Page 8 of Kyle
Jason McCreary gave his son a telling look that had him backing down. He had lost his wife a few years ago, a loss that had crippled him, leaving him unable to function.
Therapy had not done him any good. Losing the woman he had loved since he was a teenager had made it impossible for him to recover. For a fleeting instant, Kyle almost felt sorry for him, but the old hurt quickly reasserted itself.
He drew a shaky breath, forcing himself to stay on topic.
"You want me to be happy, don't you? Or does that not factor in at all?" His voice was raw, the words scraping out despite his best efforts at composure.
Jason didn't answer, simply gazing at Kyle with weary resignation, as if the weight of the past was too heavy to lift but not enough to warrant change. The atmosphere was thick, the old wounds between them reopened by the evening's events, and Kyle realized with sinking certainty that his father might never truly understand.
Ever since his wife died, he had come close to having a nervous breakdown. The accident had happened while they were on their way back from a dinner celebrating their thirtieth anniversary.
A drunk driver had run the red light, plowing into her side of the vehicle. Death had been instantaneous. Jason had been in a coma for three weeks, only to wake up to the awful knowledge that he had lost the only woman he ever loved.
There were times he felt like throwing in the towel. Now was one of those times. He was a figurehead at the company.
He sat on the board, had an office, but mentally, he was crippled. He feared he would never be whole again. He was an insomniac and had stopped taking the pills because they made him feel as if he was swimming in murky waters.
He lived with his grief every day of his life and was painfully aware that he was not here for his children.
"Be grateful this is just a business arrangement." He was suddenly exhausted and wanted to be alone. "Love has a way of hurting like hell."
Grinding the cigar out, he shoved from the desk. Staring at his son, he allowed his gaze to wander over the striking face. The boy had inherited his mother's stunning beauty, and it often pained Jason to look at him and see her eyes looking back at him.
"You've been flitting from one female to the next. It's time you settle down and produce an heir."
The hurt came and then the fury. Kyle should have known he wouldn't be getting any help from this quarter.
"Thanks for nothing, Dad. Why should I expect anything from you?" He asked bitterly. "You're not really here, are you? You died in that accident that took Mom's life and..."
His voice petered off at the stricken look on his father's face. Kyle felt the shame coursing through him as his father rose unsteadily. Whitened knuckles gripped the desk.
Afraid that he was going to have an episode, Kyle started towards him, stopping when he held up a hand.
"Stay away." He whispered hoarsely. "Just stay the hell away from me."
Taking several deep breaths like a man who was gasping for air to survive, he shuffled from the room.
"Great. Just great," Kyle muttered and went to pour himself a full glass of scotch.
Chapter 3
Carly Jennings had been a child star. She had started out in the business when she was barely two years old. With an ambitious mother who was determined to live vicariously through her daughter, the little girl had been pushed, primped, and started wearing makeup at that tender age. Beauty pageants had led to auditions, hours and hours of grueling posing, walking, and speech lessons had been the order of her life.
While other girls of her age had been playing with dolls and being little girls, Carly had to grow up fast. By the time she was ten, she had had minor roles in several TV shows and a coveted spot in a major big screen movie. Her unusual coloring, raven black hair and violet eyes drew people's attention to her and were brutally utilized by her ambitious mother.
When she turned sixteen she was also addicted to "recreational drugs." That was the end of that era. She was in and out of rehab and tried to kill herself when she was eighteen.
In a surprising twist and a will to live, she turned her life around and fired her mother as her manager.
Kyle knew the story well. He and others had read about it in the various magazines. Now at thirty-two, she was at the top of her game and had confessed to him that she still felt shaky inside. They had been seeing each other for the past six months and had become friends as well as lovers.
The papers gleefully photographed them every time they stepped out in public, and it was established they were a couple.
The sex was very good. Carly was passionate and witty. She had a way of laughing at herself. She was also smart and very intelligent. He had been leading up to asking her to marry him. But now he was going to have to break things off with her and it pissed him off.
He had pleaded with his grandfather, telling him about Carly and how they would give him plenty of heirs. "She's a beautiful woman, inside and out." He knew his tone was desperate but did not care. He wanted out of the ridiculous arrangement with a woman he could not stand.
They had not been in touch with each other after the disastrous meeting and he had made sure to avoid her. But his arguments had fallen on deaf ears and the ultimatum stood. The wedding was to take place in two weeks on Thanksgiving Day, right at the manor and would be attended by only family.
