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CHAPTERTWENTY-FIVE
Deacon woke to a blast of frigid water. The spray forced his head back against the cold tile of the shower with a thump that resonated through his already throbbing head like a sonic boom. He might’ve cussed if he hadn’t been drowning. He rolled to his side to avoid the frontal spray, choking on the water he’d already sucked into his lungs. The movement made him aware of the queasiness in his stomach, and the choking soon turned to gagging.
The water was turned off, and Nash’s voice cut through Deacon’s misery. “From what I just found in the toilet, I would say that you don’t have anything left, big brother.”
After a few minutes of trying to throw up, Deacon had to agree. He leaned back against the shower wall and took a deep breath before slowly opening his eyes. He was in the en suite bathroom of his office. Nash sat on the lid of the toilet with a grin on his face, while Grayson stood by the sink with a more solemn look.
“So it looks like you had a serious go-around with the minibar,” Nash said. His eyebrow lifted. “And the minibar won.”
“Very funny.” Deacon massaged his temples. “What time is it?”
“A little after nine o’clock in the morning.”
Deacon dropped his hands and stared at his brother, trying to figure out how he’d lost almost twenty-four hours. The answer came too quickly. Olivia. Just the name drove a knife through his heart and had his stomach clenching. He leaned up and gagged. A glass of seltzer water appeared, along with three aspirins. He accepted them from Grayson with a slight nod of thanks.
His brother waited for him to down the aspirins before asking, “So what happened, Deke?”
“Nothing. Nothing happened.” He got to his feet and leaned against the glass door for support. “I just tied one on, is all. I guess the pressure of running a big business got to be too much for me.”
A towel hit him hard in the face. He caught it and glared at Nash, who was no longer smiling.
“Cut the bullshit, Deke. You thrive on pressure.” Nash got to his feet, blocking Deacon from getting out of the shower. “So what happened with Olivia? You weren’t kidding, were you? You really fell in love with her.”
He laughed and tried to ignore the pain in his head. “Now who is full of shit? Move out of the way so I can get ready for the meeting with Francesca’s lawyers.”
“Not until you tell us what happened.”
“It’s none of your business. Now move, Nash, or I’m going to pound your ass.”
“Not likely.”
If Deacon hadn’t had the worst hangover on God’s green earth and a meeting only minutes away, he might’ve taken his brother up on the challenge. But as things were, his brother’s pounding would have to wait. Rather than fight with Nash, he stripped out of his clothes and tossed them at him before pulling the shower door closed. The hot water soothed his muscles and the ache in his head, and by the time he’d finished showering, he felt a little better. The feeling dissipated when he stepped into his office and found Nash sitting at his desk, Grayson sketching on the couch, and Donny John standing looking at the painting of the Paris lingerie shop, which had been slashed right down the middle.
“Dad?”
Donny John didn’t look away from the painting. “It looks like you have something against Paris, Deacon.”
Deacon had a lot against Paris and could vaguely remember taking a mail opener to the painting the night before, but right now he wanted to know what his father was doing there.
“How did you get here, Dad?”
Donny John finally turned to him. “You look like shit, Son.” He waved a hand around the office. “I would’ve thought that all this would keep you as happy as a preacher on Sunday. You always loved the finer things in life. Although I must say that I enjoyed my trip in that jet with the kiss-on-the-ass end. With that cute little stewardess waiting on me hand and foot, I felt just like Hugh Hefner on the bunny plane.”
Since that didn’t explain how he’d gotten there, Deacon looked at Nash.
“Don’t look at me,” he said. “It was Grayson.”
Grayson stopped sketching and turned his direct gaze on Deacon. “After what happened with Olivia, I think we need to have a family meeting.”
“I’m not talking about Olivia.” Deacon strode past Grayson and leaned over the desk to push the button on the phone. “Kelly?”
There was a click before she replied. “Yes, sir.”
“Set the meeting with the lawyers up in the conference room, please,” he said. “And could you bring me a cup of coffee?” Not more than three seconds later, the door opened, and she waltzed in with a tray of cups.
“You are getting efficient,” he said as he took a cup from the tray.
She laughed. “I was on my way in when you buzzed.” She cocked her head. “So I guess you’re done tossing your cookies.”
