Chapter Nineteen

Landon's POV

"Thomas Thorpe."

She's completely caught me off guard.

"For how long?"

"A long time."

She's avoiding the question.

"How long?"

I'm struggling for control. I'm grateful we're in public. I'd have already lost my temper if we were sitting at home having a cup of tea.

"It's a long story."

She's checking to see if we're alone. I watch as her eyes search the restaurant. For the first time, I'm regretting choosing to come to my favourite restaurant, the restaurant owned by Thomas Thorpe's son.

"Just tell me."

I pull out my phone to send a quick text to Lisa asking her to cancel my afternoon appointments.

"When did it start?"

"You were just a small boy." She sighs before continuing. "Your father was working all the time and I..."

She stops as if she expects me to help her, but that's not an option, I'm not making this easy on her.

"I was lonely. When you were born, I suffered from postnatal depression and your father barely noticed. He was so busy with the company."

She takes a deep breath, taking a moment to search my face for something, perhaps compassion or empathy. When she doesn't find what she is looking for she continues.

"You had a nanny who looked after you. I wasn't a very good mother to you. Thomas was regularly at the house, usually with your father in his study, drinking scotch and smoking cigars."

"He noticed that I was unhappy," my mother tells me, "and we talked. It became a regular thing. We would have coffee in the kitchen while your father was working."

I nod because I realise I haven't responded to anything she has said.

"It started out quite innocently. It made me happy. Nothing happened for a long time."

"What do you mean?" I ask. I'm not sure I really want to know what she's alluding to.

"A year after you were born, your father went away on business, and I didn't want to be alone, so I invited Thomas over for dinner. Just as friends. He missed his wife; you know she..."

"Yes Mum," I'm frustrated by how slow she is telling me this story, it's convoluted and just not getting to the point, "I know she died giving birth to Jarrod."

"I kissed him. I'd had quite a bit of wine. He didn't kiss me back. He told me he wanted to, but he couldn't because of his friendship with your father."

There are tears in her eyes now, and I wonder if I should pity her. My face is probably all hard lines as I take in what she is telling me.

"We stopped seeing each other. I didn't want to, but he didn't really give me a choice. I tried to contact him, to tell him how I felt, but he wouldn't respond. That's when I started painting. It was my distraction."

I want her to get to the point. This is tedious.

"We kept our distance for the best part of a year," she tells me, "but I loved him."

"You loved him?"

I can hear contempt in my voice. My mother is not a woman who regularly speaks of love. Most people think her cold and so hearing her talk about love in this context is beyond painful.

"Yes, I loved him. I still love him. We started having coffee again; nothing more."

"Get to the point Mum," I sigh in frustration. "What does this have to do with the company?"

"Sorry... We stayed just friends for years. You were six years old when things changed between us. Not long after Melody was born. Your father and I, we lost a baby. I miscarried."

"And?" I know I sound harsh, cold even, but I can't allow myself to feel compassion for her. There are rules, and she broke them. No matter the reasons or excuses, that's inexcusable.

She blanches but continues with her story.

"Your father was in the city when it happened, and I was at the house in Surrey. I called Thomas. It was Thomas I went to for comfort; not your father. We slept in each other's arms that night; he held me as I cried myself to sleep."

"I kissed him again the next day but this time he didn't stop me, and I didn't stop myself."

Anyone watching us wouldn't be able to tell how distressed she is, but I know, I can see it. It cuts me to see her like this.

I want this conversation to end.

"What are you trying to tell me? What does this have to do with why dad won't give Ayden the company?"

I stop for breath as it hits me as clear as day.

"He's not Ayden's father."

"No, he's not."

She shakes her head sharply.

"And dad knows?" I ask even though I don't need to ask, I already know. It's all fitting into place.

"Your father found out that we were having an affair." Her expression seems frozen into a frown as she keeps telling me what must be her deepest secret. "He found out two years ago. He demanded that I tell him everything. When he learnt how long it had been going on for, he demanded a DNA test. So, he stole a hair from your brother and had the medical division of P and P compare it to his own."

"It didn't match," I say. It's not a question. I know the answer.

"He isn't Ayden's father," she whispers it as if she could continue the lie a little longer if she said it quietly.

"That's why he won't let Ayden have the company," I say with a shake of my head.

"He loves your brother very much, but it's not enough," she sighs again. "He loves his company more."

"I don't believe that," I say with a grimace. "It just doesn't make sense. Dad's always been supportive of Ayden."

"Yes but now your Father is dying," Mother replies.

"He hasn't actually told me what's wrong with him."

"He has an inoperable brain tumour," she tells me as calmly as she can. "Your father always promised to love your brother as his own but now..."

"Where is the brain tumour located? What parts of his brain is it affecting?"

I sound detached, but I can't allow myself to show the turmoil that's brewing underneath the surface.

"The frontal lobe," she tells me, "and it's not small..."

"And it's symptomatic?"

"Yes – he's more aggressive... it affects his memory..."

I don't know how to respond; my hands run through my hair as I try to take it in.

"So, he's doing this because of the tumour?"

"I think so, but I can't be sure," she says quietly.

I'm silent. I fix my eyes on my mother's face, trying to determine how I am going to react to this situation as if it were a game of chess, I try to find a strategy.

Mum continues. Now that she's opened up, there's no stopping her.

"I'm scared; I feel like he's unpredictable. I'm scared he'll tell Ayden."

I almost laugh humourlessly at her words, as I wonder if she's scared of the pain it will cause my brother or of the trouble it could cause between her and Ayden. I sense that her concern is most likely selfish and it's disappointing. This is not the woman I thought my mother was.

"I need to think about how I'm going to respond to this," I say with a controlled, firm voice.

"You don't already know?"

She's surprised. She expected me to rush in and fix everything. It's incredibly naïve of her, she should know me better than that.

"I have a lot to consider, mother."

I pick my phone up off the table, sending a quick text to Henry before putting it in the inside pocket of my jacket.

"This affects you, father, Ayden and me, but it also affects my best friend."

My voice is quiet. I'm cross that I'm having this conversation in the restaurant that my best friend, my brother's brother owns. I push the thought aside.

"It also affects all of father's employees, all of my employees. There is much to consider."

I stand up and tuck my chair in. I place a couple of fifty-pound notes on the table in payment for the bill. Normally I would say goodbye to Jarrod, but I don't think I can face him right now, not now that I'm in on the secret.

"I'll see you soon, mother," I say as I kiss her on the cheek. "May I walk you to your car?" I offer in an attempt to portray the perfect image of family to the other clientele of the restaurant.

"Yes please, Landon," she replies as she gets to her feet and so I offer her my arm and lead her out of the restaurant.

I consider going back to the office, but I can't bring myself to do it. It's unlike me not to want to work. I enjoy my work, but right now, that's not what I want.

What I want is to see Aurora. I want to fuck her. But right now, that isn't an option, so instead, I ask Henry to take me home.

I sit in the car, tapping my fingers on the armrest next to me. If Henry notices that I am distracted, he doesn't comment on it, and I'm grateful. I look out the window as I mull over what I'm going to do. The weather is something dreadful. I feel like I've lost control of the world around me and it's an irritating sentiment. My phone buzzes. I think about ignoring it, it's probably just an email about work, but then I think it might be from Aurora and I can't resist checking it.

It's not from Aurora though. It's from my brother Ayden. His timing is impeccable.

Alright bro, was wondering if you wanted to get some drinks tonight?

I'm grateful for the excuse Aurora has given me for missing an evening with my brother because right now I can't face him, not knowing what I now know.

Sorry Ayden, I've got a date.

His response is immediate.

You don't date!

I don't quite know what to say; he's right. He's always been entertained by the rules I have set myself. Ayden is a bit of a ladies' man. Although he always seems to go back to the same girl, in the end, an old family friend.

Tonight, I will.

My brother is not one to let things drop.

Well... who's the girl?

I consider telling him, but I'm not ready to share Aurora with anyone.

Just a girl I met in a bar.

It's not true; she's not just a girl. She's the only girl who's ever had such a tantalising effect on me. She's anything but just a girl I met in a bar.

I hope you have fun with your 'bar girl'.

He's amused, and I can almost hear the sarcasm in the words that make up his text message.

Oh, I will.

I reply as I consider what I am going to do with Aurora this evening. There's one thing I've been dying to do to her since I first had her sat in the back of my car. I turn my attention to Henry. He is focused on the road.

"Henry."

"Yes sir?"

He glances back at me through the rear-view mirror.

"Tonight, we will be picking up Miss Stone at seven. I'd like to take the limo," I tell him.

He nods his head.

"I'll arrange it."

"Good," I reply before looking back out the window.

My mood has improved slightly at the thought of what I will do to the lovely, innocent Miss Stone tonight in the back of my limo, but it's not long lasting because my phone buzzes again. I glance at the screen.

I know you will make the right decision, Landon. xx

It's from my mother. My fingers hesitate over the touchscreen of my phone. I really don't know what she wants from me.

That's not completely true. I know exactly what she wants from me.

She wants me to keep her secret.

She wants me to save the company.

She wants me to give in to my father.

She's asking me to give up some of my control but I'mnot the sort of man to fold. I never forfeit. When I play; whether it's a gameof poker, in business, sex or just about anything really, I play to win. I playaggressively. And she wants me to give in.

👔 What would you do if you were Landon?