in my head, I don’t know.”

But sure enough, the moment she focused on something other than the sensation of his hands on her, she heard the phone shrilling obnoxiously from her desk.

“I better get that.” She tried to smile, though it was a bit weak and delirious around the edges. As she made her way from the room, he watched her go, his own lips upturned in a feral grin.

It was probably misguided, but he got a kick out of seeing her flustered and breathless. Especially when it was he who caused it.

Moments later, she came back into the office, worry and anger clouding her eyes. He immediately felt concern flush out the contentment in his system in one disheartening wave.

“What is it?”

Quinn hesitated, pursing her lips in a gesture that was as undeniably protective as it was instinctive. “That was Marshall. He wanted me to let you know that he isn’t going to come by the hotel today, or any day in the near future. He said that since he’s being forced out of the picture by his dead father instead of being passed the torch, as was expected, then there’s no need for him to be a part of running the business any longer. He’s decided to retire. Oh, and he said good riddance because he was sick of all of us anyways. Then he hung up on me.”

Grant grimaced, his eyes flashing with offense and fury. “He told you all of this? Instead of coming in here to speak to me like a man?”

“That’s what it looks like,” she huffed, angrily crossing her arms over her chest. “I just don’t understand it. It’s not like you asked for Madison to get control of everything, so why the hell is he acting like it’s your fault? You are being bypassed just as much as he is.”

Irritated, Grant sat down on the edge of his desk and stared down at his meticulously waxed dress shoes, his mind working through just how to deal with his uncle. Clearly, and very understandably, Marshall was upset. He’d been upset all week. But he was acting incredibly childish about the whole matter, which did nothing but hurt the family. How could Marshall not see that?

Then to bark out orders and announcements to Quinn about family business, when it was not her burden to bear? It was unprofessional, outrageous, and cruel. And if it was the last thing he ever did, he would make sure it never happened again.

“I’m sorry he did this to you,” he said quietly, glancing up from his feet to face her. “I won’t let him talk to you that way again.”

She waved him off, feeling sorry and mad and frustrated all at once. “It’s not a big deal. He was just upset and he took it out on me because he didn’t have the backbone to talk to you face to face. He’ll get over it, Grant. Just give him time.”

Because she saw that he needed it, could sense his exhaustion and sourness, she went immediately to his kitchenette and put on a pot of coffee. When she was finished and the warm smell of roasted grounds was filling the room, she turned to face him again, her smile back in place.

“I should get to work. But you go ahead and enjoy a cup of coffee, and once lunchtime rolls around you are in for an especially wonderful treat from yours truly. I’ve got to hone my skills before I start my internship next week.”

“Is it a cyanide pill so I can end my misery?” he grumbled dryly, eyeing her with a small smile as she started laughing.

“You know what, I’m fresh out. But I guarantee you the lunch I made for you is much better than a cyanide pill.” She winked with a quick grin and swept from the room, shutting his office door with a sharp click behind her.

Little did either of them know that lunch would go uneaten that day.