Chapter 29

Chapter Twenty-Nine

N ick rang the reception bell, glancing around as he waited.

He'd assumed the local special accommodation for the elderly would be shabby and rundown, with the cloying smell of disinfectant and overcooked stew in the air.

Instead, this place could pass for a hotel, with its manicured lawns, new paint, elegant furniture, and sweeping veranda, with floor-to-ceiling windows highlighting a breathtaking vista.

Then again, would he expect Darby Lloyd to live in anything less?

'Can I help you?' A middle-aged woman in a nurse's uniform bustled out from a back room and leaned over the desk with a beaming smile.

'I hope so. I'd like to see Darby Lloyd?'

To her credit, the nurse's smile didn't slip but he saw the fleeting surprise in her twinkling eyes. 'Certainly. Darby doesn't get many visitors so I'm sure he'll be thrilled to see you.'

Nick bit back a grin. The last thing good old Darby would be was thrilled.

'Follow me,' the nurse said.

If the outside of the special accommodation facility had been impressive, the inside of the place surprised him as he followed the nurse down a series of corridors. Paintings of every size and description covered the walls, antiques tastefully arranged on every available inch of furniture, and the rich, polished Tasmanian Oak floorboards gleamed in the late afternoon light pouring through the atrium-like ceilings.

The nurse came to an abrupt halt outside a mahogany door and gestured him forward. 'Just knock and head in. Though please keep your visit brief. Darby's blood pressure is elevated today and he has a tendency to overdo things.'

'You have my word.' Nick's wink was rewarded with a blush and a smile as the nurse bustled away, leaving him with lead in his boots.

He shouldn't have come here unannounced, especially if the old man was having a bad day. He hadn't seen Darby in ten years, hadn't wanted to after what the old bastard had done, but that was the past and if Nick wanted to move forward he had to lay it to rest, once and for all.

He took a deep breath, knocked twice, and pushed the door open. 'Mr Lloyd, it's Nick Mancini.'

He'd hated this man for years, had mentally prepared on the way over to face his nemesis. What he hadn't prepared for was the swift rush of compassion for the frail old man sitting in a recliner, propped up by a mountain of pillows, his eyes closed.

He'd never seen Darby anything but overbearing, arrogant, and mean, lording his wealth over everyone foolish enough to get close to him and anyone else who crossed his path.

But that man had disappeared beneath a plethora of wrinkles and a greyish pallor that suggested a long-standing illness.

Anxious to get this over and done with, Nick cleared his throat and stepped into the room. ‘Mr Lloyd? It's Nick.'

Darby's eyes flew open, their feverish glint a startling contrast to the pallor of his pasty skin. 'What the hell are you doing here?'

'We need to talk, clear the air.'

'I've got nothing to say to you so get out.'

Still the same cantankerous fool, but there was no way Nick was leaving without having his say.

'I will, but before I go, you need to listen.' Nick kept his voice devoid of emotion, not wanting to agitate the old guy further considering he'd now flushed an ugly crimson.

‘Listen to you about what? About you marrying my daughter? About bringing disgrace on this family? Dragging our name through the mud?' Darby sat bolt upright and shook a fist at him. 'I don't want to hear it. You've won, damn you. Isn't that enough?'

Clenching his fists, Nick shoved them deep into his jacket pockets, not willing to show the slightest indication he felt anything other than indifference for Darby's poisonous barbs.

Before he could utter a word, Darby pushed up from his chair, his neck muscles rigid, his eyes gleaming with a maniacal edge. 'Just because I'm stuck in this godforsaken place, don't think I'm stupid. I know what you're up to, marrying Brittany out of spite, taking your revenge on me.'

He stabbed his finger in the air, tottering slightly. 'That stupid girl deserves everything she gets for running around with the likes of you. She won't get another penny out of me now. I've given her more than enough to pad her new life in London. So if you were hoping for a silver lining to your marriage, too bad. You can both go to the devil.'

Nick took a step back, not wanting to believe what he was hearing but, like onlookers at an accident, drawn to the horrifying carnage. The extent of Darby Lloyd's hatred didn't shock him half as much as his total disregard for his only child, and if the old guy didn't look as if he had one foot in the grave, Nick would willingly give him a shove in that direction for his callousness towards Britt.

Instilling a calm he knew would drive the old coot mad, Nick said, 'You're wrong. Our marriage has nothing to do with you or what happened in the past. She's your daughter. Don't you care enough about her to at least maintain civilities with me?'

"Fuck off." Darby flushed puce, staggered, and flopped back in his chair, flipping Nick the middle finger.

Nick shook his head in disbelief. He'd been wrong to come here. Time hadn't soothed the old man's rampant prejudice; it had festered and grown until he couldn't see reason.

'Get out, Mancini, and don't come back.'

Nick opened the door. By the old guy's shallow breaths and mottled red cheeks, he should probably send the nurse in before he left.

'One more thing, Mancini.'

Nick paused on the threshold, eager to get out of this place and back to Britt. He could tell her all of it now, because nothing either of them could say or do would make an ounce of difference where Darby was concerned.

'Yeah?'

'I hope you rot in hell for going near my daughter in the first place.'

Without a word, Nick walked out and didn't look back.