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“Demand?” Jaylen laughed harshly. “Is that the best you can do? You will get respect when you deserve it and you sure as hell do not deserve it. You cannot run my life, is that clear? I go where I damn well please and do whatever the hell I want to.
It is time you get that through your head. I am not one of your employees, not your puppet. I am my own person and you had better learn to accept it.” With that, he turned and strode out of the room, slamming the doors shut behind him.
James slumped back in his chair and closed his eyes. His heart was racing and his skin felt clammy. Reaching into his jacket pocket, he took out the blood pressure medicine and swallowed it down dry.
He was not supposed to be drinking at all and had promised his physician that he would cut back on everything. He was supposed to be cutting back on everything.
“You are doing too much James,” his doctor, who was also a friend, had told him. “You are supposed to be handing over the reins, not taking on more responsibilities.”
“And who am I going to hand it over to?” he had asked bitterly.
“Surely, if you told Jaylen—"
“No," he shook his head. “I do not want him to know.”
“For Christ’s sake! You have cancer and as much as it is not terminal, you are going to need treatment. He is your son and only living relative, there must be a way to bridge the gap between you.”
“He blames me for her death and I cannot say he is wrong about that. I was a damn fool who allowed his cock to dictate, to take over and now I am paying the consequences. I am old and alone. My wife is dead and my son hates me. A hell of a thing.”
A hell of a thing, he thought as he reached for the half glass of wine. He had wanted them to talk, try and be civil, and come to some sort of agreement. He wanted Jaylen to at least attend some of the meetings and put some kind of interest in the company he would be inheriting.
They had holdings all over the world. It was not just the music, but in real estate, hotels, car marts, and the villas right here in Italy.
He had an excellent team working for him, but they were just that—employees—Jaylen was his flesh and blood, his son and before anything happened to him, he wanted to make certain that his blood, sweat, and tears would not go in vain.
And the boy was right—he shook his head. His son was thirty, but he still thought of him as his boy. He had missed years of his life, leaving the rearing to his wife and the well-paid nannies.
He had missed out on so much and trying to make up for it was not working. He could not make up for the mistakes he made and they had been many.
Downing the rest of the wine, he pushed the plate away and shoved up to his feet. He had an early morning and could feel the jet lag crashing down on him. Combined with the pills he had taken and the wine, he could feel his body going lax.
Jaylen was here and that was going to have to be enough. Pushing the doors of his bedroom suite open, he went in and headed straight for the bed.
*****
The dreams came that night. The memories she had tried to suppress came tumbling into her subconscious and there was no way she could avoid them.
Her childhood and of being left at the children’s home at the tender age of five. She had started having them the very night she got there and had somehow managed to control the screams and shivers after a while.
Jumping up, she pressed trembling hands to her thundering heart, the sheen of sweat coating her forehead and the hairs clinging to her forehead. Gulping in several deep breaths, she tried to even out her heartbeats.
She was still shaking. Dammit! Swinging her legs off the bed, she stood there for a minute to get her bearings before heading into the bathroom. She used the commode and then splashed cold water on her face.
It was almost midnight here, which means it was a little before six in the US. Pressing his number, she grabbed a bottle of water and went back into the bedroom.
“I am sorry.”
“Don’t apologize. You cannot sleep. The time difference and—"
“The nightmares.” She took a long gulp of the water. “It was bad.”
“Hell. How bad?”
“Like the time I just got to that horrible place. I don’t know what brought it all back. She is dead, we know that she died a few years after dumping me at that place—"She rubbed her forehead where a headache was brewing.
“Will you be, okay?”
“Yes.” She swallowed the bile that was in her throat. “Yes. I have to be. Tomorrow is a big day. Oh Corey,” She drew a shuddering breath. “I am not weak, but I am just terrified of commitment- of caring, of putting myself out there and then having the person leaving—"
