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He gave her a thumbs-up. But though he trusted her to know the right thing to do, watching her walk away—and forcing himself to let her go without running after her to keep her safe at all costs—was the hardest battle he’d ever fought.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Though she was on the precipice of the biggest confrontation of her life, Rosie wasn’t scared. With all the Mavericks backing her up, she felt strong.
And most especially with Gideon waiting right outside for her.
Gideon. He was such a warrior—so tough, so immovable, until you uncovered the beautiful and gentle man beneath all his layers.
She could feel his love flowing to her down the sidewalk, tethering them together. A beam of light that couldn’t be broken. She wanted to turn and run back to him, kiss him one more time, feel his arms around her one more time.
But she would save that reward for when her deed was done.
This restaurant had the same crystal glassware and fancy trappings that Archibald Findley had always needed. His table was in the back, on a raised dais surrounded by a short railing.
Archie was the same polished, entitled, arrogant creep he’d been yesterday. He gazed out over the other diners as if they were his minions, his eyes dark and probing. Today’s suit was black with pinstripes, his dark hair, with just the right amount of gray to appear distinguished, was perfectly coiffed, as if a stylist attended him every morning. His nails had always been flawlessly manicured, meticulous attention given to every detail of his appearance. From afar, he looked like he’d stepped off a movie screen to dazzle his fans. That’s what Rosie hadn’t understood when she was young and naïve. Archie was all about appearance and completely lacking in substance. He was all flowery words that had no real meaning. It had likely taken him years of practice to perfect his persona.
No wonder she had fallen for it. Men and women twice her age fell for that slick Archibald Findley façade. He was so smooth, suave, and sophisticated, it was difficult to see the slime.
For years she’d blamed herself for trusting him, for not seeing through him. But the truth was that she hadn’t been old enough or worldly enough to recognize all the signs. Not until it was too late.
But she saw right through him now. And she would never let him harm Jorge.
Rosie smiled at the maître d’ as she passed him. “No worries. I can find my own way to the table.”
“I ordered a drink for you,” Archie said as she sat.
Of course he had. It was the same champagne he used to ply her with seven years ago, though she’d been underage at the time.
She set it aside, untouched. “Yesterday when I asked what you wanted from me,” she said, not at all interested in beating around the bush today, “you fed me a line about wanting to help because of the burdens of being a single parent. But I know what you really want.” She waited a beat. “You want to take my son.”
“Take him? I would never take anything away from anyone.” Archie gave her a wide-eyed look of innocence so patently false that it only enhanced the pure evil shining through. “I did my best to help your art career. Don’t you remember?”
“Of course, Archie, I remember everything.” She let herself enjoy the grimace on his face when she used the hated nickname. “I remember how you didn’t help me at all. How you sabotaged me. How you lied to me. And how you’ve never done one single thing for my son, never offered one iota of help in the seven years since the day I told you he existed. I remember how you just disappeared. Poof.” She made a gesture with her fingers like smoke vanishing into the air. “So, no, I don’t need your kind of help. Which means there’s really no reason for you to call me again.” She gave him one last chance to redeem himself by agreeing.
Of course, he didn’t take it. She hadn’t thought he would.
“Rosie.” He shook his head as though she was a major disappointment to him. “Regardless of how you feel about the past, you can’t deny that I can afford better schools, better health care, better opportunities, and all the important things our son truly needs.”
The our infuriated her, but she managed to press on without throwing the champagne in his face. “But only if he comes to Las Vegas to live with you, right?”
His eyes lit. He was so sure he had her cornered. The pompous bastard. “Jorge moving in with my wife and me in Las Vegas would make things so much easier and simpler, don’t you think? Of course, you can also move to town if you’d like to be closer to him.”
There, finally, he’d said it. She’d known it all along, but it was vindicating to have her suspicions confirmed. But it was equally horrifying, send
ing bile shooting up her throat at the thought of Jorge ever living with Archie and his wife. Never. She would never let that happen.
“Actually,” Rosie leaned forward, “let me tell you what will be easier and simpler. You will back off. Permanently.”
He looked at her like she had fewer brain cells than a fly. “Rosie, honey, I can’t, in all good conscience, do that. You know he needs me.”
Forcing herself to ignore the sickening honey, she couldn’t help but wonder where his conscience had been when he said she’d have to handle her pregnancy on her own. She could have asked him. But he would have some slick reply he’d already rehearsed. And she was done with his slick replies. Instead, she said, “He doesn’t need someone like you.”
Reaching into her oversize purse, she pulled out a duplicate of the file the Mavericks had put together. Setting it on the table, she left it there, closed. Like the elephant in the room. Like the bit of spinach between the teeth that no one wants to tell you about. Like a ticking bomb that was impossible to defuse in time.
Archie’s gaze went right to it. Got stuck there for a few seconds. Then he looked up and smiled as if there wasn’t a thing to worry about. As if nothing in a folder she brought could possibly hurt him.
“I believe you had a reason for going to Vegas,” she said, pushing him forward. Toward a trap entirely of his own making.
