Page 95 of Takeover

“Go off!” She runs a hand through her hair and spins around the room. “What the hell are you talking about? He was with his mother!” She yells out the last word before coming back to stand in front of me. “And whatever issues there are with Lindsay, you are going to end up punishing Vincent if you keep her away from him. He loves her, Ethan. You should have seen his face when he saw her.”

I know what she’s saying is true. My son loves his mother, and he’s too young to understand how lacking she is in the mother department. From leaving him when he was a baby, not bothering to ask for joint custody, seeing him only on her terms, to manipulating him to turn against someone he loves. I don’t even want to consider the conversation I’ll need to have with him when he demands to see or call his mother.

“I don’t need you to tell me about my son,” I say, my voice low. Tara gasps when she looks at me. Her mouth is slightly open, and I know she’s processing the rebuke, but instead of shutting up, I take it one step further. “He’s my son. Mine! I don’t need to check with you before I make decisions about him. But you,” I say, pointing at her, “you need to talk to me before you so much as feed him a cookie.”

The room goes deathly quiet after I yell my last words. I close my eyes and all I can hear is the sound of her shallow breathing. When I look at her again, her eyes have filled with tears, but she shakes her head, almost willing them not to fall.

“Wow. Okay. You should have told me that before I agreed to move in here and share your life. Isn’t that what you said? But you never had any intentions of that, did you? That bullshit about growing our family, was just that. Bullshit. I’m nothing more than extra help around here, but unlike the people who work for you, you get to fuck me. Well, fuck you, Ethan. I had a perfectly fine life before I ever laid eyes on you. And thank you for reminding me again why I never got involved with men with kids.” She walks past me, heading towards the door, but I grab her elbow before she can walk away.

When I look at the tears falling down her face and realize I’m the cause, I look away, unable to face the damage I’ve caused.

“I’m sorry, Tar Tar. Don’t walk away like this.” I wipe a stray tear, and for the first time ever, she flinches at my touch.

“Let me go,” she says. We stare at each other until she manages to pull her elbow from my hand. When she walks out of the room, I follow.

“I shouldn’t have said that. You know you mean more to me than anything. You and Vincent are my world. You know that.” The words fall on deaf ears as she runs down the stairs, but I grab her wrist the minute my feet reach the first floor. “I don’t want to argue with you. I really don’t. Can we just put this on pause until we get to Montauk tomorrow? Please.”

She shakes her head. “I’m not going to Montauk, Ethan. You already have plenty of help there, and if you need more, you can always hire them.”

“Will you stop with that? I never called or thought of you as help, goddammit. Don’t you dare put that on me. And youaregoing to Montauk. It’s our first long weekend, and Vincent wants to show you around.”

“I see you’re not above using him to get what you want.” The words are like a slap in the face and ice water all at the same time. I drop her wrist and take a step back.

“Don’t you ever, ever accuse me of that. Do you hear me?” I point my index finger in her face and take a step closer to her.

“Or what? What are you going to do? Ban me from ever seeing him again?”

“You’re standing here defending a woman who has done nothing but belittle you since the day she learned about us. Is that really what you’re doing?”

“You think I’m defending her? I don’t give a shit about Lindsay. I care about Vincent.”

“And you think you care about him more than I do? Really? What makes you such an authority on kids?”

“I didn’t say that, but he’s yours, right? All yours, and heaven help anybody who doesn’t understand that.” She raises both hands, sighs, and drops her shoulders. “I’m done here.” She grabs her purse and presses the button to the elevator.

“If you walk out of here right now, Tara, don’t bother coming back.” Her back stiffens at my words, but she doesn’t turn around until she gets in the elevator.

“I don’t do well with orders either, Ethan.” Our eyes lock until the elevator door closes.

“Fuck!” I yell into the empty penthouse. I take things a step further and kick a vase full of flowers, shattering it against the tile floor. That’s not enough to calm the rage brewing inside of me. I grab something, uncaring of what it is, and throw it across the room. It makes contact with a mirror, shattering it and throwing shards of glass everywhere.

Still unsatisfied, I approach the bar and push the bottles and glasses to the floor. Disgusted at the scene, I walk away and go to my office, slamming the door behind me. The bottle of whiskey I keep in the office beckons me. I reach for it, not even bothering with a glass.

52

“Ethan! What the hell happened here?” I hear Elizabeth’s voice and the sound of the door closing, but I don’t bother answering. With an arm still flung over my eyes, I lift the bottle of whiskey to my lips and sip. The room spins, so I drink some more. “Ethan!” Elizabeth exclaims. She tries to pull the bottle from my hands, but I hold on tight.

“You’ll have to take this whiskey out of my cold, dead hands, Lizzie,” I slur, but when I bring the bottle back to my lips, she snatches it from me.

“Give me that back.” I sit up a little too quickly, and the room shifts. I run both hands over my face and stand up. I miss a step and end up falling on my ass, right back on the couch.

“Jesus, Ethan.” She rushes to my side and takes the seat next to me. While she’s sitting, I get up, stumble to the desk and grab the bottle. Elizabeth rushes to me, and the two of us get into a tug of war over the bottle. I win and finish the whiskey with one last swallow.

“Why are you drunk in the middle of the day? And why did you text me telling me not to bring Vincent back until tomorrow? He’s asking all sorts of questions, especially after Tara called and asked to speak to him.”

That gets my attention, and I stumble to the chair behind my desk.

“Tara called?”

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