cent in three years.”
She’s not my mother, hovered on the tip of his tongue. She hadn’t abandoned her child, taken the money and ghosted out of his life. Charlotte might have walked away from Ross, but not their son. He granted her major points for that. “It’s happening, Dad. She hasn’t agreed yet, but it’s only a matter of time.”
“Not under my roof. And let’s not pretend that this house, this land, this company, hell, your life, aren’t mine. I own all of it. The lifestyle of cavorting off to different cities around the world to do whatever the hell you want without a care? That’s courtesy of me. The expensive suits and watches you like to flash? Me. All me. And if you go through with this...idiocy of claiming this woman’s son, of trying to move her in here, there will be repercussions. Repercussions you literally can’t afford to deal with. Don’t force my hand on this, Ross. Cut ties with her and this boy. And cut ties now.”
“Two years,” Ross whispered, deliberately straightening, his gaze never leaving his father’s.
“What?” Rusty snapped.
“Two years. That’s how old my son is. Two years of not knowing he existed. Two years of firsts. Two years of his life that you stole from me. From us. Do your worst, Dad. Issue your threats. But you don’t get another day, another hour.”
“Goddammit, Ross—”
“Hey, fellas.” Ross turned around in time to see Billy shut the study door behind him and walk farther into the room frowning. “I could hear you two all the way down the hall. And so can the staff. What’s going on?” He cast a look from Ross to Rusty, then back to Ross, concern darkening his eyes. “Is everything okay?”
“Hell no, everything isn’t okay,” Rusty growled. “Talk to your friend, Billy. See if you can pound some sense into him, because I can’t seem to. But somebody better,” he threatened.
“Ross—” Billy said.
“Later,” he threw at his friend before tossing a look at his father over his shoulder. “We’ll finish this later.”
“No, we won’t. Don’t push this, Ross.”
“No, don’t push me, Dad.”
Stalking across the study, he jerked the door open and left, the anger, disappointment and, yes, sadness, propelling him down the hall toward the steps that led to the second level and his wing of the house. He’d expected his father’s reaction. But he hadn’t been prepared for Rusty to deny a child—to urge Rusty to desert a child—that was their blood. All Ross’s life, Rusty had preached about teaching his son to “be a man.” But a man took care of his responsibilities, provided for his children. A man protected the vulnerable.
Though Ross and his father had their differences, he’d always seen his father as a man upholding those values.
Now the sadness inside him threatened to capsize the anger. The sadness for who he’d believed his father to be. For the death of that belief.
“Ross, what the hell?” A hard grip surrounded his upper arm, drawing him to an abrupt halt. Billy appeared in front of him, blocking his path to the staircase. “What’s going on?” Before Ross could answer, his friend guided him through the formal living room on their left and out the glass French doors that led to one of the terraces facing the stables. Once they were several feet away from the house and on the lighted, pebbled path, he stopped, thrusting his hands over his black hair. “Talk to me. What the hell happened in there with Rusty?”
Initially, Ross hadn’t any intention of talking about Charlotte and Ben with anyone. At least not until his temper cooled. But the story burst out of him on a ragged, streaming torrent. When he finished, his chest rose and fell on his harsh breaths and the maelstrom of emotions that continued to roil through him.
“Well, damn,” Billy murmured. “I wasn’t expecting all that.”
For the first time since entering his father’s study, Ross snorted with true humor. “Yeah, when it comes to drama, I’m all go big or go home.” But in the next instant, he sobered. “Just tell me what you’re thinking, Billy.”
His friend sighed. “I don’t agree with how your father handled the situation those years ago. Lies always end up hurting everyone in the end. But trying to see it from his point of view, I can understand his motives—”
“Are you serious?” Ross barked. “He kept this—”
“Hold up.” Billy thrust up a hand. “I said I could understand his motives, not that I agree with them.