Chapter Seven

Chapter Seven

“Hello, princess,” said Deacon, his mouth curling ever so slightly. His smile often held a mocking tint, but fortunately not when he looked at me.

As a child, I’d automatically accepted the presence of my father’s other personalities—or alters, as they were referred to. I’d played games with young Freddie. I’d baked cookies with the very maternal Maggie. I’d hidden behind Deacon while he yelled at whoever had upset Simon or me, which was often my mother. And I hadn’t thought anything of it—it had been the norm to me. Until I went to live with Melinda and Wyatt.

They’d educated me on Dissociative Identity Disorder—or DID—so I knew enough about it to understand that I had no need to be afraid. Simon’s alters weren’t varying degrees of Mr. Hyde. They were his protectors, in a sense. They’d developed to help him deal with the horrific abuse he’d suffered as a child when he’d tried dissociating from it, and they’d made it possible for him to survive it.

There were three “people” inside Simon’s system—Freddie, who was eight, Maggie, who was forty, and Deacon, who was thirty-five. Unlike with some cases of DID, they internally interacted with each other. They even had a sort of co-consciousness, which meant that although only one alter would be dominant at a time, the others would be aware of what was going on. It seemed to make things less confusing for them.

Deacon tipped his chin toward Dane. “So this is the guy you talked about, huh?”

I nodded. “This is the guy.”

Deacon studied his face. “She didn’t tell you about me,” he correctly guessed. He sliced his gaze back to me. “What about Freddie? Maggie? You kept us all a secret?” He tutted. “That’s not nice.”

“Yeah, well, neither are you a lot of the time.”

He snickered. “I’m never nice, princess.”

Deacon wasn’t cruel or evil, but he had a “don’t fuck with me” attitude and was aggressively protective. He could be violent to those he considered a threat—I’d witnessed it firsthand.

I turned to Dane. “You should go.” Deacon could be weird if he felt he had to compete for my attention. Perhaps because he didn’t surface often, and I was the only person he liked to interact with.

A mocking smile curved Deacon’s mouth as he stared at my boss, who hadn’t moved an inch. “Aw, he doesn’t want to go. He’s worried I’ll hurt you. How sweet.” Deacon sank into the dining chair and stretched out his legs, utterly relaxed.

“I’ll be fine,” I told Dane.

“I believe you.” He leaned against the doorjamb, making it clear he wasn’t going anywhere.

For fuck’s sake. “You really should go.” But he didn’t.

Deacon laughed. “Looks like you won’t be able to push this one around.”

Annoyance fluttered through me. The thing was … I had to veil that annoyance, otherwise Deacon would jump to my defense and toss Dane out. Oh, sure, he found Dane amusing for now. That could change in an instant. Deacon was a mercurial character.

The best I could do was ignore Dane altogether in the hope that Deacon—satisfied that he had my total attention—would ignore him, too.

Deacon looked at me as I took the seat opposite him. “Freddie texted you?” It wasn’t really a question.

“He thought Simon would need me,” I said.

“He did. He was a wreck.” Deacon’s upper lip curled. “I don’t know why he lets the memories of that bitch get to him so much. She was nothing but a worthless fucking skank.”

“Agreed.”

“Corrine was the same,” he said, referring to my mother. “The only thing she was ever good at was fucking with his head. I’d say she eventually learned her lesson.”

Oh, Deacon had taught her a lesson all right.

His brows drew together as he glanced around the room. “I need a smoke. Fucking Maggie always throws away my stash. Smoking’s bad for you, apparently.”

“I thought that was just a rumor,” I quipped.

His mouth canted up into a small smile. He looked at my boss again. “You smoke?”

“No, I don’t,” replied Dane, his voice even.

Deacon shrugged. “I guess nobody’s perfect.” He turned back to me and gestured at Dane. “What about this guy? He good to you?”

“I wouldn’t be dating him if he wasn’t,” I carefully answered.

“True.” Deacon’s gaze cut to him again. “If you hurt her, you deal with me.”

“Understood,” said Dane.

Deacon squinted. “No, I don’t think you do really understand. But you will if you ever harm her.” His eyes met mine again. “Simon wants to talk to you now.”

I held back a sigh of relief. “Okay.”

“It was good talking to you, princess. You come to me if Mr. Boss Man here upsets you. Got me?”

“I got you.”

He nodded, satisfied. His gaze went out of focus as his head flicked to the side. His brow creased with a brief lash of pain. He blinked a few times, almost as if he had something stuck in his eyes. Then my dad was looking at me. He straightened in his seat and pulled his arms tight to his body.

“Hi, Dad,” I said softly.

He cleared his throat and gave me a faint smile. His eyes flew to Dane. “You startled me earlier.” He rose to his feet and held out his hand. “I’m Simon, Vienna’s father.”

Dane reached out and shook his hand, as cool and calm as always. “Dane Davenport, her boyfriend and her boss. My apologies for walking in uninvited. I saw Vienna run in here in a panic, and she didn’t close the door properly. I wanted to check that she was fine.”

“Understandable. I’m glad you care enough to check on her. She’s special, you know.”

“Yeah, I do know.”

Rubbing at his nape, Simon said, “Um, sit down.”

I thought Dane would make his excuses and leave, but he took a seat at the table while I made everyone drinks. They fell into a conversation that quickly turned to sports, of all things. It was as if both of them were determined to lighten the atmosphere, make the moment normal.

After handing out drinks, I returned to my seat. It was a little surreal to watch them interact so well. I hadn’t expected Dane to take my father’s disorder in stride—it wasn’t every day you watched someone switch from one personality to another. But Dane didn’t refer to it or ask any questions. He behaved as if Deacon had been a separate person who’d now vacated the room. Which, in some respects, was kind of how it worked.

“You’re coming to the barbecue on Sunday?” Simon asked him once we’d all drained our cups.

Dane nodded. “I am.”

“Good. We can talk more then.” They stood and shook hands again.

“I’ll walk you out,” I said to Dane. I wasn’t ready to leave yet. Not until I was confident that Simon was okay.

Dane nodded and followed me to the door. Outside, he turned to me. “Your father has DID?”

“Yes. You’ve heard of it?”

“A little. How long has he had it?”

“For as long as I’ve known him.” Simon had once told me he believed he’d started dissociating when he was around four or five, but I didn’t say that. Dane would only ask why he began to dissociate like that, and it didn’t seem right to relay the story without Simon’s permission.

“Who is Corrine?” asked Dane.

It took effort not to tense. “One of his triggers.” That was as much as I was willing to say on that subject for now. “I know you wanted us to talk, but it can wait, right?”

Dane stared hard at me for a long moment, almost as if he was really seeing me for the first time or something—it was hard to explain. “It can wait.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Ikept my eyes mostly on my tablet as I made notes while conversation flowed around me in the conference room. Dane had back-to-back meetings all day, and he’d wanted me to be present for most of them. It could be exhausting, but I was used to it.

I could feel his eyes on me, but I didn’t look his way. He’d been watching me all day. Watching me like … It was hard to describe. But it was like I’d become some sort of puzzle he wanted to piece together. Or something. I really didn’t know. I just knew the whole staring thing was bugging me.

Well, at least it had stopped me from spacing out a few times with worry for my father. Simon had been fine when I finally left him last night, but the nightmares would continue to come while his brain worked through everything he pulled out of his mental vault.

Once the meeting was finally over, Dane quietly informed me that he wanted to speak to me in his office. Oh, grand. Holding back a sigh, I followed him into the spacious room and closed the door. I held my tablet against my chest and crossed my arms.

Dane leaned back against his desk. “I confronted Travis yesterday about the little tale he told you. As I’d expected, he claimed you lied. He tried twisting the situation to make it sound like you were attempting to cause a divide between me and him.”

Like there wasn’t already a huge divide between them. “How very predictable.”

“Indeed. He talked of confronting you. I made it clear that the consequences he’d face would be … dire if he dared to do so. But he may ignore that warning, which is why I went to see you last night; I want you to be prepared in case he does something stupid.”

I thought about pointing out that he could have simply relayed the information via phone, but he continued speaking.

“If Travis does confront you, call me immediately.”

I nodded. “Okay.” It wasn’t like I wanted to talk to the little prick.

Dane tipped his head to the side. “Had you ever intended to tell me about your father’s condition?”

I felt my mouth tighten. He hadn’t spoken a word about Simon or what happened last night until now. He hadn’t spoken of anything that wasn’t work-related, actually. I was glad. It helped me maintain the distance I needed. But I’d known he’d bring it up sooner or later.

“I was going to tell you before the barbecue so that you wouldn’t have been confused if one of his alters surfaced,” I said.

“Can you tell me about his other alters just in case they decide to say hello?”

It was a reasonable request. “Um, okay. Freddie is eight. It’s unlikely that he’ll talk to you. He’s shy, and he doesn’t trust easily.” He’d had it the hardest of all the alters, because he’d been the one to suffer the abuse. “Maggie is forty. She’s strong and caring and maternal, so she mothers and spoils me. She’ll probably say hi to you, and she’ll be nice unless you swear. She doesn’t like anyone cursing around her.”

“Noted. Are there any subjects I should avoid when speaking to them? I don’t want to push any buttons for them.”

Surprised and grateful that he’d be considerate enough to enquire—which seemed completely out of character for him, really—I replied, “Don’t ask about Simon’s family or past, and don’t mention Corrine.”

“All right.” Dane pursed his lips. “Who is Corrine?”

I flexed my fingers. The guy was unbelievably tenacious. “My mother.”

“Why is she such a trigger for him?”

“They didn’t have a good relationship, and it didn’t end well,” I replied vaguely.

“Deacon said she’d learned her lesson. What did he mean by that?”

And I was done. “That’s not important.”

“I think it is. What did he mean?”

“You don’t need to know,” I said, throwing his own words back at him. I didn’t say it to be a bitch. I said it because it was true, and I was subtly reminding him that he was just as tight-lipped about his personal life.

Dane’s eyes narrowed. “You’re upset that I didn’t elaborate on the things that Travis told you.”

“No, I’m not.”

He pushed away from the desk and slowly stalked toward me. My pulse quickened, but I didn’t let my nerves show. I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

He stopped mere inches away from me. Those dark, all-knowing eyes flitted over my face. “You’ve been different. Reserved. You’re always the consummate professional at work, but you’ve been distantly professional since I refused to answer your question yesterday.”

Okay, it would be fair to say I’d been using my position as a sort of emotional shield to remind myself that our relationship was purely professional. I hadn’t really expected Dane to care, let alone mention it.

“I’m not upset,” I repeated. “I was annoyed with myself, not you. I should never have asked you to elaborate on what he said. It wasn’t my place to ask. I just … forgot that for a second. It won’t happen again.”

“Hmm.” Moments of silence ticked by. “I didn’t realize until last night just how much I don’t know about you, Vienna. You give people just enough information for them to assume they get the general picture.” He tilted his head. “You hold a lot inside, don’t you?”

“So do you.”

“Yes, we’re more similar than I ever would have thought.”

Um, I wouldn’t have described us as “similar,” given that—

Knuckles rapped on the door as someone sang, “Knock, knock.” It instantly swung open and Jen swanned inside, wearing a beaming smile that faltered when she caught sight of me. “Oh. I’m sorry. When I saw you weren’t at your desk, I thought you might be on your break or something,” she said to me. “I should have guessed you’d be in here.”

I didn’t realize I’d tensed until I felt the warm weight of Dane’s hand settle on my hip. That warmth seemed to seep into me and melt a little of my unease. She hadn’t come to o-Verve in the entire time that I’d worked there, so it was a surprise to see her.

She had his cell number, so what reason did she have to traipse all the way up here? It had to be important.

“I didn’t realize you were coming,” he said.

Jen looked at him. “I would have called you, but I figured that if I came here, I could kill two birds with one stone.” Her eyes slid back to me. “I want to apologize for my rudeness at the gala. It wasn’t me. I’m not that bitchy person. I just had an off-night.”

“Yeah, Dane told me you claimed it was petty jealousy,” I said.

Her lips parted in surprise. Apparently, she hadn’t expected him to tell me. She cleared her throat. “Yes. It was silly and immature and I’m sorry. It will not happen again.”

No, it wouldn’t, because I wouldn’t stand for it a second time. “Good to know. Apology accepted.” Sort of.

“What was the other reason you came?” asked Dane.

“Ah, well, I’m thinking of throwing a surprise birthday party for Kent this year, since it falls on a Saturday,” she replied. “Would you be able to make it?”

“It’s a few months away, so I’m not sure what my schedule looks like for that weekend. But Vienna could shuffle some things around for me if need be. She and I will be there.”

Her smile was somewhat brittle. “Excellent. I could use your help with the planning. You could spare me a few hours here and there, right?”

I almost gaped. She’d obviously never gotten a peek at his calendar. Or she expected him to happily cancel all kinds of meetings just for her.

“I don’t have enough free hours to give you,” he said. “Vienna’s planned events for me in the past. She can help you, if you really need it. But she’s as busy as I am, so she doesn’t have a lot of spare time either.”

Her smile dimmed, and she flicked a hand. “It’s fine. I can ask Hope to help. Thank you, though.” She shrugged. “Well, bye.” With that, she left.

Dane let his hand slip from my hip. “If she does go through with the party—and she probably won’t; Jen comes up with ideas all the time but rarely follows them through—she won’t manage to keep it a surprise from Kent. He’s a hard man to fool.”

Then the guy was much like Dane himself. Nothing got past him. I wondered if Kent handled shocks with the same ease as his brother. It still awed me how well Dane rolled with Simon’s switch of personality last night. He hadn’t even seemed spooked.

I wasn’t looking forward to the other Davenports meeting Simon. If one of his alters took the wheel, I doubted they’d all handle it with the same ease and sensitivity—especially Travis. If they made any taunting comment toward my father, I wouldn’t need to step in and deal with them. Deacon would do that, and fists would fly for fucking sure.