Page 25 of Forbidden Vow

Galvin nodded in understanding. “You thought…”

“They were banging each other,” Gregor finished. “Damn, I should have told you.”

“Told me what?” He knew Gregor’s guilty expression.

“I suspected Dad was sick long before he confined himself to the mansion.”

“And neither of you told me?” Darius bared his teeth. If Gregor knew, it was a given he’d told Galvin. Damn it. Darius had been so absorbed in the business and sticking and moving that he’d missed the gradual transition.

Galvin leveled his gaze. “Dad never told any of us. He lived-and died-on his own terms. He didn’t want us to focus on his illness. Dad wanted us happy, living our own lives. Raven honored his wishes; she still does.”

Darius considered the amount of constraint and fortitude Raven possessed to stand up to his accusations and rejection. How had she done it? He could answer without hesitation; because she didn’t want to repeat the mistakes she’d lived under in her parents’ house. Well, she was better than him. But he’d always known that.

“Shortly before Raven hired on as his,” Gregor made air quotes with two fingers, “executive assistant, two payroll accounts appeared on the ledger. One with routine payouts of a holistic medicine center. The other was to a medical staff agency.”

Galvin looked at him. “Now you know Raven never betrayed you. She was good to Dad. And great for you. What are you going to do?”

Five years of torture. Five years of ostracizing his family. Five years without Raven. Missing out on his son’s birth, first word, and first steps. He’d been a damn fool. Now he was a fool for the love of a good woman.

Darius looked both his brothers in the eye. “Spend the rest of my life making it up to her and my son.”

Gregor chuckled and then signaled to the waiter for another round of drinks. “I’ve always liked Raven. I call best man.”

They all laughed.

* * *

Darius

Endurance, California needed fucking street signs. The GPS was useless. Darius had left Sacramento International two hours earlier and traversed every street off Miller Road. He’d passed the University of California Endurance ten miles into his drive. Two trips past Tommy’s Park and Smitty’s Watering Hole, and still no Pine Valley Hospital. Parking his rental, a Ford F-150, his only option, Darius entered what appeared to be the sole bar in the town. The sign above the door read, No Limit Bar and Grille.

“Hi,” came a child’s voice from somewhere behind the counter. Empty stools ran the length of the pub counter. Booths with red and white-checkered tablecloths lined the outer walls, while thirty-inch belly tables minus chairs filled the center. “You’re Lexi’s dad?”

A boy, maybe six in age, popped up, his head barely visible.

“Yes, I’m Darius Kent.” Darius smiled, pleased that his son talked about him.

“I’m Cai Tate. We own this place, my dad and Angel mommy Ivy.”

Darius chuckled, not sure what to make of the introduction but proud to realize his son talked about him. Again, the reality that he and Raven had created a life that bound them together forever appealed more than he ever imagined. Resting an elbow on a stool, Darius said, “Hello, Cai. Did my son tell you about me?”

“Nope,” the little blue eyed, blonde-haired Yoda smiled while climbing higher on a step stool. “You have orange coloring crayon hair like him.”

“What the,” Darius frowned. “Our hair is red.”

“No, it isn’t. Miss Petry, that’s my teacher, said I’m smart and know too much for my own good. And I’m really good with colors. Strawberries are red. Your hair is orange.”

Darius rubbed the bridge of his nose, refusing to argue with a six-year-old Paul Mitchell.

“You win, Cai.”

“Okay,” he said, not understanding the nuisance. And then he changed subjects. “Mr. Darius, what took you so long to come get Lexi?” He shrugged, placing a paper coaster and then a bottled water near Darius.

The question both stunned and wounded Darius. Why hadn’t he come for his woman and child? Because he’d been blinded by his father’s past sins while being oblivious to Raven’s inherent trustworthiness. Would his own son feel the same about him in years to come? Would he inadvertently continue the adversarial legacy between father and son? No.

“I didn’t know about Lexington,” Darius admitted, suddenly ashamed of how he’d walked away from Raven. He’d blamed her, but none of this was her fault. His father had hired her to do a job, the NDA was a standard practice among the elite who had to protect their privacy from business associates who sought to capitalize, the media to exploit, and the family to extort.

Cai shrugged, twisting the cap. “I’ve known him his whole life and he’s been waiting for you.”