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Instead of commenting he took a sip of coffee.
“Don’t worry,” she said. “I’ve been there and done that. Just be glad you didn’t wake up next to some guy with tattoos of Chip and Dale on his pecs. The sight of those little chipmunks nibbling on his—” Deacon lifted an eyebrow and she stopped in mid-sentence. “Fine,” she said. “I’ll save the story for my girlfriends.” She moved over to Nash and handed him a cup of coffee. “And speaking of girlfriends…Olivia didn’t come in today. And when Jason stopped by to see her, he said her office was cleaned out. Is she moving into Samuel’s office in the design studio?”
What the hell? Did everyone want to talk about Olivia?
“No,” he said, “she’s not moving into Samuel’s office. She’s leaving French Kiss.”
Kelly froze in the process of handing his father a cup of coffee. “But why?”
“I don’t know. You’ll have to ask her. Now if you’ll excuse us.” He waited for her to walk out the door before closing it behind her. When he turned, his brothers and father were studying him with suspicious looks.
“What?” he said. “Don’t look at me like I’m responsible for her leaving. Olivia left because she finally figured out what she wanted. And it’s not French Kiss or…a bunch of rednecks from Louisiana. And I say good for her.” He took a sip of coffee, enjoying the scalding of the hot liquid, which seemed to detract from the searing pain in his chest. “And good for us. With her out of the way, we can concentrate on dealing with Francesca.”
“You did something, Deke,” Nash said. “When she came back to the house last night, she didn’t say more than two words to me before she closeted herself in her room. Later Grayson heard her crying.”
Deacon had never liked for women to cry—especially Olivia—but this time he felt more than a little satisfaction. He wanted her upset. As upset as he had felt…as he still felt. “She made her choice. She made it perfectly clear that she doesn’t want anything from us.”
“From us? Or you?” Nash got up and walked around the desk. “And I’ve got to tell you that I’m getting a little sick of you calling all the shots, big brother. You wanted to come to San Fran. Okay, we came to San Fran. You wanted to help Olivia—we helped Olivia. Now you want us to forget Olivia and help you take the company away from Michael’s only kid. Why? Because you got a little taste of power and can’t let it go? Well, I’m not quite as power-hungry as you, Deacon. I say we give Francesca what she wants and sell whatever is left.” He glanced at Grayson. “What about you, Gray?”
“Wait a minute.” Donny John held up his hands. “What’s this about Francesca and Michael’s only child?”
“Michael’s other child.”
Everyone turned to Grayson, who had spoken the words in his usual calm voice. Deacon was surprised for about a second before he remembered that Grayson had been in the design studio when Olivia had shown up and asked him the question.
“What are you talking about, Grayson?” Nash asked.
Grayson went back to sketching. “Deacon thinks he’s Michael’s son. Which is why I thought we needed to have a family meeting.”
While Donny John looked at Deacon with shock, Nash laughed. “Is that your new plan to keep control of French Kiss, Deke? Because I’ve gotta tell you that it’s almost as ridiculous as Michael willing us shares in the first place.”
Deacon didn’t want to hurt his brothers or his father, but now that the truth was out, there was no way around it. “It’s the truth, Nash,” he said.
“Where would you get that crazy notion?” Donny John’s expression confirmed Deacon’s belief that he knew nothing about Althea’s being pregnant when they got married.
“I found Mom’s pictures in the garage. Pictures of her and Michael in Paris. I guess they knew each other before she met you.”
“Of course they did,” Donny John said. “Mikey was the one who introduced us. But what I don’t understand is why those pictures made you think that you were his son.”
“Because you never mentioned Michael and Mom dating and because the date on the back of the pictures was nine months from my birth,” Deacon said. “And if that’s not enough, just look at me. I look exactly like him, Dad. Hell, I even act like him. I’ve got a bad disposition and put money before everything else.”
The right hook that Donny John delivered had Deacon stumbling against the desk and wondering if he might pass out. It took a couple blinks to clear his vision. And a couple more to find his voice.
“What the hell?” he said as he tested his jaw.
“What the hell is right, Deacon Valentino Beaumont.” Donny John pointed a finger at him. “How dare you think that your mother and I would keep such a secret from you. You were conceived on our wedding night. A good two weeks after Michael headed for California. And we couldn’t help it if you decided to come early, Deacon.”
The pain in his jaw took a backseat to disbelief. “But she wrote him a letter telling him about me.”
“She did that in hopes that he could forgive and forget. That a new nephew might heal his heart.” He shook his head sadly. “But if she had asked me before she sent it, I would’ve stopped her. I knew our having a child would only upset him more.”
Deacon stared at him, having trouble believing what he was hearing. “But why didn’t you tell us about Michael being in love with Mother? Then when I found the pictures I wouldn’t have been so surprised.”
“That wasn’t any of your business. What happened was between me, Michael, and your mother.”
Feeling a little woozy, Deacon sat down in the chair behind the desk. Donny John motioned to Nash. “Get your brother a bag of ice and a stiff drink, then you and Grayson leave. I need to talk to your brother alone.”
“I think he’s already had the stiff drink,” Nash said dryly. “And I’d like to hear this story too.”
