“She’s experienced in politics and you are talking to your father rudely,” Isaiah countered, glowering at him. “She interns for her father and knows the ins and outs of their business.”
“No.”
“Damn you, boy—”
“No.”
“Edmund, please don’t ruin the dinner—” Adela began.
“I’m not. The suggestion is. Father’s talks of me preying on an innocent girl is.”
“How dare you talk to me that way—”
“Enough!”
A plate jumped from the force of the pounding fist on the table, crashing into pieces on the floor. Edmund’s mouth snapped shut. So did Isaiah, who flew from his chair to rub Adela’s trembling shoulders.
“It’s all right. We will table this discussion for later,” Isaiah said firmly, then sent him an accusing look. “Look what you did.”
“I apologize, mother,” Edmund murmured. “Thank you for the dinner. I have a few phone calls to make, so let me take my leave.”
“But dessert…”
His mother’s voice was so frail, but underneath it was a pleading he knew all too well—for him to just give his father a chance, for him to make it easy for all of them. In short, his father was never going to bend. Guilt wracked him up, but he swallowed it, adamant not to be swayed.
“Maybe next time.” He ignored the dismayed look and leaned to kiss her cheek, then straightened when Isaiah’s hands fisted on her shoulders. “I do need to get some paperwork done. Father, expect the deal signed on Saturday, Sunday at the latest. Goodnight.”
No one replied, making his exit less painful. His head pounded anyway, the ache forming at the base of his skull until he couldn’t take going home and wallowing over it. He popped a painkiller and headed out, wandering the streets until he spotted a gallery. Inside, the paintings brought out nothing, his soul an empty shell and unable to give him the energy he needed to jumpstart a piece.
He walked out. He sat on a café’s terrace overlooking the city lights and made his calls, saving the not-so-best for last.
“Mr. Gentry, have you thought over the proposal I sent over? I understand your expansion is happening soon and want to make sure there are no details missed.”
“Edmund, are you still working at this time of the night?”
There was no need to mention that he had only stopped working today to have dinner with his family and wished he had skipped all of that madness.
“It’s not work when it’s fulfilling,” Edmund said. “Do you have time to talk?”
The pause was enough to sense the hesitation, which was enough to put his back up. When Ford Gentry spoke, he already knew what was coming.
“I heard some rumors of your father doing something…unsavory at one of the Hastings events and I couldn’t get it out of my mind. Naturally, I investigated a bit and learned that it might not be rumors.”
“That was a long time ago,” he mused, not bothering to deny it. “Water under the bridge and as you can see, we have still been attending the important events with them.”
“Minus a fiancé.”
“And that’s a separate issue.”
“I suppose.”
“We can discuss it some more if you want to ease your mind.” An idea popped. “You love golf, don’t you? I know just the place where they can close it out for us at night so we can have all the privacy we need.”
“There’s no need to ease my mind because it’s already made up,” the man on the other line said firmly. “I’m sorry, Edmund. You seem like a good fellow and Iz speaks the world of you, but I just don’t want to get into anything that might jeopardize my reputation with them. My niece messed up a deal with them once and it wasn’t pretty. So, unless you can give me factual evidence that the rumors were made up and our family name won’t be put in a negative light again…”
Curses rang in his head, but he gulped in air and let it out slowly. Then he answered.
“I can’t give you evidence, I’m sorry, only my word that your expansion will be in good hands with us. Are you sure you don’t want to reconsider?”