“You’re getting ahead of yourself.”
“I don’t think so.”
I sighed.
“Okay, maybe so.” My mother’s eyebrows furrowed. “But I would feel more comfortable if she signed something.”
I was getting irritated. “This isn’t about you.”
She pursed her lips together so tight they nearly disappeared. It was the look she always gave when I hit a nerve.
My mother and I had only had one fight in our entire relationship, and it had been explosive—back when I’d joined the Hell’s Seven MC gang. She had this incessant need to fix every problem she encountered, even if it wasn’t her own. Somehow my issues always became a reflection of her role as a parent, and it wasn’t until I called her out on it that she realized what she’d been doing.
“Then what do you want?” she asked.
“I want to see her.”
She laughed out loud (too loud for my taste), then gave me a sympathetic look. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?” She shook her head and gave another snub wave of her hand. “You don’t even know if she’s yours.”
“Well, how am I going to know for sure if I don’t?” I pressed forward. “Before I even consider taking a DNA test, I want to see this kid for myself. If she looks nothing like me, then I won’t even waste my time.”
I hadn’t missed the eagerness in Ella’s voice when she’d brought up the test. She must have anticipated that I’d request one and wanted to make sure I knew it was okay with her.
“Well, it sounds like your mind’s made up,” my mother said, to my surprise, and drank another sip of her wine. “Nothing I say will change it.”
“At least one of my parents understands that.”
She glanced at me, her facial expression of “yuck” clear as she stared at the wine, but then raised the glass to finish the last drop. “It’s late, I need to be getting home.” She rose to her feet, waving slightly. “Please be careful, Marcus darling. We don’t know what her true intentions are, and I don’t want to see you get hurt.”
“I can take care of myself,” I reminded her. “I’ve done it since I was a kid.”
I saw the pang of guilt in her eyes, and almost regretted my words. We hadn’t always been close. Both she and my father had been absent throughout most of my childhood, leaving me to fend for myself. Eventually my mother had realized that she had put her work before her son, and she’d been attempting to make amends ever since. My father never realized.
I walked her to the door and embraced her. “I love you, Mother.”
She pulled away and smiled, then cupped my cheek. “I love you, too, darling. And I hope you know I only want what’s best for you.”
I placed my hand on hers. “I do.”
With that, she kissed me on the cheek and walked out the door. I hadn’t wanted her to leave on a sour note. At least she was trying.
My cell rang, and I was so distracted that I answered it without thinking. “Hello?”
“It’s about time you picked up,” came my father’s annoyed voice. “I’ve been trying to reach you all day.”
Fuck. “I’ve been busy.”
“Too busy to talk to your father?”
“Too busy to deal with whatever bullshit you’re going to throw at me.”
“Very funny, Marcus. I wanted to let you know that there is an opportunity for you to oversee the remodel of the Rose Palace Resort and that you should take it.”
“No.”
My father clucked his tongue with annoyance. “Marcus, the Regal is doing well. You’ve done a fantastic job, but now it’s time to move on to the next project.”
He just won’t take a hint…
He never stopped. My father thought that the only way to be successful was to have your name on as many contracts and businesses as possible. He was never satisfied with his accomplishments and always looked toward the next big project.
“I’m not having this discussion with you. The Regal is mine and mine alone. If and when I decide to leave, it’ll be on my terms.”
“Every successful hotelier doesn’t remain Managing Director,” he lectured. “You have more than enough money to hire someone to do the job for you. Marcus, you have so much potential. You should be doing more.”
“I’m hanging up now.”
He protested, but I’d already pulled the phone from my ear. I ended the call angrily and dropped the phone on the couch.
Samson wandered back into the room and wagged his tail when he saw I was finally free to give him attention. I put my wine down and stroked his head. While I did, I thought about my own relationship with my parents. How many times had I wished for a closer family when I’d been a kid? How many times had I been left alone with family members or a nanny because my parents had to work?
If there was the slightest chance the kid was mine, I needed to know. I pulled back from Samson and picked up my wine once more. After another moment of deliberation, I picked up my phone and dialed Ella’s number.
It rang several times before she answered. “Hello?”
“It’s me.”
“I hoped you might call,” Ella said. “What’s going on?” Her tone wasn’t as icy as I thought it would be, but I couldn’t say I didn’t deserve it, given the way I’d treated her.
“We need to talk.”
“I’d say that’s an understatement.” Well, that was a bit colder…
“I get that you’re angry with the way I reacted, but what did you expect?” I asked. “You called me up out of nowhere, invited me to lunch, and then dropped a huge bombshell on me.”
“I understand that, Marcus.” She sighed. “I really do. What I didn’t appreciate was the way you reacted, like it … like my daughter”—She seemed to choke up—“was no big deal and you were done with the conversation.”
I wanted to say I was sorry for that part, but I couldn’t. Not yet. “I needed to clear my head. Anyway, I didn’t call you to argue. As I said, we have a lot to talk about.”
“I did enough talking at lunch. I’m more than ready to hear what you have to say.”
“I would like to meet her.” I heard myself say, and at that moment, I realized it was true. I did want to see the kid for myself. “I think that might be wise before I decide whether or not to take the test.” I wanted to make it sound like something more than mere curiosity.
“Is that necessary?”
“Yes.” I took a sip of wine and stood to my feet. “If she really is my daughter, you at least owe me a private meeting.”
“This isn’t a business transaction, Marcus. This is a child we’re talking about. My child.”
“Yeah, and supposedly she’s my child, too, Ella. You have every right to be protective, but I have rights as well, and if you’re serious about me being a part of her life, that’s going to include me seeing her.”
She didn’t respond.
Her hesitation and defensiveness had me concerned. What had happened to cause her to be so overprotective? However, she had delivered the news on her terms, so it was only fitting I meet my daughter on mine. I needed to know for sure, and I needed to know as soon as possible.