And maybe, Shane told himself, that was the main reason he just couldn't bring himself to get close to his father now. Patrick was trying to make up for his failures as a parent and slowly, each of the Elliott kids was coming around. But Shane held back-because he'd never been able to forgive the old man for what he'd put Fin through when she was just a kid.
He leaned back against the cool, slick chrome of the elevator wall and closed his eyes, remembering. Shane could see Fin as she'd been at fifteen, beautiful, trusting, with bright green eyes filled with anticipation. Until she'd made the mistake that Patrick wouldn't countenance.
She'd become pregnant by the son of another wealthy family, and neither side wanted their children getting married for the sake of a child they hadn't planned.
Though their mother had cried and sided with Fin-something none of the children knew until recently-Patrick had been adamant about saving the family's "good name." He'd shipped Fin off to a convent in Canada with as much feeling as a man who dropped off an unwanted puppy at the pound. No one had been able to reach Patrick. The old man never backed down from a damn thing if he believed he was right-and he always believed he was right.
Fin was forced to give up her daughter at birth and Shane would never be able to forget her pain, her misery. Just as he was pretty sure he'd never be able to completely forgive Patrick for causing it.
The elevator dinged as it reached the executive level of the EPH building and the doors slid open with a whoosh.
"Might as well get this over with," Shane muttered and walked into a very different atmosphere than the one found on the eighteenth floor. On the twenty-third, the carpeting was subdued, the walls a soft beige with cream trim and the furniture was elegant antiques. Even the air smelled different up here, he thought, more … rarified, he supposed.
But then, that's what Patrick had always been concerned about. How things looked. The perception of the Elliott family. Which was why it had taken Fin too many years to reconnect with her long lost daughter.
At least that had come around and turned out well. Now that Jessie was finally where she'd always belonged-with them-Patrick had at last accepted and welcomed the girl. And the pain Shane had seen in Fin's eyes for too many years was finally gone.
Knowing Fin was so happy had made dealing with Patrick easier than it used to be.
Shaking his head, he wondered where all the philosophical thoughts were coming from. Hell, he was wasting time. He still had to get home and change for his date with … what was her name?
Grumbling, he knocked briefly on the closed door to Patrick's office and waited.
"Come on in."
Opening the door, he stepped into an elegantly appointed office and looked directly at his father, seated behind a mahogany desk fit for a king.
At seventy-seven, Patrick Elliott looked at least ten years younger than his age. Still had most of his hair, though it was completely gray now. Tall, with squared shoulders and a defiant tilt to his chin, the old man continued to look like he'd be able to take on the world, if necessary.
Shane walked across the office and dropped into a burgundy leather club chair opposite his father's desk. Absently he noted that the chair was built to be lower than Patrick's desk, leaving whoever sat in it at a disadvantage. That was his father, though. Never miss a trick. "What can I do for you, Dad?"
Patrick leaned back in his chair, braced his elbows on the padded arms and steepled his fingers. "In a hurry, are you?"
"Not really." Of course he was, but if he admitted as much, Patrick was contrary enough to slow this meeting down. Crossing his legs, Shane rested his right ankle on his left knee and idly tapped his fingers against the soft leather of his shoe.
Nodding, the old man said, "That's all right. I am in a hurry. Your mother's got us tickets to some play or other."
Shane smiled. "A musical?"
Patrick shuddered. "Probably."
This time Shane dipped his head to hide a broader smile. His parents were sharply divided on the theater. His father hated it and his mother loved it. One thing he could give Patrick Elliott. The man was crazy enough about his wife that he'd actually suffered through seeing Cats twelve times.
"God knows what she's gonna make me endure tonight. But she's meeting me here in twenty minutes, so I'm gonna make this short."
"All right." Back to business, then. "Let's hear it."
Patrick leaned forward in his chair and gave his son a broad smile. "The final reports are in. All of the profit margins on each of the magazines has been tallied."
"And … ?" Shane's heartbeat quickened and a sense of expectation filled him. Hell, just a year ago, if someone had told him he'd care this much about being named CEO of Elliot Publication Holdings, he would have laughed himself sick.
Now?
Hell, he wanted that position more than he cared to admit. And even more, he wanted to win the competition his father had instigated.
"Congratulations," Patrick said.
Shane let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. "Yeah?" He grinned and stood up. "Thanks."
The old man stood, too, and held out one hand. Shane grabbed it and gave it a shake.
"You did a good job, son."
A surprising zip of pleasure shot through Shane. Apparently, he thought wryly, no one outgrew the need for approval from a parent. Even one who'd been as absent from his children's lives as Patrick.
"Appreciate it," Shane said, reeling in his thoughts as they careened wildly through his mind. CEO. It meant a world of responsibilities that only a year or so ago he would have done anything he could to avoid. Weird how a man's life could change.
He couldn't wait to tell Rachel. All the work they'd been doing for the last few years had finally culminated in winning the grand prize.
"I'll make the official announcement at the family New Year's party," Patrick was saying as he came around the edge of his desk. "But I wanted you to know now. You earned it, Shane."
"Damn straight I did," Shane said, still feeling the hum of excitement.
Gratification. "But I couldn't have done it without my staff. The people at The Buzz have worked their asses off this last year. Especially Rachel, my assistant."
The older man nodded, pleased. "I'm glad you realize that no man succeeds alone."
Shane slanted his father a look. "Oh, I know it. I'm just sort of surprised that you know it."
Patrick sighed and shook his head. "A man reaches a certain age and he gets to know all sorts of things, Shane. Things he should have realized a long time ago."
"Yeah, well," Shane said, suddenly uncomfortable. "Better late than never, I guess."
"I suppose. At the first of the year, I'll clear my stuff out of this office and you can move in."
"Seems strange. Thinking about me, working up here."
"Seems damn strange to me, too, son," Patrick said, wandering across the room to stare at the plaques and framed awards EPH had won over the years. "I'm so used to coming here every day," he murmured, "I can't really imagine not working."
"Hell, I can't even remember the last time you took a vacation."
The older man glanced over his shoulder at Shane. His eyes flashed with something that might have been regret, but it was gone so fast, Shane couldn't be sure. And even if it was regret, he told himself, what did it change?
"I made mistakes," Patrick admitted, turning around now to face his son. "I know that."
Shane stiffened slightly. He didn't want to head down Memory Lane with his father. Especially since those memories would no doubt douse the feeling of victory still rushing through him. Over the last year, Patrick had made a sincere effort to get to know his children. But the bottom line was, one good year didn't offset a lifetime. "Dad-"
"I know. You don't want to talk about it. Well, neither do I." Shoving both hands into the pockets of his well-tailored dark blue suit, the older man said, "But I can't help thinking about it. I can't rewrite the past, though I wish to hell I could. All those years, I focused on my work. Building a legacy for you and your brothers and sisters."
"And you did it."
"Yes, I did. But along the way," he said, his voice suddenly sounding tired, "I missed what was really important. It all slipped out of my reach and I let it go. Did it to myself. No one else to blame."
"There doesn't have to be blame," Shane said quietly. "Not anymore."