Page 35 of The Betrayer
I sat on the couch and took out my phone, sorting through the emails that had come in over the weekend that I hadn’t yet replied to. Just as it had been for the past few hours, concentrating was difficult. No one had ever spoken to me like Paul did, not since my father would take me to task for being too lazy or self-centered. Since the words had come from my son, it was impossible not to feel something. Too disturbed to concentrate, I turned my attention from my phone to the autumn sun slanting outside the windows, glinting off the skyscrapers surrounding us.
I hadn’t grown up in the city, and moving here had been a dream, a sign that I had made it. Even now, it fascinated me. Day or night, there was always something to do, something new to see, someone to meet with. The city never slept, and I often went to bed with my windows open to hear the never-ending hum of life.
I was always seeking life, always chasing it, always trying to take more in, as though if I collected enough, it would make a difference to the amount of gray I saw growing in the mirror. I wasn’t old by any stretch of the imagination, but I wasn’t young, either, and it made me uncomfortable.
On some level, I knew that was why this company was so important to me, and why I sought out young women. They both made me feel young and full of life like I would live forever. Even if I didn’t, this business I had built from the ground up was my legacy. No one, not even Paul, would take that away from me, no matter what he thought.
“Have a good day, Mr. Finlay.”
Tara was waving from the open door when I looked up, pulled from my thoughts by her voice.
“Have a good day, Tara.”
Her smile was far less uncomfortable this time, and she waved again before moving through the door. It swung slowly closed behind her.
I had always liked Tara—she was cheerful, considerate, and friendly, and the amount of work she got done was a sight to behold. Paul relied on her heavily and had never shorted her on appreciation. I might have believed he was too hard on people sometimes, but Paul always made sure to show his appreciation to those who worked hard, whether they succeeded or not.
Paul was typing on his computer, and I waited patiently until he was finished. Finally, he pushed his keyboard forward and looked over at me.
“What do you want this time, Dad? I have another meeting in twenty minutes, so I don’t have much time.”
My son’s tone didn’t hold as much anger as it had that morning. Instead, he sounded weary.
“I came to apologize.”
“Isn’t that what you came to do this morning?” One of Paul’s eyebrows rose in a cynical arch.
I took a deep breath to quell a surge of defensiveness at the biting question, but I still had to fight to keep my voice even and slow. “Well, I’m apologizing again. And you didn’t give me much of a chance to apologize this morning, either.”
Our gazes met and held, and I tried to understand what was happening behind the eyes that were so much like mine. Paul was the one person I should have been able to read better than anyone, but parts of my son had always been an enigma to me, and they still were. Especially right now.
Finally, Paul sighed. “Fine. What’s your apology?”
“Are you actually ready to hear it?”
My son’s head dipped, and he shook it. “I’m too tired to fight anymore, so go ahead.”
While not the answer I wanted, it was better than nothing, so I took it.
“First, I want to apologize for Friday night. You were right—I should have been there and a part of everything like I told you I would be.”
Paul watched silently for a long moment, then I saw his shoulders rise and fall with a breath.
“Thank you, Dad. That’s big of you.”
I couldn’t tell from Paul’s tone what else he thought of my apology, but at least he had seemed to accept it, so I continued.
“And I’m sorry about this morning and our talk about Angela. You’re a grown man. It’s your life, and your choices are yours alone to make as long as they don’t affect the company.”
At this, Paul’s eyebrow rose again. “As long as they don’t affect the company?”
The question had a faint ring of sarcasm, or maybe I heard another note, but I didn’t know why or what for. All I knew was that I recognized a trap when I saw one. Paul, too, remained silent, both of us playing a game of chicken with the other, waiting for someone to reveal something.
Paul was the first to speak.
“But you said Angela wanted me for my power and wealth, and you believe that will affect the company.”
I sighed. “Can you come over here, please? I can’t talk to you when you’re across the room like this. Let’s talk like civilized human beings.
