Breaking Out Page 17

  “You would have killed her eventually,” Parker said vehemently. “I know what men like you are like. My father was like you. Otherwise you never would’ve let her go, just to be a prick. In my mind I was the one saving her. If you think I would’ve let her freeze to death you’re nuts.”

  Lucian laughed. “And tell me, how does a man who can’t even afford a coat get a girl off the street? You couldn’t shelter yourself, let alone her. I found you in a fucking flowerbed, hiding from the wind while she was shivering and crying over her dying mother. Exactly when would the knight in shining armor mentality kick in, Hughes? Just admit it, you had nowhere to go and you were as helpless as you’ve always been when it came to her safety.”

  “Were, that’s the key word, Patras. And I have lots of coats now. I don’t need all your money to impress her. I’m not a shmuck. All I need is a roof and some time.”

  His jaw popped. “Well, you’ve got thirty days.”

  Parker’s eyes narrowed. “You can’t contact her. That was the agreement.”

  He almost sounded like he was questioning Lucian’s word, which only irritated him more. He never broke his word. “Unless she comes to me,” Lucian stipulated, per their original agreement.

  “She won’t.”

  “Don’t be so sure, kid. And be warned, she returns to me—which she will—hurt in any way, and I’ll be coming for you.”

  “You don’t scare me, Patras.”

  “That’s because you’re still a naïve kid. But I know you want to play with the big boys and wear the big-boy pants, so I’ll cut you no quarter. Thirty days, Hughes, not a second more.”

  Chapter 16

  Bind

  A stronghold, usually created by an advanced pawn, which is difficult to break

  Lucian’s knee-length trench whipped across his legs as he stood within the shadows, just outside of the golden halo set by the streetlamp. It was a good neighborhood with a Rittenhouse Square feel. There was hardly ever crime in this section of Folsom, and most residents were affluent to say the least. She would be safe here.

  White light showed from behind her sheer drapes. He waited for even a silhouette to pass, something to let him know she was all right. There was nothing.

  Of all the difficult decisions he ever had to make, this seemed to trump all. Would he lose her? She was confused, angry, but there was a reason. He just couldn’t tell her. Once she found out the truth, she’d see his reasoning.

  He was a coward. How did one explain to the one they loved they’d been bartered like a valuable trading card, loaned out like a car? He had never been so disappointed in his choices, but every time he recalled that freezing afternoon he’d gone searching for her, he could think of no other option around the fucked-up position they were in now.

  During his most intense moments of arbitrage, he never experienced fear like what was living inside of him now. The clock had started. Parker would go to her—once he found her—and wasn’t it sweet that Lucian had left her so vulnerable and in need of a friend? His stomach soured, bile swelling to a point of wooziness at the mental image of Parker laying his hands on her, hugging her, holding her, listening to her while she cried about what a prick Lucian was.

  The chances of Parker getting his way left Lucian light-headed with worry. He wouldn’t break his word, couldn’t. It was written into his bones to always stand true to his vow. But nothing had ever tempted him more. All he had to do was go back on his word and he could fix this. But if he wasn’t a man of his word, he was only another step closer to being his father.

  Parker had played his part well. The way Evelyn described him, she saw him as an innocent man, carefree and understanding, nothing like himself. Lucian knew better. Parker was not one of life’s players simply moving the game along. He was nobody’s pawn.

  He had come from a long line of impressive men. Crispin Hughes was a name Lucian had grown up hearing from the time he was a boy. It was said by many that Folsom was run by two men under the presumption they were Christ: the two Christs of Folsom, the Gods of the city, Christos Patras and Crispin Hughes. The irony that he now was coming head to head with the son of his father’s nemesis only left more of a bitter taste in his mouth. He was too afraid to actually appreciate the irony of it all.

  Just as Lucian had been groomed to someday take over Patras Industries, so had Parker been groomed to take after his own father. The only difference was Patras was still a name people respected, trusted.

  The Hughes scandal was huge. Crispin Hughes tried to swindle conglomerates like Marquee, Velázquez, and Typhoon Industries. The minute he was caught in foul play with one, he was caught by all. Everyone stopped to analyze their doings with Crispin Hughes, and once one lawsuit came, the rest followed.

  Lucian was a young man when the news broke of Hughes. Police had swarmed their family’s mansion and taken him out in cuffs and a smoking jacket. Every channel reported on how the man never dressed, because he was certain they had no case. Within a day the courts commandeered his possessions and all of his computers were confiscated. Once the investigation started, Crispin Hughes lost a bit of his cocky attitude. The trial went on for years, and then one day, the news broke that Parker’s father shot himself.

  Loretta Hughes was a sweet woman, far too gentle for the likes of her husband. The bulk of the Hughes family had left Folsom during the trial, leaving only Crispin’s wife and young son to handle the press. Parker was far younger than Lucian, but he remembered seeing his picture on the front of the Tribune and thinking, he’s just like me. That could have been me.

  Lucian had been going through his own grief at that point, still mourning the loss of his mother and trying to overthrow his father in a bout of misplaced anger and revenge. Men like his father and Crispin Hughes loved the industry. They were the visionaries of their time, gifted beyond measure when it came to business and cursed to the depths of their souls when it came to love. If something couldn’t be measured in material worth it didn’t exist in their eyes.

  After years of watching the mockery of his parents’ marriage, Lucian had no intention to follow in his father’s footsteps in that realm. He would date, perhaps cohabitate, but for the most part he’d always intended on remaining untethered.

  Evelyn changed all that. He didn’t want anyone else and was certain he never would. He sensed her antipathy to the finality of marriage. He knew she wasn’t ready. He likely would have never proposed so soon had it not been for Parker’s interference.

  The man had placed him in a stranglehold, forced his hand in matters where she was concerned, and while Lucian assumed proposing marriage was a precise way to avoid separation, he had been wrong, an outcome he now believed Parker had predicted.

  It was beyond frustrating to think Parker knew Evelyn. He knew Scout, some confused kid, a scrapper looking for something more.

  Lucian knew Evelyn, the eloquently spoken beauty whom any man would be proud to stand by. True, Parker had him at a disadvantage and had somehow managed to manipulate him and take the upper hand, but Lucian had faith in Evelyn. She was better than him and she was better than Parker. She would be the only one capable of ending this, and he had to believe she would make the right choice. She wasn’t Scout anymore, and surely she realized that.

  The light behind the curtain switched out and with it, Lucian extinguished his hope that this was just a nightmare. Twenty-nine days to go.

  ***

  Lucian looked over the portfolio Jeff Burnet placed in front of him. He had been staring at it for over five minutes now, seeing the man’s expertise in advertising displayed beautifully in the contrasting colors highlighting the plans and drawing buyers’ eyes to the pros of the project, yet all he wanted to do was tear it to pieces and demand he come up with something better.

  It had been four excruciating days, and things had not improved. He’d gotten worse, far worse. He hated being in the pent
house by himself. His first hour home he’d thrown her craft desk and broken it. He asked Dugan to order a new one. Evelyn’s presence was everywhere, on their sheets, in his closet, under his sink. There was no place she hadn’t left her mark.

  He decided only to use the penthouse for sleep, coming to the office before the doors opened to the public and working long past closing. He’d taken to having his meals delivered to his desk, dining out by himself for late suppers, and last night he had lost his nerve to go home to his empty condo altogether.

  He spent the night at his place of work, sleeping on the stiff couch in his office. He showered and shaved that morning in his executive bathroom and found several suits hanging in his closet, a cautionary expense from his days as a bachelor. Freshly laundered dress shirts hung like empty skins all in a row. The lower drawer of his desk was filled with brand new T-shirts, underwear and socks still in their packaging and tissue. How much longer could he go on like this?

  Jeff cleared his throat. “Would you like me to come back, Lucian?”

  Lucian turned the page, not really paying much attention to what he was seeing. Jeff had worked for him for almost a decade. He trusted his ideas, which had been validated by their profits over the past several years. “No.”

  He turned the page again. Everything was perfect. Lucian could find no room for improvement, which for some reason pissed him off. He shut the portfolio with a slap and met Jeff’s eyes. “Do you feel this is the best you can give me?”

  The man’s expression hitched. He seemed to consider his answer before giving it. “I put three months into that, Lucian. It’s everything you asked for.”

  “That doesn’t answer the question. Is this the best you’re capable of?”

  Jeff frowned. “Do I feel it’s the best I’ve ever done? No, but I’ve done over one hundred pitches for you. Every one can’t be the best or my favorite—”

  “Why?” he snapped. “Why shouldn’t everything you put on my desk be the best, Jeff? Do I come in here, day after day, and give only a percentage of what I’m capable of? No. I work my balls off so that things can get done around here and you and all the other people who depend on me can get paid.” His voice had risen by the end of his reply.

  “Look, Lucian, if you want me to give it another look—”

  “I want the best you’re capable of! Why should I have to wait longer because you slacked off? I gave you three fucking months to do your job. You should have done it right the first time!”

  Jeff stiffened. “That’s damn good work there. Go ahead and look around if you think you can find better.”

  “Perhaps I will,” Lucian threatened back. “Maybe it’s time to rearrange some things around here. People are getting a little too cozy, and I won’t have Patras taking the brunt of everyone’s indolence. I expect perfection and nothing less.”

  “Are . . . are you implying you want a new ad exec? You wanna look around, fine, but my contract isn’t up for another six months.”

  Lucian didn’t want a new advertising executive. He liked Jeff, liked his work, liked his wife, Debbie. He was invited to his children’s birthdays.

  “Contracts . . .” he mumbled, leaning back in his chair.

  Jeff waited a few minutes. “Lucian, are you all right? You don’t look too good. Your color’s a bit off and you look tired. Maybe you should call it a day, go home and get some rest.”

  “I don’t need rest, and the last thing I need is to go home.”

  Several moments passed in awkward silence. The mood of the room seemed to settle and slowly right itself. “Look, if you want me to redo the ad I will. I can have something back to you by the end of the week. I have some other dormant ideas I was playing with that I could expand on and see how you like them—”

  Lucian pushed the portfolio forward. “No, this is fine. It’s good. Take it down to Silberstein and have him order the space. I want it up by April first.”

  Jeff’s mouth opened and shut. He took the portfolio and stood. “You sure?”

  “Yeah.”

  He hesitated a moment before leaving. “Look, Lucian, this weekend we’re having a little get together. Deb and the kids would love to see you. Why don’t you try to make it?”

  Lucian forced the muscles of his face into closest impression of a smile he could manage. “I’ll let you know. Thanks, Jeff.”

  A while later, after he finished up with Jeff, his intercom buzzed. “What?”

  “Mr. Patras, Mr. Callahan’s here to see you.”

  He sighed. “Send him in.”

  Lucian eased back in his chair. A moment later the door opened and Shamus stepped in, his perpetually flushed cheeks lifted. “Luche, how’s it hanging?” As he took a seat at the club chair in the corner, he cocked his head, a crown of golden curls falling to the side. “Did you sleep here?”

  Lucian stood to join him. “Yeah. I’ve been avoiding the condo. Evelyn and I are on a break.”

  Jamie’s eyebrows lifted. “Since when?”

  “Four days ago.”

  “That explains the rumors.”

  Lucian frowned. “What rumors?”

  “That you’ve lost it.”

  He wasn’t surprised. He’d been screaming at employees all week, setting unobtainable standards, making good workers feel incapable and less than they were. Somehow he thought that would make his own life seem less pathetic. It didn’t.

  “I’ve been on a bit of a rampage.”

  “Ya think? Georgette looks one loud noise away from bursting into tears, and Seth is running around with sweat stains under the arms. Lucian, if you’re that miserable, go get her back and apologize for whatever stupid thing you’ve done.”

  “It isn’t that simple.” He settled into to couch and crossed his legs at the ankle. God he was tired.

  “Is it really that complicated?”

  “Yes.”

  Jamie waited for an explanation. He was Lucian’s best friend. He might as well tell him before he heard it from Slade. “I made a deal. When Evelyn left last fall and I couldn’t find her, I made a deal so that I could save her.”

  “What kind of deal?”

  “The stupid kind. I’d spent days scouring every alley, dilapidated building, and shelter in Folsom. She was nowhere to be found. The temperature dropped to below freezing and I panicked. She has a friend, from the shelter, a guy.”

  “An ex-lover?”

  Lucian’s eyes narrowed. “No. She’s never been with anyone but me. He’s just a friend, but he’d like to be more.”

  “He’s homeless?”

  “Was. I ran into him on the street and asked him if he knew where she was. He had a better guess than anyone. He knew, but refused to tell me.”

  “Was she safe?”

  “No. The little prick knew that too. He had no way of helping her and we were due another blizzard. He made me an offer. If I agreed, he’d tell me where she was.”

  Jamie’s head slowly drew back. Hesitantly, he asked, “What was the offer, Luche?”

  He sighed and shook his head. “I had to give him a job.”

  “That’s not bad.”

  “Wait. I had to give him a job so he could make money and get himself off the streets. I gave him a job as a bellboy at Patras, but told him the minute he fucked up it was done. That was only one part of the deal.”

  “What’s the other part?”

  “When he was ready, once he felt he’d gotten back on his feet, I had to break up with Evelyn for a month. One month, no contact, during which time he could take a shot at her.”

  Jamie’s brow crinkled as his upper lip seemed to snag on an invisible hook. “Are you out of your mind?”

  “No. Yes. I was desperate. It was fucking freezing. It had been over a week and I’d used every resource I had to find her only to come up short. What choice did I have?�
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  “There had to be a better one than that.”

  “Tell me,” he said in exasperation. “You tell me what the better choice was. He had me by the balls, Shamus. What was I supposed to do, let my dick and my pride get in the way of saving her life? I love her and there was no way she was coming out of that decline without my help. Her mom’s sick. She was dying and Evelyn would have frozen to death right beside her rather than leave her.”

  “What’s wrong with her mom?”

  “A ton of shit; mainly, she’s an addict. I found her lying on nothing but cardboard, coughing up blood, in an old abandoned mill by the tracks. I thought she was already dead when I got there. Evelyn wouldn’t leave her, so I carried her out of there, had Sheffield take a look at her, and now she’s checked into rehab. She hates me. She would’ve died had I not carried her out of there, but she’s too fucked-up to care. The woman is a selfish cunt and uses Evelyn, but she’s all Evelyn’s ever had and she won’t abandon her.”

  “So now what? Evelyn found out about all this and dumped you?” Jamie asked.

  “No, not completely. There were conditions to the agreement. A bellboy makes practically nothing. Sure, Patras employees are paid about twenty percent above the norm, but do you know how long it would have taken to get an apartment in even the shittiest part of Folsom on that salary? I didn’t think there was much of a rush. To protect myself further, I stipulated that the minute Evelyn agreed to marry me, all bets were off.”

  “Marry you? Lucian, since when are you the marrying type?”

  “Since Evelyn. I love her. Why shouldn’t I marry her?”

  “Because you’ve never been with anyone longer than a year.”

  “I was with Monique for three years.”

  Jamie rolled his eyes. “Yeah, you, her and Slade playing your twisted game of house doesn’t count. Marriage is between two people. There’s no gray area to escape to when things get tough. You know this. I remember when we were kids, every time your mother would cry because your dad ran off somewhere with Tibet, you’d swear you’d never get married.”