Chapter 24

Vivian

I felt that piercing blue gaze alight on my body when I stepped into the tub. Saw the conflict in the angle of his jaw, in the jut of his chin, in how he looked between Felix and me before he squared his shoulders and came to some kind of decision. The hair on the back of my neck rose. Without conscious decision, I straightened. He'd already turned and stalked off by then.

I call after him, but he doesn't stop. I follow him through the conservatory, knowing I"m dripping water on the wooden floor but not caring. "Quentin, please!" I trail him into the living room and to the bar in the far corner. He uncaps a decanter of whiskey, pours himself a glass, and tosses it back. By the time I reach him, he's downed a second glass and has poured himself a third. I place my palm on the snifter. "You've had enough."

"Don't dictate to me, woman." He squeezes his fingers around the glass with such force that the skin across his knuckles turns white. He glares at me with so much anger, so much conflict, so much of everything, I reel back.

Then he looks away, and when he glances at me again, all that emotion is gone. It's replaced by that familiar mask of indifference, which is worse.

"Don't do that," I beg him. "Don't hide behind that mask of indifference. Tell me you're jealous. Tell him you want me. Tell me what you're feeling. Talk to me, Q, please!"

He lowers his gaze to my palm which covers his glass, then back to my face. There's enough steeliness in his eyes that I find myself withdrawing my hand. He instantly throws back his third drink, then places his glass back on the bar with exaggerated care.

"So that's your plan? To get drunk."

"It's as good as any."

What the—! This macho alpha male who's dominant enough that if he asked me to drop to my knees right now and suck him off I would; that man doesn't have the balls to face his own feelings? Well too bad, I"m going to make him.

"Thought you were a fighter, not a quitter." I throw that out to get a rise out of him. Not that it works, for his expression closes further.

"Not sure what you're talking about," he says in a tone that has icicles dripping from it.

Gah! I'm so frustrated, I want to stamp my foot, but that'd only feed into the impression that I'm much younger than him and immature, so I settle for firming my lips. "I'm talking about the fact you saw me with Felix, assumed the worst, and stalked out."

"I saw you with your ex—someone who, clearly, has feelings for you."

"I—" I hesitate, unsure how to explain that I, too, have feelings for Felix, but they"re not the kind he thinks. I feel a responsibility for him. The kind that had me stepping into my mother's shoes after she passed away. The kind that has me wanting to take care of Lizzie and ensure my father's medical needs are met. The kind that makes me look into his eyes and discern the hurt lurking there.

"Quentin—" I begin again, but he holds up his hand.

"What I saw out there, between the two of you… There's unsettled business."

"Ya think?" I scoff. "We were best friends. It's a little difficult to forget that we were there for each other when we felt we had no one else in the world to depend on."

He winces. And I shouldn't feel sorry for him. I shouldn't feel so drawn to him, so empathetic, so understanding that he couldn't have had it easy after Felix's mother left, trying to bring up a son on his own while trying to keep his promise to his country in terms of his service career. There's also the fact that he saw the opportunity when Felix walked away from me and moved right in. All of it shows he doesn't care about societal rules. He goes after what he wants. So why… is there conflict on his features?

"I… I didn't mean to hurt you with my words," I murmur.

"You didn't. You were telling the truth. I failed him… And now, I"m going to fail him again."

I open, then shut my mouth. I'm not sure if I can say anything to help the situation. It's best I let him speak.

He pours his fourth drink, but instead of drinking it, he stares down into his glass. The silence stretches but I know it's best to not speak and let him think through the thoughts in his head.

"I've made it clear; I want you," he finally growls.

"No argument there."

His lips twist. "But seeing the two of you together, I realize... I realize, I need time to get Felix on board with the situation."

"You mean?"

"I'm saying," he looks up at me and there's a decisiveness to features. "I mean, I"m going to postpone the wedding."

"So that's a good thing, right? That he postponed the wedding?" Zoey's face stares back at me from the screen of my phone.

That's what I have been telling myself. I know Felix is not the man for me. As for his father? I have conflicted feelings where Quentin is concerned. I cannot ignore the powerful pull I feel for him. At the same time, I am stricken by guilt that I am so attracted to my ex-boyfriend"s father. It's so wrong that I compare the two of them in my head.

Felix is younger, has less life experience. He is finding himself, as am I. While Quentin… He's finding himself in a different way. I sense the deep-rooted hurt in him, and not just from whatever happened between him and Ryot when they were in the Marines. It's something more than that. Something on a personal level. Perhaps something to do with his wife? He never talks about her. Was he so in love with her, that when she left, he never got over her?

Felix, too, never talks about his mother. All I know is that she left when he was two years old, and he's never seen her since. Felix is convinced Quentin is responsible for her leaving. But I know a lot of Q's behavior was down to the fact that he was focused on his duty to his country and also that he suspected Felix's mother was cheating on him. It's not my place to tell Felix that though.

The situation is more complicated than what I envisaged when I agreed to marry Quentin. I knew I was attracted to him, but I hadn't accounted for my growing feelings for Q.

Or that I'd get to know the man behind that gruff exterior. Someone who cares about me. Someone who"s struggling to reconcile his differences with his son. Someone who"s remorseful about the incident that caused the death of Ryot's wife. Someone who does not regret his past as a Marine. There are so many facets to Quentin, and that makes him more of an enigma. It makes him complex and confusing, and I'd be lying if I said I don't want to solve the puzzle that"s Quentin Davenport.

"Vivian?" Zoey's voice cuts through the thoughts in my head. "You there?"

"Yeah, sorry, I'm confused. I thought he needed to marry me in order to firm up his role as the CEO of a company within the Davenport Group."

"There is that." She nods slowly. "So, what's he going to do about it, you think?"

"I don't know." When I woke up this morning, the house was empty. Quentin must have gone to work. Not sure where Felix is… He's probably sulking that I left him to go after Quentin last night. After that declaration, Quentin went up to his room. I retreated to mine, took a shower and, despite thinking I wouldn't sleep a wink, I drifted off as soon as I laid my head on my pillow. And since I got fired from my job, I have nowhere to be.

"What are you going to do now?" Zoey searches my features.

I being to pace. "I have no idea." Lizzie"s on a tour with the ballet school. My father"s on an outing with his new caretaker. Apparently, now that I have money, neither of them need my presence. Quentin was right. Time is the one thing money can't buy. Something that's sinking in now.

"You could… paint?"

I stop pacing and stare at her. "Paint?"

"Isn't that the one thing you said had suffered all these years? Now you have the space to do it."

"I… am not sure I'm in the mood for it."

"I'm not a painter, but I do deal with writers, and what I"ve learned is that when you are at your lowest, is when you're able to create the best," she offers.

I half smile. She"s right. The last few years, the only way I've managed to survive is by channeling all of my angst into my paintings. Granted, I didn't have that much time to explore my creativity, but whenever I managed to focus, I was happy with the results.

Zoey looks away, then back at me. "I wasn't going to share this yet, but given the circumstances, I think I should."

"What is it?" I frown.

"Remember the pictures I took of your paintings?"

I nod slowly.

"My friend, the gallery owner, loved your work."