his fault.” In reality, she had
no idea, but she had to use what she could.
“She’s got a restraining order against him, doesn’t she? That
tells you all you need to know right there.”
It looked pretty cut-and-dried from the outside. Simon had been
convicted in the court of public opinion. At one time—not long ago—she’d
convicted him in her own mind, too. But Ian had suggested there was more to the
story, and that made her a bit defensive. America only knew so much—Bella’s
side. Not only that but Gail was Simon’s publicist.
She was wearing his ruby necklace. And she’d agreed to become his wife. If she
didn’t stand up for him, who would? “Does that mean he’s not worth helping
through a rough time? That he should never get another chance to straighten out
his life?”
“He’s had plenty of chances. You’ve told me that yourself. You
don’t want to risk your heart on someone who’s sure to break it.”
She’d expected that response, and yet it bothered her. “I’m
thirty-one, Dad. I’m quite capable of deciding who I want to date.”
“Not if you’re talking about a guy who can’t keep his pants
zipped, Gail.”
The endearments were gone; she was Gail now. “He’s trying to
change his life. Have I not communicated that part?”
Her father snorted. “If he wants to change, more power to him,
but keep your distance or you’ll be sorry.”
“He’s fighting to gain custody of his son. That means he
cares.”
“If he cared he never would’ve lost custody to begin with. A
court doesn’t take your children away unless you deserve it.” The way her mother
had deserved it. But Simon wasn’t her mother.
“You’re coming on really strong, Dad. Could you just…back off a
little?”
The sudden chill told her she’d offended him. And he didn’t
forgive easily, even small slights. He’d probably withhold his love and approval
for weeks over this call. But she didn’t have the opportunity to apologize or
try to make amends.
“You’re making a mistake, Gail,” he said, and hung up.
Gail stared at the phone in her hand. Part of her was inclined
to call her father back. She’d always fallen in with his wishes before, and she
certainly couldn’t deny the wisdom of his words. But firemen couldn’t avoid a
burning building just because it was dangerous. Someone had to rush in and look for survivors.
Simon was standing in a burning building and, as belligerent,
sarcastic and aloof as he could be, he didn’t know how to get himself out. He
had too much anger and self-loathing working against him. Did she try to help?
Risk getting burned herself? Or did she turn a blind eye, walk on and leave the
job to someone else?
Who would do it if she didn’t? He had everyone he trusted
cowed. And he wouldn’t cooperate with anyone he didn’t trust.
Why was it always someone else’s responsibility, anyway?
It wasn’t. This time she was holding the fire hose and she was
going to use it whether her father approved or not. She might live to regret her
actions—whenever she crossed her father she usually did—but if she were Simon,
she’d want someone to brave the flames.
Taking a deep breath, she redialed.
Her father didn’t answer. He had to teach her a lesson for
disrespecting him. But she wasn’t going to succumb to his emotional blackmail.
Not today. She had a date with a burning building.
Joe answered. “Hey, Gail. I don’t know if Dad wants to
talk—”
“I’m not asking him to speak to me. I just called to tell you
both that I’m going to marry Simon,” she said, and disconnected.
10
S imon had had every drop of alcohol removed
from his house, including the cooking sherry. He’d canceled all outings and
appearances, lest he be tempted. And he’d agreed to have his chef administer
random Breathalyzer tests every day for the first week, as a fail-safe to keep
him honest. If he screwed up, Ian and Gail would be notified and it would all be
over.
Those were
no idea, but she had to use what she could.
“She’s got a restraining order against him, doesn’t she? That
tells you all you need to know right there.”
It looked pretty cut-and-dried from the outside. Simon had been
convicted in the court of public opinion. At one time—not long ago—she’d
convicted him in her own mind, too. But Ian had suggested there was more to the
story, and that made her a bit defensive. America only knew so much—Bella’s
side. Not only that but Gail was Simon’s publicist.
She was wearing his ruby necklace. And she’d agreed to become his wife. If she
didn’t stand up for him, who would? “Does that mean he’s not worth helping
through a rough time? That he should never get another chance to straighten out
his life?”
“He’s had plenty of chances. You’ve told me that yourself. You
don’t want to risk your heart on someone who’s sure to break it.”
She’d expected that response, and yet it bothered her. “I’m
thirty-one, Dad. I’m quite capable of deciding who I want to date.”
“Not if you’re talking about a guy who can’t keep his pants
zipped, Gail.”
The endearments were gone; she was Gail now. “He’s trying to
change his life. Have I not communicated that part?”
Her father snorted. “If he wants to change, more power to him,
but keep your distance or you’ll be sorry.”
“He’s fighting to gain custody of his son. That means he
cares.”
“If he cared he never would’ve lost custody to begin with. A
court doesn’t take your children away unless you deserve it.” The way her mother
had deserved it. But Simon wasn’t her mother.
“You’re coming on really strong, Dad. Could you just…back off a
little?”
The sudden chill told her she’d offended him. And he didn’t
forgive easily, even small slights. He’d probably withhold his love and approval
for weeks over this call. But she didn’t have the opportunity to apologize or
try to make amends.
“You’re making a mistake, Gail,” he said, and hung up.
Gail stared at the phone in her hand. Part of her was inclined
to call her father back. She’d always fallen in with his wishes before, and she
certainly couldn’t deny the wisdom of his words. But firemen couldn’t avoid a
burning building just because it was dangerous. Someone had to rush in and look for survivors.
Simon was standing in a burning building and, as belligerent,
sarcastic and aloof as he could be, he didn’t know how to get himself out. He
had too much anger and self-loathing working against him. Did she try to help?
Risk getting burned herself? Or did she turn a blind eye, walk on and leave the
job to someone else?
Who would do it if she didn’t? He had everyone he trusted
cowed. And he wouldn’t cooperate with anyone he didn’t trust.
Why was it always someone else’s responsibility, anyway?
It wasn’t. This time she was holding the fire hose and she was
going to use it whether her father approved or not. She might live to regret her
actions—whenever she crossed her father she usually did—but if she were Simon,
she’d want someone to brave the flames.
Taking a deep breath, she redialed.
Her father didn’t answer. He had to teach her a lesson for
disrespecting him. But she wasn’t going to succumb to his emotional blackmail.
Not today. She had a date with a burning building.
Joe answered. “Hey, Gail. I don’t know if Dad wants to
talk—”
“I’m not asking him to speak to me. I just called to tell you
both that I’m going to marry Simon,” she said, and disconnected.
10
S imon had had every drop of alcohol removed
from his house, including the cooking sherry. He’d canceled all outings and
appearances, lest he be tempted. And he’d agreed to have his chef administer
random Breathalyzer tests every day for the first week, as a fail-safe to keep
him honest. If he screwed up, Ian and Gail would be notified and it would all be
over.
Those were
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