Christmas at the Castello(32)

She had come. She had kept her promise to be there for him, despite the  rash ultimatum he'd thrown at her on Friday night. The discovery made  his knees go weak.

Diana's dark gaze was steady and clear as she stared at him across the  sea of faces. Stay the course, her eyes said. What's right is never  wrong.

It reinforced everything his wavering brain needed to hear.

Tracey touched his arm. His heart kicked back into motion as he pulled  his gaze away from his wife and he and his director of PR walked to the  front of the room. Tracey stepped onto the podium, introduced him and  indicated he'd give a short statement followed by a Q&A. The Q&A  had been his decision. Tracey had warned him it might get ugly, likely  would get ugly, but the only thing on his mind was total and complete  transparency.

He read the statement. Watched the frown on Jack Nieman's face grow as  he took total responsibility for a tragedy that could have been  prevented. The buzzing room went completely silent as he apologized to  the families of the victims and vowed to do right by them. "It has not  been Grant's finest moment," he finished, "but we will earn your trust  again. I promise you that."

Tracey stepped forward and began fielding questions. The first, from a  national news reporter in the front row, had him closing his eyes.

"What do you think your father would say if he was here today?"

He opened them. "He would say we need to do better. And we will."

The crucifixion went on for fifty minutes. Settlement numbers were  thrown at him. Questions about the company's safety protocols. The  viability of Grant was raised.

If he'd thought it was going to be tough, it had been ten times worse.  He could only hope for his legacy's sake that it had been enough.

"The one-on-one with the Wall Street Journal," Tracey prompted.

He flicked his gaze to where his wife stood, only the space beside Jack Nieman was empty now. Diana had left.

His heart plummeted. The urge to go after her, to dump the Wall Street  Journal in favor of keeping his wife, saving the one thing that meant  everything to him, was so fierce it took all he had to keep his feet  firmly rooted to the ground and nod at his director of PR he was ready.

Diana had left a door open. He would have to wait a few hours to ensure it never closed again.





  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

DIANA WAS AFRAID to watch the news that evening, too terrified to see  what that shark of a press corps would do to her husband following the  public dismantlement of him that morning. Heart in her throat, she paced  the hardwood floors of Beth's tiny living room. When her friend still  wasn't home by six, she gave in and turned on the news. The recall was  the top story in the broadcast.

She sat down on the sofa as the host introduced a panel of experts  assembled to offer their opinion on what the recall would mean for Grant  and the industry. The first question put to the panel was what they  thought of her husband's performance today. Her hands twisted in her  lap, her heartbeat accelerating as the tough-as-nails head of a national  industry organization took the question first. The graying official  shook his head ruefully. "Undoubtedly one of the gutsiest displays I've  seen in my fourteen-year career. The tide could have gone either way on  this one. Instead, Coburn Grant pulled the public on his side with a  magnificent, rock-solid performance that was a master class in brilliant  crisis communications. He may just have saved an American icon."

Gutsy. Her vision blurred, hot tears springing to her eyes. Take that, Jack Nieman.

A knock sounded on the front door. She snatched up a tissue, thinking  Beth must have buried her keys in her purse again, and went to open the  door. A glance through the peephole made her heart leap in her chest.         

     



 

She took a deep breath, wiped the tears from her eyes and forced her  galloping heart to slow. Then she swung the door open. Her husband stood  on the doorstep still dressed in the charcoal-gray suit he'd worn to  the press conference. Battle weary and disheveled, he was still the only  man who could make her heart race with a single look.

His gaze scored her face. "What's wrong?"

"Other than the fact that you gave me an ultimatum on the job of a lifetime and told me we're over?"

He grimaced and ran a palm over his face, sinking his fingers into the  deep lines furrowing his brow. "I was out of my mind Friday night. I  spoke rashly."

Rashly. She drew in a jagged breath. "I came today because I love you,  Coburn. Because I said I wouldn't be the one to walk away this time. But  you have to give, too. That's how this works."

"I know." His brilliant blue eyes glittered as he focused them on her.  "I was a Neanderthal. But my head is clear now. Give me a chance to make  this right."

Her fingers curled tightly, her nails biting into her palms. Every  nerve, every muscle, every tendon in her body craved him so badly,  missed him so badly, she ached with it. She had waited for him to come  to her all weekend, and when he hadn't it had nearly broken her heart.  But she wouldn't, couldn't allow herself to give in to him until he  proved he could meet her halfway.

"All right." She stepped back to let him in.

He shook his head. "Not here. Get your coat."

Thinking maybe it was better Beth didn't walk in on them, she retrieved  her coat and purse from the front closet and followed Coburn down to  the car parked on the street. The Jag purred noiselessly through the  night until they reached Chelsea. When they passed the street the  penthouse was on, she darted a glance at Coburn. "Aren't we going home?"

"We are." He threw her an impassive look in the dark confines of the car. "To our new home."

Her breath caught in her throat. "The town house is ready?"

"They finished the renovations on Friday."

She sunk her teeth into her lip. She wasn't sure she was emotionally  ready to see her new home, not with such a big issue lying unresolved  between her and Coburn. On the other hand, it was the place where they  had no history together. None of their demons were present. They would  choose their future there.

They pulled up in front of the town house. Lights blazed from the  windows, casting the elegant Italian marble facade in a warm glow. Diana  looked over at Coburn. "Were you here earlier?"

"Frankie was."

He escorted her into their new home, his big hand splayed against her  back. An elegant, granite-floored foyer greeted them, the first  impression of the character-filled historic home she had fallen  instantly in love with. Coburn wrapped his fingers around hers and led  her into the living room she'd insisted be done in rich dark woods to  give it the warmth it needed. Her breath caught in her throat as she  gazed around her. Hundreds of candles were the source of the light  they'd seen from the street, glowing from every surface in the elegantly  wainscoted room. Stunning bouquets of red roses filled the spaces the  candles didn't, blanketing the air with a heavenly sweet smell.

Her pulse fluttered, then took off at a gallop. She turned to look at  Coburn, but he was dropping her hand, shrugging off his jacket and  loosening his tie. The tight look on his fatigued, dark-shadowed face  threw her completely. Was he nervous?

He came to stand in front of her, reaching for her hands. She stepped  back. "I think this conversation needs to be done without you touching  me."

His eyes flashed. A rueful expression passed over his face as he shoved  his hands into his pockets. "Fair enough." His gaze caught and held  hers. "It meant everything to have you there today, Diana. I could not  have done what I did without you. Every time I wanted to backtrack, to  take the easier path, you were there forcing me to follow my heart."

Her chest tightened. "You did it. All I did was remind you why you were  doing it. You are so busy bristling at the comparisons everyone is  making between you and Harrison, between you and your father, you don't  see what I see, Coburn. What the world sees. A man unafraid to do the  right thing despite the enormous pressure on him to do the opposite. A  man who has not only stopped running, but who has surpassed his legacy."         

     



 

She shook her head. "When I saw the numbers the lawyers were throwing  around this morning, I wanted to be sick. After everything you and  Harrison have done to put Grant back on its feet, how it nearly broke  both of you, I couldn't stand by and watch it happen again. Because we  are a great team. What you said on Friday night about the power we  create when we believe in each other? I believe that. I believe we can  do anything if we support each other. But I feel as though I'm the only  one giving, both with my career and my feelings. It's like the pendulum  has swung entirely the other way."

He expelled a long breath and pulled his hand out of his pocket to rake  it through his hair. "I was scared when you told me about the  fellowship. Afraid everything we'd worked so hard for, the intimacy we'd  achieved, would vanish if you took that job. Afraid of losing you...  I'm still afraid of that. But you've proved to me these past few weeks  that you will put us first, and I should have considered that before I  reacted."