Page 81 of Torrid Passion
CHAPTER 16
Lochlan
“Mom, you owe me big time for this,” I say, adjusting the sleeves of my tux.
“Honey, I’m so sorry, but I was stuck,” she says.
“You could’ve hired a model or an actor.” I’ve said that many times already.
“There’s enough drama surrounding her, I couldn’t afford to take a chance. I needed someone reliable, handsome, with impeccable manners and someone who’s intelligent,” Mom reminds me. “Only my son would do,” she grins.
She knows I love her and I wouldn’t refuse. Now, she’s using it against me.
I cross my arms over my chest, impatience rolling off me. “Well, she’s late. By half an hour.”
Mom looks at her pink gold Cartier Ballon Bleu watch encrusted with diamonds. “I know, I know,” she shakes her head, rolling her eyes. “I asked the prima donna to meet us thirty minutes earlier, knowing full well she’d be late. I didn’t expect it would be this bad. Today is a record.”
After waiting in the limo, my mother, father and I are stretching our legs. Being tall can be a liability.
“Mom wouldn’t drag you into this if it wasn’t really important,” Dad comes to his wife’s defense. “You know what this means to her.”
Dad’s gaze locks onto Mom’s. Affection veils his eyes and they both smile at each other. After so many years of marriage, he still loves her like crazy.
“Which is why I’m here,” I tell him.
“Watch it, Lochlan,” Dad warns.
“Cut him some slack, Hugh,” Mom says. “He’s my favorite son.”
“I’m your only son.”
“A mother forgets these things,” she jokes.
I roll my eyes.
“This evening hasn’t even started and I can already tell it’s going to be a train wreck,” I say.
“Don’t be so negative,” Mom shoots me a stern look before swatting my arm.
I respond with a cocked eyebrow.
“Her family contributed a lot to my charity.” Mom’s green eyes soften. “The money is going to help a lot of women.”
That’s the only reason why I’m here in a parking lot in the middle of LA with my parents waiting for Bliss Merry Buttercup, aka last year’s Miss America.
“I know, Mom,” I approach her and grab her in my arms. “As I’ve said, that’s why I’m here,” I place a soft kiss on her forehead.
“I don’t think anyone other than you can handle her,” Mom admits.
“From the sound of it, I think Jordana is right,” Dad says.
In a PR move, Bliss’s father made a sizable contribution to a cause that’s close to my mother’s heart.
When Mom turned thirty-eight, she decided she wasn't going to age gracefully. She was going to fight it… just like her mother before her. There she was sitting in the office of a prominent Beverly Hills plastic surgeon, flipping through the pages of a fashion magazine, already making mental notes of a few must-have items to add to her spring wardrobe, when a woman who looked in really rough shape walked in and sat beside her. After a brief conversation with a fifty-four-year-old factory worker who had endured a twenty-five-year-long abusive marriage, Mom’s life changed. Darlene Fisher had noticeable permanent facial scars, marks, bruises and discoloration. Her jaw was dislocated, she was missing several teeth and her left eye was drooping badly. Dr. Brian Turgeon was one of many plastic surgeons who donated his expertise once a month to women from The Good Shepherd Shelter. Mom said it was really hard to look at Darlene because all you could see was pain and suffering. Her horrific story broke my mom's heart. With Dad’s, mine and Harlow's blessings and support, Mom went on a mission and Beautiful Face was born. It's a foundation devoted to raising shit tons of money via two lavish annual galas to help domestic violence survivors receive free plastic surgery. I grew up witnessing my mom’s incredible power of influence. If you stand in her way, I suggest you move. She’s a bulldozer.
Dad pulls at the collar of his shirt. “Jordana, I hate to complain, but––”
“There she is!” Mom exclaims.
