Grace announces that dinner is served in the kitchen.
Taking Ana’s hand, I give it a quick squeeze to see how she’s holding up, and we follow the guests through to the kitchen. Mia ambushes Ana in the hallway, holding two cocktail glasses, and I know she’s up to no good.
Ana gives me a brief panicked look but I let her go, watching as they enter the dining room. Mia closes the door behind them.
In the kitchen, Mac approaches me to offer his congratulations.
“Please, Mac, call me Christian. You’re at my engagement party.”
“Heard about the crash.” He listens intently as I give him the grisly details.
My mother has set out a feast with a Moroccan theme. I load a plate while Mac and I shoot the breeze about The Grace.
As I help myself to a second portion of lamb tagine, I wonder what the hell Ana and Mia are doing? I decide to go and rescue Ana but outside the dining room, I hear her shouting. “Don’t you dare tell me what I’m getting myself into!”
Shit. What gives?
“When will you learn? It’s none of your goddamned business!” Ana rages.
I try to open the door, but someone is in the way. The person moves and the door swings open. Ana is bristling with anger. Her complexion reddening. She’s shaking with fury. Elena stands before her, drenched in what must have been Ana’s drink. I shut the door and stand between them.
“What the fuck are you doing, Elena?” I snarl.
I told you to leave her alone.
She wipes her face with the back of her hand. “She’s not right for you, Christian.”
“What?” I yell and I’m so loud that I’m sure I’ve startled Ana because Elena jumps, too. But I don’t give a fuck.
I’ve warned her. And warned her.
“How the fuck do you know what’s right for me?”
“You have needs, Christian,” she says, her voice softer, and I know she’s trying to placate me.
“I’ve told you before, this is none of your fucking business.” I’m surprised by my own vehemence. “What is this?” I scowl at her. “Do you think it’s you? You? You think you’re right for me?”
Elena’s expression hardens, her eyes like flint. She stands taller and steps toward me. “I was the best thing that ever happened to you,” she hisses, with unrestrained arrogance. “Look at you now. One of the richest, most successful entrepreneurs in the United States. Controlled, driven, you need nothing. You are master of your universe.”
She’s going there.
Fuck.
I step back. Disgusted.
“You loved it, Christian, don’t try and kid yourself. You were on the road to self-destruction, and I saved you from that, saved you from a life behind bars. Believe me, baby, that’s where you would have ended up. I taught you everything you know, everything you need.”
I cannot remember a time when I’ve felt such rage. “You taught me how to fuck, Elena. But it’s empty, like you. No wonder Linc left.”
She gasps. Shocked.
“You never once held me. You never once said you loved me.”
Her ice-blue eyes narrow. “Love is for fools, Christian.”
“Get out of my house,” Grace commands in a cold fury.
The three of us jump and turn to see my mother, an avenging angel, standing on the threshold of the room. She fixates on Elena, and if looks could kill, Elena would be a small mound of ash on the floor.
I look from Grace to Elena, her color now drained from her face. And as Grace stalks toward her, Elena seems powerless to move or say anything while under my mother’s withering glare. Grace slaps her hard across her face, astonishing us all. The sound resonates off the walls. “Take your filthy paws off my son, you whore, and get out of my house—now!” Grace seethes through gritted teeth.
Fuck. Mom!
Elena clutches her cheek in shock. She blinks rapidly, staring at Grace, then turns and abruptly leaves the room, not bothering to close the door behind her.
Mom turns to me, and I cannot look away.
I see hurt and anguish written all over her face.
She says nothing as we stare at each other, and an oppressive and unbearable silence fills the room.
Finally she speaks. “Ana, before I hand him over to you, would you mind giving me a minute or two alone with my son?” It’s not a request.
“Of course,” Ana whispers. I watch Ana leave and close the door.
Mom glowers at me, saying nothing, looking at me as though she’s seeing me for the first time.
Seeing the monster she reared but did not create.
Shit.
I’m in big trouble. My scalp prickles in acknowledgment and I feel the blood drain from my face.
“How long, Christian?” she says, her voice low. And I know that tone—it’s the calm before the storm.
How much did she hear?
“A few years,” I mumble. I don’t want her to know. I don’t want to tell her. I don’t want to hurt her and I know it will. I’ve known that since I was fifteen.
“How old were you?”
I swallow and my heart rate accelerates like a Formula One engine. I have to be careful here. I don’t want to cause trouble for Elena. I study Mom’s face, trying to judge how she’ll react. Should I lie to her? Could I lie to her? And part of me knows I lied to her every time I saw Elena and told her I was studying with a friend.
Mom’s eyes are piercing. “Tell me. How old were you when this all started?” she says through clenched teeth. It’s the voice that I’ve only heard on rare occasions, and I know I’m doomed. She will not stop until she has an answer.
“Sixteen,” I whisper.
She narrows her eyes and cocks her head to one side.
“Try again.” Her voice is chillingly quiet.
Hell. How does she know?
“Christian,” she warns, prompting me.
“Fifteen.”
She closes her eyes like I’ve stabbed her, her hand flying to her mouth as she stifles a sob. When she opens them, they’re filled with pain and unshed tears.
“Mom…” I try to think of something to say to take that pain away. I step toward her and she holds up her hand to stop me.
“Christian. I am so mad at you right now. I suggest you don’t come any closer.”
“How did you know? That I lied,” I ask.
“For heaven’s sake, Christian—I’m your mother,” she snaps and dashes a fallen tear from her cheek.
I feel myself blushing, feeling stupid and slightly piqued at the same time. Only my mom can make me feel this way. My mom. And Ana.
I thought I was a better liar.
“Yes, you should look shamefaced. How long did this go on for? How long did you lie to us, Christian?”
I shrug. I don’t want her to know.
“Tell me!” she insists.
“A few years.”
“Years! Years!” she shouts, making me cringe. She so rarely shouts.
“I can’t believe it. That fucking woman.”
I gasp. I have never heard Grace swear. Ever. It shocks me.
She turns and paces to the window. I stay standing. Paralyzed. Speechless.
Mom just cursed.
“And to think, all the times she’s been here…” Grace groans and puts her head in her hands. I cannot stand by any longer. I step toward her and wrap my arms around her. This is so new to me, holding my mom. I pull her to my chest, and she starts to weep quietly.