Swept Away by the Tycoon(24)

“How do you know?” For crying out loud, he’d hurt so many people on his way to the top. How could she possibly be so certain still? Especially after what he’d said.

“Because.” She cupped his cheek. “You’re different. You’re better.”

Ian let the silence settle around them while he sat holding her hand. What did he do to deserve her crossing his path? She’d been a gift, his Curlilocks. The kind of woman a man could not only draw strength from, but who he could go toe-to-toe with, as well. A challenge and a comfort. If only he’d met her earlier. Before he’d crashed and burned.

“Ian?” Brown eyes shimmered with concern.

“I’m sorry,” he told her.

“Sorry for what?”

For leaning on her so much, for pretending he didn’t notice her casual air this morning was a little forced, for being selfish. Any of those answers worked.

What he said was “For suggesting we find a way to send you home Saturday. I...” He squeezed her hand. “I’m glad you’re here, Curlilocks.”

Pink colored the edge of her smile. “There’s nowhere I’d rather be than with you,” she said.

The emotion shining in her eyes was more than he deserved. Unable to speak, he kissed her. Hard and greedily. “For luck,” he whispered when they broke apart.

“O-okay.” Her eyes were dazed, her lips swollen and glistening like the rain. A picture, he suspected, that would be in his head for a long while.

Slowly, his insides untwisted. They were here. No way would he turn back now. Planting one more kiss on her hand—for extra luck—he grabbed the door handle. “Come on, Curlilocks, let’s go track down my son.”

It took a lot of persuasion, as well as a donation to the new building fund, but Ian eventually walked out of the office armed with the information he needed.

“I don’t think I want to know the amount on the check you wrote,” Chloe said as they crossed the quad toward the building that housed Matt’s last class.

“Money talks, Curli.” A small price to pay as far as Ian was concerned. He’d paid far steeper sums for far less important things.

At least they were in between rainstorms. The morning’s steady downpour had faded to a drizzle, meaning more students would be out and about.

Checking his watch, he saw it was five after the hour. “Class ended a few minutes ago. Why’s he hanging around after?”

“Talking to friends, I bet. If he’s done for the day, he’s not in any rush.”

“You’re right.” Ian couldn’t let his impatience get the better of him. “I’m sure he...”

The doors to the building opened and a trio of students stepped outside. One look at the shock of auburn hair sticking out from beneath a baseball cap and Ian caught his breath.

He’d recognize the cocky strut anywhere. The determined shoulders. He was looking at a younger version of himself.

“Matt!” His voice rang out across the quad. The trio stopped, and so did he, a few feet shy of closing the gap. “Matt!” he called again, softer this time. The boy turned. It took a minute, but eventually his eyes widened in recognition. Ian raised a shaky hand. “Hey.”

Silence filled the quad, stronger than before. “What are you doing here?” Matt finally asked.

“I came to see you,” Ian replied. His heart permanently jammed itself in his throat. After all this time, they were finally speaking face-to-face. So many things he wanted to say. Where did he start?

“Did you get my messages?”

“I got them.”

“Good. I didn’t know if the storm—”

“If I wanted to talk, I would have called back.”

What? Ian froze. “I don’t understand. I thought we...” Words failed him. “We’ve been talking.”

“I answered a couple letters. That doesn’t mean I’m ready to get all buddy-buddy.”

If he wanted you to know his phone number, wouldn’t he have given it to you? Jack had said. Ian had screwed up. Again. He shoved the self-pity aside. This wasn’t about him, it was about making things right with Matt. “I’m not looking to be your best friend. I understand I don’t have that right.”

“And yet you’re here.”

God, but the kid sounded so much like him it hurt. “If you’d give me five minutes—”

“No.”

A slap would have hurt less.

“You need to hear your father out.” It was Chloe. While he and Matt were talking, she’d stepped up to stand at his shoulder. Her fingers brushed the back of his hand, a featherlight gesture of support. It was all he could do not to grab hold.

Less appreciative of her presence, Matt stared her down. “Lady, I don’t know who you are, but I don’t need to do anything.” He washed a hand over his features. “Look, I can’t do this right now. I—I’ve got study group.”

The worst thing about his son’s rejection was Ian deserved every single bit. Mentally, he backed away, giving the kid the space he needed. “I’m sorry, Matt. I never meant to hurt you.”

“If that’s the case, then leave me alone. Find some other poor schmuck and call him. Just...ust...” He made the same face Ian made when searching for the right words. “Just back off.”

“You want us to call security or something?” one of Matt’s friends asked.

“Won’t be necessary. Right?”

Ian nodded.

“You don’t understand. Your father—”

“Let him go, Chloe.” No need making things worse than he already had.

Incredulity filled her expression. “Are you nuts? You can’t let him leave without explaining.”

“Chloe—” Ian reached out to grab her arm, only to have her break free and jog after the trio.

“He’s trying to make things right!” she called out to the kids. “Don’t you understand what that’s worth? How lucky you are?”

“I’m lucky?” Matt whirled around, his eyes hard as stone. “I don’t know who you are, but that man did nothing for thirteen years. I’m not dropping everything because he decided to play father today. Now, leave me alone.”

“But he—”

“Chloe, stop!”

Ian had had enough. Matt didn’t want to listen. The only thing Chloe’s pushing would do was drive the boy further away.

She refused to give up the fight, however. Her eyes had a desperate, manic shine to them as she gripped his arms. “Go after him,” she demanded. “Tell him about all the events you attended. About graduation. He needs to know you were there.”

“He doesn’t want to hear it.”

“Then make him! Follow him and make him listen.”

“And how do you suggest I do that? Tackle him and hold him to the ground?” Didn’t she realize he would if he thought forcing him would make a difference? Ian had messed up, pure and simple. What he needed to do was go home and regroup. Figure out how to fix what he’d destroyed.

He watched as Matt and his friends moved toward another building. For one brief second, while standing in the doorway, it looked as though Matt glanced back in their direction, but he was merely holding the door open for someone else before vanishing behind the glass.

“Jack warned me. He said I should be more cautious.”

But Ian hadn’t listened, and as a result, he and his son might have had their one and only meeting. To think he might never hear Matt’s voice again cut him in two. What had he done?

He never got the chance to apologize.

Chloe still wouldn’t give up. She paced back and forth, her boots hitting the ground with hard steps. “You’ve got to go after him,” she repeated. “We cannot come all this way, go through everything we went through, only to turn around. Tell me we aren’t. That we aren’t quitting.”

“For crying out loud, Chloe, will you be quiet? We aren’t doing anything.” The words burst out of him like bullets, loud and fast. “This is about my son. You want to work out your father issues, do it on your own time.”

She looked as if she’d been struck. “I can’t believe you said that.”

He could. He’d known it was only a matter of time before the monster inside him hurt her. This, he thought, as angry tears brightened her eyes, this was why he should have kept his distance.



The rain had returned. Chloe could feel the drops spitting in her face as she watched Ian walk away. With each step he took, the hope she dared to let hide in her chest grew fainter.

“You were supposed to be different,” she whispered. Not like the others. He was supposed to stay and fight for the people he cared for. In her mind, the little girl she used to be gave up believing things could ever be different.

She found Ian in his car, staring at the steering wheel. “I told you I was a miserable bastard,” he said.

“You had a rough day. It happens.” The lame answer came from someplace she didn’t recognize. Guess the hope hadn’t completely died, as she was willing to forgive the outburst, even after he greeted her explanation with a humorless laugh.

“I should have listened to Jack.”

“You said yourself some things can’t be communicated in a letter.”