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Dean had confided in me that the family had been shocked when the engagement was announced. When Dean and Bryce questioned why Stone was marrying Melanie, knowing she was sick, Stone had told his brothers he wanted to give Melanie the best of life for as long as he could.
That had been five years ago. Today.
I don’t think Dean realized the significance of the day when we arrived to find Stone working so far from the office. I knew Stone resided in his uptown penthouse condo with Melanie. It made sense to me that he would have wanted to be alone, away from such haunting memories of this day. Hell, maybe I was projecting my opinion onto Stone’s action. I don’t know him.
My gaze was drawn to his stoic figure as I stared through the open door. Stone stood by the window, practically a shadow in the arch of the glow cast in the room from the outside lights—still dressed in the same Bianchi Brothers suit he wore earlier. Evidently, he’d put it, or one of his many others, back on after the pool—only a brief respite from his work. I knew about the New York Italian designers the Theron men wore. One of Dean’s closet walls was full of their clothing, even though my friend rarely put one on. I’d been invited on a trip to the Big Apple with Dean and Stone during spring break of our senior year. Stone had several meetings there, but he’d made an appointment for Dean to get a suit made for graduation. Dean had complained that the tailor already had his measurements from his prom tuxedo, but Stone wouldn’t relent.
My best friend only caved when Stone agreed Dean could bring me, the inner city girl who’d never been to Time Square or seen anything on or off Broadway. We’d stayed for a week. It had been a memorable time for me, one of them being when Stone took a couple of hours away from work to take us to dinner at Delmonico’s. I’d walked into the elite restaurant in a dress, shoes, and handbag from a store where I could not afford to buy more than a keychain. When Dean and I returned from a day in Central Park, the items had been in three boxes on my hotel room bed, courtesy of Stone.
I didn’t allow myself to believe Stone did it because he had more than a passing thought toward me. It probably had more to do with him not wanting to be embarrassed by what I might pull out of my luggage, like the two evening dresses I wore to the play and musical I attended with Dean. I purchased them for the trip from the clearance rack at a chain department store in the mall at home. However, the dress Stone had delivered made me feel beautiful and confident in how it hugged my curves with the delicate shimmery fabric. I was surprised Stone had figured out my size. At five-seven, my breasts and waist weren’t anything outside of the norm, but my hips and ass kept me from being an average build. The lower half of my body was more generous than most. Not in a grotesque way, but too often, they made finding jeans a challenge.
The room echoed with his sorrow. His emotions were palpable; they reached me across the space where I stood at the door.
I shouldn’t be here, and I’d already intruded on Stone’s home and privacy beyond the limit. Now, I’m a voyeur to his pain. A pain I can’t heal or help. And he sure as hell wouldn’t want me to.
Stone was a vault.
Resigned, I bowed my head and allowed the heat of my anxiety to seep from my lips as I took a step back.
“I suppose you’re finished treating me like a lion in a zoo.”
His voice was potent, cold, hot rum over ice, as it cracked something inside me. I halted, unsure whether to continue on my way or to the place I left—one step.
A lion. King of his kingdom. Fierce, cunning, bold. Intriguing, he selected the single animal parallel to him.
“Sorry. It wasn’t my intention to intrude.”
“But you did.”
Rooted to the floor outside of the door, I still hadn’t made my decision, so I let my gaze travel the space toward him. A quick burst of cool air filled my mouth in a silent gasp. Stone stared at me. The light from the balcony illuminated half of his face, a phantom of business. Now I’m the captive, and he the observer. His gaze made me feel naked, vulnerable. Could he read my thoughts, see my soul, hear my heart?
I gulped, side-stepped, then stepped back. Get your shit together, Aubrey.
“Um. Can I get you something?” Real articulate.
His brow kicked up. “What could you get me that I don’t already have or have access to with the touch of a button? Things I pay staff to do.”
Shit. Shit. Shit. This man wasn’t a grandpa needing a warm blanket or warm tea to settle him. Clever.
I stood there for a moment. My first inclination was to cower. Stone brought that out of people, making them unsure of themselves. The weak ones anyway. One thing I knew, Stone respected confidence, that’s for sure. At work, I knew my job, damn good at it too. Bryce often commented to me that it was my boldness and self-assurance that made him offer me a permanent spot after my internship. I hoped that same sureness got me the Assistant CFO position. I wouldn’t allow myself to whither a dehydrated flower hanging from a stem. I filled my lungs, tipped my chin up, and met Stone's gaze. “I can only imagine, today must be hard. I wish I could help ease your pain.”
What the hell? I could hear the gunpowder in my words. My brain exploded with warning signs, and I ignored them.
A stoic statue. Stone stood there now, staring at me from across the room. Only seen half his face, his expression was obscure. If one could call the slight movements, a half blink, a minuscule flare of nostrils, or the tell-tell sign, he was pissed when the left corner of his mouth drew in slightly but remained tight. The man had a poker face like no other. It had taken me half a lifetime to pick up on those tiny signals others seemed to miss, but as a bystander and observer to the Theron family, I had the liberty to study him. The other brothers too. But Stone was fascinating. He commanded all the attention no matter the room he stood in.
Grief some couldn’t swallow. They lashed out or drew into themselves. Stone worked. After his wife’s death, I didn’t know how many times that first week, month, year, over the years, I thought about him and his sadness. I’d never felt more helpless in my life. Most don’t find love, but to find it and lose it in a breath, has to kill something vital inside a person. It would smash everything within me. But I was a romantic.
Did what I’d said piss him off? Or was he exacerbated by it, me, the healthcare system…the whole damn world?
I wanted to see his mouth. His nose. His other eye. I needed to know the impact of my words. If none of the signs were there, I wasn’t any better than a gnat to him. Insignificant and not worth even the energy to swat away.
He shifted a little, enough that he was encapsulated by the shadow again. The ice in his glass clinked, telling me he had taken a drink.
The fleshy commander of my emotions sank low in my chest. I felt the weight of every heartbeat. Hell, he couldn’t even be bothered to tell me to get lost. Feeling dismissed and defeated, I turned to go.
“So, that’s it? You offer easement then go?”
I didn’t turn back, just glanced toward that broad-shouldered silhouette. “What do you want, Stone?”
