All He Really Needs(25)

“You really don’t like your mother, do you?” she quipped, trying to make light of an obviously difficult situation.

“What gave me away?” He smiled at her. It was an expression very similar to his normal charming grin but without any warmth in his gaze. “Was it the comparison to Nero’s murderous mother?”

She ignored his glib words and asked, “Why?”

He blinked in surprise. “What?”

“Why don’t you like her? Or more to the point, why are you so angry at her about this?” She gestured to the mess of papers in front of her, partly to indicate the mass of files his mother had sent over, but also referencing the mess with his father. “This thing with the missing heiress? That’s your father’s mistake, not hers. She’s the victim here—”

“My mother is never a victim,” he interrupted.

“She’s just as much a victim as you. Maybe more so. The way I understand it, in his original will she was going to receive ten percent. Now, no matter what happens, she gets nothing.”

“You think I’m being too hard on her?” His voice was flat.

“I don’t know. I guess I just…” She stared down at the page in front of her. One of the corners curled up, and she ran her fingers back and forth over it so it rolled and unrolled. “I get why you’re angry at your father over this. I get that. But I don’t understand why you seem to be mad at your mother, too.”

Without really meeting her eyes, he rounded the board table that dominated the room and crossed to the antique bar that stood in one corner. In her months here, she’d never seen Dalton—or anyone else for that matter—pour themselves a drink in the middle of a meeting. However, Dalton kept the bar there because that was the kind of businessman his father had been. Apparently, among Texas oil men of that generation, a deal wasn’t considered sealed until you’d shared a drink over it. It all seemed very Dallas to her.

Even though she’d never seen Griffin drink before now, he poured himself a Scotch and tossed it back quickly before pouring himself another.

Finally, he turned and faced her, the glass cradled in his hand, his legs stretched out in front of him as he leaned back against the bar. “You’re right. My father is a lying, cheating bastard and he always has been.” He took a drink before continuing. “But at least he never pretended to be anything other than what he was. He never hid the fact that he’d do anything to increase Cain Enterprises profits. He never lied about the other women. He’s a bastard, but he’s an honest bastard. My mother, however, spent our childhoods alternately pretending to be the perfect loving mother and ignoring us completely.”

She studied him with a tilted head. “What makes you think she was pretending? Maybe she really was a loving mother.”

“Let me ask you this. What would you have done in her shoes?”

His question surprised her so much, she blinked in surprise. “What do you mean?”

He pushed himself away from the bar and took a slow step toward her. “What would you do in her shoes? What would you do if your husband cheated on you?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never thought about it.” But everything inside her recoiled from the idea. She wouldn’t tolerate it. Still, every woman was different. “I guess if I still loved him, I might try to make it work. Marriage counseling. Something like that.”

“No,” Griffin said, and at first she thought he was arguing with her logic. But he took another step toward her. “No. Pretend you don’t love him at all. That you only married him for the money. Would you stay with him? Just for the money?”

“I would never marry someone just for the money.”

“Pretend for a second that you would. Pretend that you were rich already and could have married anyone, but you chose someone so ambitious and ruthless, you knew he could make you rich beyond belief. And then pretend he turned out to be just as ruthless in his personal life. Pretend he slept with whoever he wanted and humiliated you in public and in front of your friends. Would you stay?”

“No.” She felt the flame of embarrassment for his mother just listening to him. Not just embarrassment, but anger, too. At Griffin, for so ruthlessly displaying his mother’s shortcomings. Anger made her meet his gaze as she defended his mother. “But everyone is different. I can’t judge her for staying. I don’t know her well enough.”

“Well, pretend for a second that you would stay with a man you abhorred. Pretend you’d put up with his cheating and his mistresses. Pretend you’d put up with it for more than a decade because the money was just that important to you. Pretend you’re just that stubborn or proud or greedy. Now pretend that the same man who stomps all over you every chance he gets treats your kids just as badly as he treats you.”