All He Really Needs (14 page)

*

Only a few minutes later, Griffin rolled to the edge of
the bed and sat there, elbows on his knees, head in his hands for several
minutes without speaking. Finally, she wiggled up behind him and placed her hand
on his back. He flinched away from her touch, stood and stalked over to where
his jeans lay on the floor near the door and yanked them on.

“Griffin—” she began.

He looked at her. For one long moment, his expression was
completely unreadable. He studied her with such intensity that she slowly sat
up, crossing her legs and tucking the sheet up under her arms. “What?”

He crossed back to the bed, sat on the edge and cupped her face
in his hands.

“Sydney, I’m so sorry.”

Disconcerted, she pulled back, smoothing down her tousled hair
and tucking it behind her ear. “Why are you apologizing?”

“I promised you we wouldn’t sleep together while I was your
boss and—”

“You didn’t really promise,” she hastened to correct him,
trying to lighten his mood. “You scoffed at the idea and tried to control your
laughter.”

“I knew this wasn’t what you wanted. I betrayed your
trust.”

He looked guilt ridden. Tormented.

A few weeks ago she would have assumed this was all an act, but
now she knew better. Now she knew that despite everything, despite his
upbringing, despite the arrogance that was so much a part of him, despite his
natural charm and easygoing nature, he was an astonishingly decent man. Maybe
even the most decent man she knew.

She understood that now in a way that she could not possibly
have understood a few weeks ago. Or even twenty-four hours ago.

It nearly broke her heart to think that—in the middle of all he
was going through—he was worried about whether or not he’d betrayed her trust.
With all he had on his plate right now, with the fate of a billion-dollar
company resting on his shoulders, with his family life in turmoil and with his
dreams of running Hope
2
O at risk, he was worried about her. Because that was how
compassionate he was. It awed and amazed her. It humbled her.

Pulling the sheet with her, she climbed onto his lap,
straddling him. She kept the sheet wrapped around her, so that the only thing
separating them was luxuriant cotton. Thin though the barrier might be, she
needed it because without it, if they were skin to skin, they would be too
close. Pressed against his body, her words would get lost in the intimacy. It
would be too easy for this to become about sex. Besides, she’d be too
vulnerable.

Instead, she cupped his jaw in her palms and tilted his face so
he met her gaze. Beneath the remorse in his eyes, there was the spark of heat.
The passion that was always so close to the surface. The passion that had
distracted her far too often from the man he really was.

“You didn’t betray my trust,” she said soothingly. “This was
what I wanted. It was what we both needed.”

He studied her for a long minute before nodding slowly. His
arms snaked around her, one behind her neck, the other cupping her buttocks. He
pulled her closer, but rather than kissing her, he bumped his forehead against
hers.

“I’m still sorry. I—”

“It’s okay.” But she could see that the regret in his gaze was
still there. The lingering doubts. “I get it,” she reassured him. “You don’t
want to be that guy. The pushy obnoxious guy who manipulates and controls people
to get what he wants. I understand now why you don’t want to do that. It’s
because you don’t want to be like your father. But trust me. You’re not that
guy. You’re nothing like your father. You’re nothing like anyone in your family.
I—”

“You’re wrong,” he said sharply. Then he stood abruptly,
picking her up and turning around to deposit her on the bed before pacing over
to the sliding door that overlooked the balcony. “I’m more like my father than
you know. I have lied to you. I’ve misled you.”

Her heart seemed to catch in her chest. For a moment, she
wondered if this had something to do with Hope
2
O, but he was so serious, so
distraught, she couldn’t believe that it did. Then she forced out the word,
“How?”

Instead of answering outright, he kept talking as if he hadn’t
even heard her question. “All this mess in my family, this stupid quest our
father has laid out, this complicated web my mother has woven, all of it could
have been avoided if they would just tell the truth. If just one person in the
family would stop lying about everything, would stop trying to manipulate and
control the situation to get what they want. If either of them had been honest
about anything, their marriage would have been different. I don’t want any part
of their legacy of lies and deceit and one-upmanship.”

She climbed off the bed, wrapped the sheet around her body like
a toga and crossed to stand right behind him. The view out the window overlooked
the parking lot and the downtown cityscape. She wasn’t worried about anyone
seeing her because during the day it would be nearly impossible to see into the
hotel room from outside, even if there were buildings nearby.

She didn’t say anything, but just let him talk. Whatever lie
he’d told, whatever deception he’d perpetrated, she didn’t believe it was as
serious as he was making it out to be. She knew him too well now for that.

“I want to be totally honest with you.” He turned around to
face her. His hands were propped on his hips, his jeans slung low with the top
button undone. His head was slightly ducked, so she almost couldn’t read his
expression. “I don’t have any intention of staying on as CEO for Cain
Enterprises.”

“I know. You never claimed you did.”

He let out a faint groan of frustration. “No. I mean, I’ve
never really had any intention of even working at Cain Enterprises. I’ve been
trying to get away from it since I accepted the job when I was twenty-four. The
only reason I even took the job is because my father threatened to cut me off if
I didn’t work for Cain Enterprises for at least a decade.”

“Yes.” Again she cupped his cheek. “I know. It doesn’t take a
genius to see that you’re not really happy at Cain Enterprises. You clearly
don’t fit there. That’s why—”

But before she could admit to knowing about Hope
2
O, he cut her
off. “No, it’s more than that. It’s not just that I don’t want to work for Cain
Enterprises.” His expression still looked so miserable. “It’s that I have other
plans entirely. Things I’ve put on hold for the better part of a decade
because—”

Finally, she couldn’t take anymore of it and she pressed her
fingers to his mouth. “I know.”

“You—”

“I know about Hope
2
O.”

“—don’t… Wait.” His eyes scanned her face. “You know about
Hope
2
O? How could you possibly know?” He took a step back, his expression
suspicious. “How did you find out? Did Dalton know?”

“Relax.” It was all she could do not to chuckle at his open
skepticism. “It’s nothing nefarious. Sharlene knows. She told me.” He was still
eyeing her suspiciously, so she quickly explained about the conversation she and
Sharlene had had while he’d been off looking for the photos.

The tension seemed to drain out of him as she spoke. Finally he
said, “You’re not mad?”

“I found out you’re generous and charitable. I learned you’re
doing great things to help all of mankind. Why would that make me mad?”

Worried, yes, because this was the kind of man he was. The kind
who worried that his good deeds would be held against him.

“Some women would be angry that I misled them.”

“You never misled me. You’re just very guarded. There’s a
difference.”

“Well, you say that now. You might feel differently when you’ve
had time to think it over. After all, you started dating a rich man who was in
line to inherit hundreds of millions of dollars. Not a man who works for an
international aid organization.”

“You can’t honestly believe I was dating you for the money.
That’s not the kind of relationship we had anyway.”

He shot her an odd look at that. “No. I don’t suppose it
is.”

There was a note of finality in his voice, like he’d reached
some sort of decision. Whatever it was, she wasn’t sure she wanted to hear more.
She couldn’t take any more glimpses into his soul. She already felt as though
she’d flown too close to the sun.

Fourteen

M
aybe he was an idiot, but he didn’t figure
out something was wrong with Sydney until after they’d already checked out of
the hotel and he’d driven her back to her little bungalow in Montrose. As much
as he wasn’t looking forward to confronting his parents, he knew he had to talk
to them and had just assumed that he and Sydney would go as soon as they left
the hotel. However, once he saw her clothes, he knew that wasn’t an option. Dirt
from his car was smeared across the back of her pale slacks and tan sweater.
He’d thought he kept his car pretty clean, but apparently he was going to have
to talk to the car care service he used.

Sydney was so quiet on the drive to her neighborhood that he
had to wonder if something was wrong. When he pulled up in front of the house,
Sydney said, “I’ll just be a minute. You can wait in the car if you’d like.”

“No, I’ll come in,” he said, not realizing at first that maybe
she’d been asking him not to come in.

She opened the front door and gestured him through. It led
straight into a small living room, with an office off to the right and the
kitchen straight ahead.

“Help yourself to a drink,” she said, hurrying past the kitchen
and gesturing toward the refrigerator. She darted into the bedroom, shutting the
door behind her, leaving him standing in the living room staring blankly at the
door through which she’d retreated, wondering what was up. She normally wasn’t
shy. She’d dressed and undressed in front of him countless times in the past
four months. So why had she shut him out of the bedroom? Was she mad about the
whole sleeping-with-her-boss thing?

He hadn’t really thought about it when he’d had her spread out
over the hood of her car. If he had, he probably would have assumed that she was
fine with it. After all, she’d been the one to point out how close they were to
the hotel.

While she changed, he occupied himself by looking around the
tiny house. It was a bungalow probably dating back to the 1930s or so, but it
had obviously been updated. The kitchen was open and modern, with a large
granite-topped island floating between the living room and the kitchen. The
office probably could have been used as a bedroom, but she had lined the wall
with bookshelves and placed an Eames lounge chair in the center of the room. A
large brown tabby cat sat curled up in the chair. When he reached out to touch
it, the cat opened one eye and growled ominously.

He’d only been inside her house a handful of times, but he knew
where it was because he’d picked her up there. It was decorated in mid-century
modern antiques, with lots of pale wood and sleek lines. The furniture had all
been lovingly cared for and looked like it might have been inherited from
grandparents, though Griffin now knew it had not been.

He crossed back to her bedroom, leaning against the frame of
the closed door. “I didn’t know you had a cat,” he called.

“Um…yeah,” she called from the other side of the door.
“That’s Grommet.”

“Like the animated dog?”

“Yeah.” She opened the door. Now she was dressed in slim blue
jeans and a moss-green knit sweater. “Just like that. He likes cheese.”

Sydney tugged at the hem of her sweater and didn’t quite meet
his gaze. She looked beautiful, as she always did, but this outfit was more
casual than her normal, middle-of-the-work-day professionalism.

“You ready?” he asked.

She knotted her fingers together, her expression twisting in
indecision. “Here’s the thing. I don’t think I should go.”

“What? You can’t let them intimidate you like—”

“No!” she hastened to reassure him. “It’s not that. I just…”
She blew out a breath and seemed to be searching for words.

Sydney, who was never at a loss for words, suddenly was.
Moreover, she seemed a little lost in general.

He crossed over to her, cupping her cheek in his palm and
tipping her face up to his. “Hey, what’s up?”

“I just think that maybe you need to do this alone.”

He frowned. She still wasn’t quite meeting his gaze and if she
bit down any harder on her lip, she was going to start bleeding. He traced his
thumb across her lower lip, gently freeing it from her teeth. “No. I need you
there with me. I need a voice of reason. I need someone who’s not emotionally
involved. That’s what you said, remember?”

“I know that’s what I said, but I’m not…” Finally, she forced
her gaze to his. “I don’t think I can be your voice of reason anymore.”

He thought of how crazy and messed up his family was. He
thought of everything his father and his mother had put him through in the past
few days. Hell, his entire life. And every time he’d fought them on anything,
he’d done it alone. He’d never once, in his entire thirty years of life, had
anyone been completely in his corner. Until now. Until Sydney.

She was everything to him now. No matter what else happened he
was going to make damn sure that he didn’t let her go.

He closed the distance between them and kissed her, molding his
mouth to hers. Pouring into that kiss all the things he wouldn’t be able to tell
her until all this trouble with this family was resolved.

He lifted his mouth from hers and waited until she opened her
eyes before saying, “I still need you there. No matter what.”

*

They found his mother at the house, sitting beside his
father’s bed, reading him the business section of the newspaper aloud. The home
health care nurse was sitting in the hall, giving them privacy. Thank God for
small blessings. Most days, it was damn near impossible to have a private
conversation with his parents; Griffin was relieved that today he’d have a shot
at it. He went into the room where his father’s hospital bed had been set up.
Sydney was beside him as he walked up to the door, and she gave his hand a
little tug. With a tilt of her head, she indicated she would wait in the hall,
but he didn’t release her hand, instead pulling her in with him. Caro sat in a
wingback chair between the bed and the window that overlooked the front lawn.
The head of Hollister’s bed had been raised so he, too, was sitting upright.

Griffin wasn’t sure if Sydney had ever even met his father, but
if Hollister’s fragile appearance shocked her, she didn’t let on. Having her by
his side, Griffin saw his father through new eyes, taking in all the things he
hadn’t noticed the past few visits. Hollister’s skin looked pale and paper thin.
His eyes were sunken. The myriad tubes and IVs hooked up to him only made him
look more frail.

But Griffin didn’t let that moment of empathy stop him. He
marched into the room and tossed the photos of the mystery nanny down on the bed
between his parents.

They both looked up at him in surprise, barely glancing at
Sydney where she stood in the doorway.

“What is the meaning of this?” Caro asked, her voice cool.

“I was about to ask you the same thing,” Griffin replied.

Hollister reached out a trembling hand and picked up the
picture closest to him. He made a
harumphing
noise
and then let the picture drop. “Is that the best—” his words were cut off by a
series of hacking coughs “—you can do? A thirty-year-old picture?”

Griffin stood at the foot of his father’s bed, his hands
propped on his hips, staring down at his parents. There was a slight tremble in
Caro’s chin and she appeared to have lost all the cruel bravado that had carried
her through lunch.

He felt only the slightest twinge of remorse. He didn’t want to
do this, but he wasn’t the one who had started this, either.

“This thirty-year-old-picture is of the woman I believe wrote
the letter. Dalton believed it, too. She worked here as a nanny when I was an
infant. And I refuse to believe that neither of you remember anything about her.
Especially since she appears to have stalked Hollister and stolen a family
heirloom. Mother, if Sharlene is to be believed, before this
girl—Vivian—disappeared forever, she had you so worked up, you demanded that
Sharlene call the police and have her arrested. The idea that neither of you
remember her at all is so preposterous as to be laughable.”

For a long moment no one spoke. Hollister was glaring at
Griffin, and the enmity in his gaze was strong enough to abolish the illusion
that he was a fragile man. Caro had gone as white as Hollister’s hospital-issued
bed linens.

Finally, Griffin said, “I want some answers, and you should
think very carefully before you give them. Because these may be the last words
you speak to me.”

Hollister gave a snort of disbelief. Caro’s hands twitched
nervously on the newspaper, causing it to rustle. Then she carefully folded the
paper up and stood, placing it on the seat of the chair before crossing to look
out the windows at the sprawling green lawns.

“This is all your father’s fault.”

“Of course it…is,” Hollister gasped out through his coughing.
“You always bl-bla-blame me. For everything.”

Caro threw back her head and laughed. A desperate, maniacal
laugh that seemed to echo through the room. “That’s because it is always your
fault. But this time especially.” She spun to glare at her husband. “Why
couldn’t you just let it go? Why couldn’t you just get the letter, feel the
gut-wrenching sense of betrayal and just accept the fact that there’s someone
out there you don’t have under your thumb? That’s what you were supposed to do,
damn it!”

Hollister looked at his wife, blinking in surprise. For the
first time—maybe in his entire life—his expression wasn’t arrogant and defiant.
Instead, it was confused. “What do you mean?” He coughed again. “What I was
supposed to do?”

And suddenly, Griffin got it. He understood what should have
been glaringly obvious right from the very beginning. All the tension washed out
of his body and he bent his neck, dropping his head forward and shaking it back
and forth. “Mother, what did you do?”

“Caro?” Hollister asked, his voice sounding strangely
hollow.

She turned back to the window, wrapping her arms tightly around
her thin body, which suddenly looked frail, too. “I never meant for any of this
to happen.” She sent a pleading look over her shoulder at Hollister. “I just
wanted to punish you. To hurt you like you’d done me so many times. And I knew
it would drive you crazy, not knowing more about your daughter.”

“So you sent the letter,” Griffin said flatly. He stared at his
mother, but for a long moment, she said nothing at all. Finally, he closed his
eyes and scrubbed a hand down his face. “For the love of God, can’t you be
honest about at least this? Can’t you—”

“I did.” Her tone was as flat as his. “I never imagined what he
would do. I never dreamed it would come to this.”

“But when it did, when he first called us all into this room,
showed us the letter and lay out the challenge, why not just come clean
then?”

She whirled back to face them, her expression desperate.
“Because I’d lost everything! He had cut me out of his will already. All I had
was the hope that you’d find the girl, get everything and take pity on me.”

“Mother, you—”

“Do you have any idea how hard I’ve worked trying to get you
clues? How hard it was to keep Dalton off the right trail? How complicated this
has been to try to feed you information without revealing how much I knew?”

Caro’s voice was rising steadily toward hysteria. Griffin just
stood there, shaking his head slowly back and forth. He was so tired of his
mother’s manipulations. If just once she’d stood up to Hollister, maybe he could
feel more sympathy for her. But over and over again, he’d watched his mother
sacrifice her pride, her dignity and her children to her own greed. She would
never stand up to Hollister because doing so might jeopardize the status quo.
Even this one tiny rebellion she’d tried to hide and bury beneath a wealth of
lies. Another woman would have divorced Hollister long ago, but Caro was either
too proud or too greedy, Griffin wasn’t sure which.

Hollister’s expression had sharpened into bitter distaste.
“Caro, you ignorant twit,” he said.

All three of them turned and stared at him. It was the same
phrase the letter had used, and Griffin felt another pang of sympathy for Caro.
No matter how manipulative and mean she might sometimes be, she didn’t deserve
to have her husband speak to her like that. Ever. Let alone in front of her
son.

Griffin turned his back on his father and spoke to his mother,
his voice softer now. “Mother, is there any truth to the letter at all? Does
Hollister have a missing daughter, or did you just make it all up?”

Caro clenched and unclenched her hands in front of her chest,
the tears in her eyes now spilling over. “Vivian really was Dalton’s nanny. She
really did give birth to a girl and I believe that girl is Hollister’s child.
Why else would Vivian have been so obsessed with Hollister? Why else would she
have taken his mother’s ring?”

“She could have just been angry that you fired her. Did you
think of that?”

“No,” Caro shook her head. “If you’re angry, you take something
valuable. You steal a thousand dollars’ worth of silverware that no one will
notice until Christmas. You take the five hundred-dollar bills off the dresser.
I wasn’t wearing either ring that day. She overlooked my engagement ring with
its eight-thousand-dollar diamond as well as probably ten grand in other
jewelry, all so she could take Hollister’s damn heirloom. That’s either stupid
or crazy.”

He turned back to his father. “Okay then, it’s on you. Did you
sleep with that young woman?”

Hollister didn’t even look at the picture. “Of course I did.
But Vee turned out to be crazier than a June bug in July. Following me back
here. Hiring on as the nanny. I refused to see her.”

“So this girl, Vivian, Vee, you never even knew she was
pregnant, did you?”

“If I had known, do you think we’d be having this conversation
now? But don’t you start thinking you’ve won, buddy boy. Identifying the mother
was never what this challenge was about. I don’t care who sent that letter.” His
long speech caught up with him and he once again dissolved into a fit of
coughing. When he spoke again, his voice was thin. “You have to find the
girl.”