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His father was stillalive and living in a country home his son had bought for him. NashHamilton was private and stayed away from the press unless absolutelynecessary.
He didn’t givepersonal interviews. He was considered a financial genius and hadbeen featured in Fortune 500 magazine several times. However, in allthe articles written about him, there was nothing about his personallife.
He’d beenphotographed with several well-known actresses, a Supreme courtjudge, a few lawyers and even a European princess, but he hadn’tbeen romantically tied to anyone and his relationships were notlong-term. That told her he had issues with commitment. The man wasbrilliant, but as cold and hard as ice.
Taking a sip of hertea, she felt a shiver along her spine. She had a feeling she wasgoing to have to prove herself to him. She’d be given threemonths’ probation and, during that time, she’d have toprove to Nash Hamilton she was worthy of the task or she would beout, no questions asked.
Chapter 2
He took off hiscashmere jacket in the foyer of the elegant country home and handedit to the housekeeper. "Where is he?" The clipped tone hadthe woman flinching.
"He’s inthe sitting room, sir."
He strode off,leaving the woman staring after him. Carefully hanging the jacket up,she escaped into the kitchen to finish preparing the meal.
The man sitting on achair and looking out the window was a shadow of the man who hadreigned terror on Nash’s life for as long as he could remember.
“You came.”His deep voice was raspy, no doubt due to the years of substanceabuse. He was clean now, due to the thousands spent on the expensiverehab center Nash had paid for.
“You knew Iwould when you told the doctor you wouldn’t eat anything.”Standing just inside the doorway, Nash gazed at him. “What’sthe problem? The expensive meals and housekeeper I pay for not goodenough for you?”
Silas winced at thecold expression on his son’s face. He’d tried to offerapologies and excuses for his behavior in the past, but they had beenthrown back in his face with the icy warning not to bother tryingagain.
“I’mdepressed.” He spread his thin hands wide. “I know youdon’t care-“
“No, I don’t.”
Silas tried to blockthe wave of despair at the blunt words. He didn’t deserveanything from his son. He’d abused him over the years becausehe’d blamed him for his beloved wife’s death. “Thedoctor is suggesting that I see another therapist.”
“That can bearranged. Anything else?”
“I was justgoing to sit down to supper. Is there any chance-“
“Nonewhatsoever.” Nash said coldly. “I just dropped by to findout what the emergency is and now I know you’re not about todie, I have more important things to attend to. Enjoy your meal. I’lltalk to the therapist and arrange for a visit.” Without agoodbye, he turned and walked out.
Silas resumed hiscontemplation out the window, a gloomy and desolate expression on hisface. His lifestyle had added years to him, making him look mucholder than sixty-five. He was six foot three, but had seemed toshrink over the years.
His once-bright eyeswere now dulled with pain and regret. Over the past ten years, he’dbeen trying to make amends for the things he’d done. AfterMargaret had died giving birth to their son, he’d gone througha stage where he was maddened by grief.
He’d blamed thebaby and had contemplated giving him up for adoption. His wife hadbeen told the danger of carrying a baby to full term and had kept theinformation from him. She’d been so excited about gettingpregnant that he’d been caught up in it all and made sure sheate right and visited her doctor every two weeks.
Then it was time forthe delivery, three days of torture for him. She’d died givingbirth to their son and that was something he couldn’t come toterms with. Margaret had passed on the straight nose, the sculptedcheekbones and aristocratic lips to their son.
He’d seenglimpses of her whenever he looked at him and it had been unbearable.He’d somehow managed to go on, but the grief of losing the onlywoman he’d ever loved had stayed with him.
Over the years, he’ddeclined until he’d started taking drugs and drinking to dullthe pain. It hadn’t worked of course. He’d lost his joband his home, and ended up living in a crappy apartment on welfare.
He’d taken hisgrief out on his only child, making his life a living hell everysingle day. He’d done odd jobs around the area in order tosupplement the tiny income sent to him by the state.
He wasn’tsurprised to feel tears running down his cheeks as he looked back andremembered. He’d forced his son to leave the crappy apartmentand was ashamed to realize he’d been living on the streets. Thebattered boy had become a man and had pulled himself out of thegutter to become one of the richest men in the world.
“Mr. Silas?”
The quiet voicejarred him from his painful memories.
“What is it?”
“Would you liketo have supper in here?”
