handled,” he snapped. “He’s my son, and she’s the mother of my son. She and I aren’t living together—” weren’t together at all “—but I’m not abandoning my son. So your praise might’ve been a tad premature.”
Rusty slid off the edge of the table, standing to his full, intimidating height. Well, it used to be intimidating. Not any longer. Somewhere between watching Charlotte strip herself emotionally bare before walking away and leaving him broken, and checking into The Bellamy, his father’s approval and acceptance had stopped being the driving force in his life. There were only two people whose esteem mattered. One loved him unconditionally. And the other? Well, the other, he’d hurt so badly that there was no coming back from it.
“Ross, I don’t know what this is, but you need to get your shit together,” Rusty thundered. “You will not have any association with that woman or child. This is nonnegotiable.”
Ross studied his father as if it were the first time he was truly seeing him. “You want me to choose you over Charlotte, over my son. Which is so damn ironic because in every situation you never offered me the same courtesy. Business first. Women first. Yourself first. But never me, my happiness, my well-being. No,” he stated flatly, with a finality that resonated through him. “I won’t do it. Keep your money, your inheritance, your business empire. And if you’re stubborn enough to demand it, your title as my father. When my son looks at me with love and respect, knowing I’ll always be there for him, that’s worth more than anything you could possibly hold over my head. Goodbye, Dad.”
He turned and strode toward the door, the crushing weight of guilt, sadness and anger on his chest a little bit lighter.
“Don’t you walk away from me, Ross. We’re not finished here,” Rusty bellowed. Like a child throwing a temper tantrum.
“Yes, Dad, we are.”
He opened the door, stepped through and closed it behind him.
Closing it on his past.
* * *
Ross handed his car keys to The Bellamy’s valet and entered the hotel’s entrance. His cell phone jangled in his pocket, and like the last three times his sister had called since he’d left his confrontation with Rusty, he ignored it. He loved Gina, but right now his emotions huddled too close to the surface. They were too raw, and he couldn’t hold a conversation with her.
He strode across the lobby toward the elevators, but as he passed the sitting area, a woman rose from one of the chairs. Shock barreled into him, jerking him to a sudden halt.
No. Not today. All the anger, pain and sadness simmering inside him ratcheted to a boil and flowed over him, singing him with memories, bitterness and a little boy’s betrayal and love.
“Sarabeth.”
His mother’s smile wavered but then rallied. Probably all that beauty pageant training. Oh, how Rusty used to go on about that. How he’d found her on the pageant circuit and lifted her out of her lower-middle-class life to rarefied Royal society. And all he’d received in return was a coldhearted gold digger more concerned with what he could do for her, instead of the wife and mother he’d wanted.
Ross hadn’t cared about any of that at the time. At ten, all he’d wanted was his mother.
He studied the tall, willowy blonde as she approached him. Though nearing fifty years old, his mother appeared ten or fifteen years younger. All that free living without the baggage of children could do that to a person, he mused.
“Ross, I’m sorry to ambush you like this,” Sarabeth apologized, the blue eyes he’d inherited from her meeting his. She chuckled, and it struck him as nervous. Of course, cornering the son she hadn’t seen or talked to in years had to be stressful. “God, in some ways you look exactly the same. I would’ve recognized you anywhere.” When he didn’t reply to that, she shook her head, that smile finally fading. “I understand if you’d rather not see me, but if you could give me just a few minutes, I’d really appreciate it.”
He smothered his initial instinct to tell her no, and dipped his chin. Pivoting on his heel, he stalked toward The Silver Saddle, trusting her to follow. At two o’clock, most of the tables remained empty, a stark contrast to how it would be jumping with patrons in just three more hours. But for now, he snagged one in a corner that would afford them privacy.
Once they were seated and