When Empires Fall (55 page)

But, of course, many of them still expected
him
to have all of the answers, seeing as he ran the New York operation and had been center stage when the shit had hit the fan.

Sometimes, as he often thought to himself, wearing the crown was one of the biggest and heaviest burdens. Now it was Madison’s turn to wear the mightiest crown of the entire Vasser empire, which only made him realize that he did not, at least any longer, envy her.

Marshall had shown up to the hotel to specifically welcome his four remaining brothers and their families, but the reunion was dismal and melancholy. Despite the bad choices Win had made in his life, he was still their brother. And Cyrus was still their father. The fact remained that they had lost them both in a tragically short period of time.

Oddly enough, it seemed as though Win’s sudden death had lit a fire beneath Marshall, who was eager to assist and talk with any one of the family members who sought him out. He had helped sort out room keys and arrange for bags to be brought upstairs. He had even sent Walter out to get baby formula from a nearby drugstore because one of Grant’s cousins, who had just had a baby, had run out.

Then, somewhere in between all of the bustling and gossip and frantic arranging, Marshall had even pulled Grant aside and apologized for his behavior earlier that week. It had been short and sweet, but good enough.

Grant was just happy to not have a reason to dislike his uncle any longer.

The elevator came to a smooth stop at the second floor and the doors slid quietly open. Grant’s eyes opened and he pushed back from the wall of the elevator, making his way towards his office. He spotted Quinn seated at her desk, the phone pressed to her ear as she jotted down notes hurriedly on a piece of paper.

As he approached, she glanced up and smiled, speaking into the phone. “Grant’s right here, hold on.”

She held out the receiver for him even as she continued to write down more notes. “It’s Linc, he wants to know if we can draft up a press release for him. He’s busy with other things.”

Grant accepted the phone. “Am I to assume you just told Quinn all of the important details you want in this release?”

“
Yep. Just get a draft done, I’ll finalize it in the morning. I’m just swamped right now; I might even bring in a gallon of Red Bull and make this an all-nighter
.”

“Go home, get some sleep,” Grant sighed, rubbing his left temple wearily. “The work will still be there in the morning.”

There was a long, dead silence on the other line.

“
Alright, who are you and what have you done with my brother?
” Linc asked, dumbfounded. “
Because he would never utter those words, I can guaran-fucking-tee it.
”

Grant chuckled, eyeing Quinn once more as she smiled up at him. “Let’s just say I’m looking at things through fresh eyes these days. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

As he hung up the phone, Quinn grabbed the notes she had made and rose to her feet.

“Why don’t we go sit on the couch in your office? There’s a coffee table in there so we can spread out. Plus, seeing as I am always prepared for any situation that may require food, I brought snacks and stowed them away in your fridge.”

“What kind of snacks?” he asked, perking up a bit at the thought.

She only grinned wickedly as she rounded her desk and reached up to tug playfully on his tie, bringing his face down to hers for a quick kiss.

“That is for me to know and for you to find out.”

He smiled after her as she sauntered into his office, stack of notes in hand and hips swaying. That was when he realized that he, coincidentally, had a bottle of Pinot Noir stashed in one of the kitchenette cabinets. It had been a gift from a client several months back, but he had never had someone to enjoy it with. Until now.

“They may not be as elegant as the
hors d’œuvres
I’m sure you’re used to, but trust me, they are plenty tasty.” Quinn was saying as she pulled a few Tupperware containers from his fridge and set them on the counter. She then reached into a lower cabinet to grab an elongated sapphire blue ceramic platter.

“I’m not as sophisticated as you may assume, Quinn,” he told her lightly as he came up behind her and reached over her head into a cabinet, unearthing the bottle of wine and two plastic cups, showing them to her. “See, I even drink wine from Solo cups.”

She laughed and shot a look over her shoulder at him. “Reminds me of college.”

“Oh, this wine will be better than anything you had in college. You can trust me on that one,” he mused, shifting to the side of her at the counter so he could uncork the wine and pour a generous amount into each cup. “You’re stuck with the Pinot, however. I’m afraid it’s all I have.”

“You know what, it’s perfect. The smoky flavor of the Gouda paired with the cherry and oak notes of the wine will be exquisite,” Quinn informed him cheerfully, arranging water crackers, slivers of crusty rye bread, gouda cheese, prosciutto, and a combination of green grapes, fresh figs and blackberries on the plate in an artful presentation.

They both made their way to the sofa, she with the food and he with the wine, and settled in. Quinn curled her legs beneath her and grabbed her notes and a fresh notepad, her cup of wine in her free hand. Before she tried it, however, she lifted her eyes to meet his, an odd mix of sadness and hesitation on her face.

“I didn’t really get to say this earlier, since you were so busy today. But I’m really sorry about your dad.”

He let out a long breath and sipped at his wine, wondering just what to say to her. He hadn’t had much time that day to think about his father, or what it meant to him now that the man was dead.

“I’m sorry too, I suppose. Sorry that he gave up.”

“He seemed just fine the other day when I saw him in
Cherir
eating dinner with your uncle. Did anything else happen?”

Grant frowned, staring down into his cup doubtfully as he considered her question. “Maybe. The police suggested that he may have been on drugs.”

“Oh.” She bit her lip, feeling sorry for him and a bit annoyed at his dead father. “That’s awful.”

He shrugged, leaning over to sample a thick slice of Gouda. “I knew he had used in the past, but I guess I didn’t realize he was still into it.”

“It isn’t your fault, Grant,” she asserted, reaching out to grab a hold of his hand, grasping it in her own tightly and meeting his eyes. “He wanted to go, felt it was best. And so he did.”

Grant stared at her silently for a moment, emotions swirling uncomfortably inside of him. The feel of her hand on his was comforting, as was the quiet look of support and concern in her eyes. She cared about him, for some odd reason.

God, it had been so long since he had had that from someone outside of his family.

“I know what will cheer you up,” she said, pulling her hand from his and rising to her feet. She went to his desk and grabbed a tiny box from behind his computer monitor, bringing it over to him. He accepted the box numbly, lifting off the lid to expose the harmonica that lay inside.

Quinn sat back down beside him and smiled sweetly. “Play me something.”

He sat still for a long moment, wondering if he could, or if he should. Then again, it was a simple enough request. What reason did he really have, other than dealing with the demons of his past, to not give her what she wanted?

“What would you like to hear?” He pulled out the tiny instrument and set the box aside, his fingers finding placement over the holes.

“Surprise me.” She grinned, patting his knee affectionately.

He shot a quick glance over at her and smirked, before setting his fingers and pressing his mouth softly against the cool metal.

He launched into an old Irish tune he had picked up somewhere years ago, one that had been Madison’s favorite. It was a hauntingly soft melody that soothed and chilled all at once, reverent to a land of ancient and timeless magic.

Quinn sat back and watched him play, noting how his eyes closed as he lost himself in the music. She knew he tended to run himself ragged without giving himself time for release, a habit that had made him cold and hardened over the years. She hoped to change that, to help him see that he needed rest every bit as much as he needed his work.

Hopefully, in time he would see just how much she could offer him. Wanted to offer him.

Grant gave in to the song, his grief pouring through from his subconscious and into the melody. Grief for his dead fiancé Erin, for his father, for his grandfather, for the hotel and his family. Then, as if it had never been, his grief was smoothly replaced by hope and by love. His heart ached, not used to feeling so much, and his mind reeled and gave up trying to process it all, gave up trying to fight it. There was nothing left in him that had the strength to beat it back any longer. He was caught.

He finished on a long and mournful note, then pulled the instrument away from his mouth, set it aside, and buried his face in his hands. He let out a heavy, burdened sigh, and then tilted his head up to face her.

“Can I share something with you?” he asked, his expression dark and filled with emotion.

She only nodded, tears brimming in her eyes from the song he had played and the display of emotions he had never before shown her.

This time he had let his walls down for her, and she had never been more honored.

“A few years ago, I was with this woman. Her name was Erin.” His eyes flashed with an old, long held despair as he spoke her name, the old wound tearing open as he brought the memories back to the forefront of his mind. “I met her at Harvard. She was a law student and I was in business. She was intelligent, beautiful; she also came from a powerful family, one that ran one of the wealthiest steel factories in the country. It made sense for us to be together, and so we were. Within a few years we were engaged. Everything seemed perfect. Until she was killed in a car accident on the New Jersey Turnpike.”

“My God.” Quinn pressed her free hand to her mouth, shock waves of staggering grief shivering through her. “Grant, I’m so sorry.”

“Wait, please.” He stopped her, fighting to control himself, to beat back the echoes and shadows of pain and misery. “After Erin died, I assumed I would never have what she and I had ever again. To be honest, I didn’t want it because I didn’t want to ever go through losing it again. But then you came in, bright and cheerful, and as much as I wanted to resist you, I couldn’t. I can’t.”

Quinn managed a small smile, but there was an immense sorrow in it that destroyed him, especially because he knew he had put it there. And yet she had to know the truth. Had to understand why he was so cautious, why he didn’t give in to her the way most men would, the way he knew he should.

It was because he was just as scared of her as he was in love with her.

“I’m not the best with words, and I usually say a lot less than I should.” He paused then, his lips quirking up slightly at the edges. “Then again, you often say much more than you should. So maybe we balance each other out.”

She let out a watery laugh, a tear slipping down her cheek as she continued to watch him, her heart slowly recovering from the shock he had delivered to it. Knowing his pain made her see him in a much clearer light. And hearing the affection in his voice for the woman he had lost only made her respect him even more than she already did.

He continued, the amber in his eyes shining in the soft yellow light of the floor lamp behind her. “You should know that the only reason I have been able to even sleep these last several nights has been because I’ve had your voice to fall asleep to. I know it sounds stupid-”

“Are you kidding? That’s the most romantic thing anyone’s ever said to me,” she interrupted, her eyes dancing even as she wiped away a few more tears.

“Well, I can do better than that.” Slipping off the sofa, he knelt down on the floor in front of her, reaching for her hands. He pushed aside the awkwardness he felt and tried to focus only on her, on making her see just how much he needed her. “When everything around me is crumbling to pieces, all I have to do is look at you and I can keep going, keep living. You’re warm, Quinn. The warmest person I’ve ever known. I never realized just how devoid of warmth my life was until you came into it.”

She ignored the rest of the tears that fell down her cheeks and leaned in to kiss him tenderly, sweetly, her hands still clutched in his. When she pulled away and smiled, he basked in the light of it.

“You’re right, that was better.”

She suddenly slid into his arms, her hands coming up to dive into his dark hair as her mouth found his, desperate and eager. Her heart lifted and fell in one glorious wave as she reveled in the feel of his hands gripping her back, capable and strong. He, who was made of immovable rock and unbreakable steel, had somehow enveloped her like coolly sweet satin, smooth and gentle. This man, so formidable and powerful, wanted her. It shook her to the very core just to think of it.

“God, why did we wait so long to do this?” she gasped, shuddering as he hastily unzipped her dress and pulled the fabric down, exposing her.

“I’m too careful,” he managed, his mouth greedily finding the smooth curve of her throat.