Page 57 of Her Every Fantasy

‘You don’t know what you’re talking about,’ he bit out.

‘Then tell me.’

His face closed up. For the longest time he just stared into the middle distance. My heart pounded harder with each passing second.

‘Bryce, please,’ I urged.

He blinked. ‘You know my parents abandoned us when we were kids.’

It wasn’t a question. Part of Bryce’s way of forestalling questions about his parents had been to state openly that his parents weren’t part of his life. But he’d never revealed the exact details and I’d learned not to ask.

I held my breath as he continued.

‘There are two types of Mortimers—those who would give the last drop of their blood to make the last penny for the family firm. And those who think the family name is a curse and can’t get far away from it fast enough. My father fell into the second category. He wasn’t interested in building what my great-grandfather started. He just did what needed to be done to earn his place on the board. The rest of the time he explored the true meaning of decadence and debauchery. My mother kept her nose clean long enough to produce the offspring that would ensure they fulfilled the essential quota of my great-grandfather’s family edict to access the family trust. Then they just...forgot about us.’

‘Just like that?’

He shrugged. ‘They didn’t disown us like Damian’s parents did. I think they were afraid total abandonment would earn them a black mark. My last true memory of my mother was the Christmas when I was six. She came home from a three-month bender in France and cleaned herself up in time for the family portrait. She stuck around long enough for us to open our presents before she left. That was the last time I spent any meaningful time with her.’

My heart twisted. ‘But you saw her after?’

After several seconds, he nodded. ‘She would drop in for a day out of the blue, then leave just as suddenly. It drove Gideon crazy to the point where he refused to see her.’

‘But you did?’

‘Graciela and I lived for those moments.’ His jaw clenched tight. ‘Until we didn’t.’

‘What happened?’

His eyes grew bleak a moment before he stalked towards the drinks bar, ignoring the wine that sat half-full on the coffee table.

‘The periods between her visits grew longer the older we got. One year, Graciela convinced me it would be fun to write her a letter when she hadn’t come home for about six months,’ he said tonelessly while he poured a shot of cognac. ‘She thought we could appeal to her sense of...whatever.’

A small clue fell into place about his puzzling relationship with his sister. ‘Graciela suggested it?’

‘She got the idea into her head and wouldn’t let it go. She even managed to talk Gideon into it.’

‘And?’

Time tickedby as he stared into his glass, his face a tableau of tightly held pain and anger, then he tossed the drink back. ‘She replied three months later.’

I waited to see if he would tell me. When he didn’t, I pushed. ‘What did it say?’

‘It said everything the child didn’t want to hear and everything the adult deluded himself about for a while but eventually needed to accept about himself.’

My heart twisted with anguish for him. ‘What does that mean, Bryce?’

He opened his mouth and I held my breath but when he shook his head after a tight stretch of silence, my spirits dropped. ‘She just showed me who I was.’

‘What did she say to Gideon and Graciela?’

His laugh was gritty with bitterness. ‘Nothing good, I suspect. We never spoke about it but Graciela cried herself to sleep for a bloody month after.’

‘And Gideon?’

Bryce shrugged but I saw the film of agony in his eyes. ‘If he was closed off before, he turned into a damned black hole after. Damian was the only one he responded to.’

‘That’s why you and Gideon resent Graciela, isn’t it?’

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