Home. It felt so good to be back home. Yesterday had been a tired blur staying up for nearly twenty-four hours with the jet lag.
She got out of her bed. Prince jumped up from the dog bed at the foot of the bed that Trudy had said was from Jason. The dog trotted into the bathroom with her. It would probably take a week before Prince wouldn't be glued to her side anymore - the poor thing seemed like he worried she'd disappear like his previous elderly owner. She glanced over her shoulder at the closed door connecting to Jason's room. With a heavy heart, she shut the bathroom door and turned to stare in the mirror.
Jason had disappeared into his office yesterday afternoon with an apology about some kind of research work crisis. He'd holed up in his office until after midnight, either busy with work or avoiding her. Maybe the honeymoon had been too much time together and he needed some space to breathe. It hadn't seemed right to take the liberty of sleeping in his bed without asking, so she'd gone to sleep in her own room...with the hope that he'd come. It was the first night without him since the wedding two weeks ago. It had been harder to accept the separation than expected. But it was the first of many nights alone, according to their agreement, so it was better to get used to it now.
A few minutes later, she stepped into the clothes closet and let the new rose pink silk nightgown glide down her skin to pool at her feet. Running her hand over the dozens of clothes, she put on a caramel cashmere sweater and gray flowing pants. Enough clothes lined the walls to not have to buy more for at least a couple years. It seemed odd to have an excess, much less such fine things. Even ten years from now, it would still feel odd to not have to worry about money. Scooping up her nightclothes, she draped them over the footboard and eyed the connecting bedroom door.
She walked over and knocked, hating this barrier. After sharing a bedroom with him for two weeks, this felt like ten steps backwards in the marriage. Some of the walls that had come down during the honeymoon seemed to be re-erecting with this door.
No sound came from within. She cracked the door open. Not a single sign of him, not even a rumpled bed. Perhaps he got ready for the day in the bathroom. Walking into the room, she glanced at the empty bathroom. An old-fashioned strop and razor laid on the counter. Drops of water still clung to the sink, so he must've been in here recently.
Glancing up, she frowned at the small rectangular mirror on the wall. It had always been there, but it had never seemed so obvious as right now. It stretched less than a half meter wide, just large enough to see a portion of a face. Her room had the vanity desk with three-way mirrors and her bathroom had a large wall mirror, but come to think of it, the other rooms in the house didn't have mirrors. A sour taste formed as her stomach churned - the lack of mirrors was intentional.
She wandered downstairs. He sat at his desk working on the laptop and glanced up when Prince raced ahead to greet him. "Good morning. I expected you to sleep later." He didn't smile or move to offer a kiss. His voice held more nonchalance than emotion. Today he didn't wear jeans and a sweater but his usual business suit.
It had been hard to sleep without him - without his warmth and protection after having it for so many nights. And it had been lonely. "Have you been up long?" She stopped on the opposite side of his desk, his manner not exactly welcoming.
He kept his eye on the computer screen. "Not long. I have a lot of work to catch up on. Ms. Van Hoodie is making breakfast in the kitchen." His fingers didn't even pause in the clicking on the keyboard.
The ache inside only grew. It had been nearly a day since he'd last seen her, and he offered no hug or sign that he'd missed the closeness that had developed during the honeymoon. She folded her hands together. His aloof manner made this uncomfortable. Perhaps he was stressed and tired. "Did you go to bed late?"
"I didn't get off the phone until nearly one o'clock in the morning." His eye lifted from the computer and cut straight through her. "We agreed four nights a week in the same room."
That stung, raw and hard. Clearly the terms set during the honeymoon were still in affect. And had apparently started last night. It hadn't occurred that the first night home from the honeymoon would be spent apart. She wrapped her arms around herself. "The door doesn't have to be closed." The connecting door had been open when she'd gone to bed.
"The whole point of it is for you to not see my face." His eye narrowed, seeming irritated by the conversation.
She stared in surprise. Something inside deep inside wrenched and tore open, releasing a wave of hurt. This wasn't the open, romantic man from the honeymoon who wore sweaters and jeans. This was the business man, the man with the mask and suit who kept everyone at arm's length. He was cool, clean, and...cold.
Perhaps he was stressed and tired. Or this was just how things were going to be - back to how they had been before the wedding; so perfectly guarded and each move calculated. The sting too much of a shock to even cry, she swallowed hard. He had no tolerance for her presence, so she turned and walked out without a word.
Trudy intercepted in the foyer. "Morning! I have my tapioca and flat cakes cooking..." The cheerfulness turned into concern and the woman laid a hand on her shoulder. "A goose in hay, what's the matter? Ya should be lit up like a firefly from the honeymoon, don'tcha know."
Trudy's voice carried, and Jason would probably hear. Him coming out from guilt was the last thing that would help the situation. She peeked over her shoulder and, sure enough, he came out.
Turning back to Trudy, she pasted on a smile and linked her arm through Trudy's. "Nothing's wrong. I'll help you." She pulled Trudy toward the kitchen.
Jason's office door slammed.
The woman's eyes widened. "Are ya havin' a spat already? Oh, that's none of my business. You come and have something to fill that belly."
Apparently she'd done something to hurt him yesterday. Avoiding each other wouldn't do anything and, dammit, this wasn't how this marriage would go. "I'll be right back." She spun around and stormed across the foyer, barging into his office without knocking.
That blue eye looked up and followed her march across the room. She dropped her hands on the opposite side of the desk, his angry look only irking her temper up a notch. "What are you so angry about?"
His jaw muscle flexed. "I didn't realize the three nights a week apart would start our first night home." He practically seethed and stood, gathering the mess of ledgers on the desk. "Compiled with your nonchalance, I'm not exactly in the best mood." Then he swept past to the bookshelf and put away the ledgers.
She blinked and turned to face him. "I thought you kept working because you didn't want to be around me. I waited for you in my room until midnight." The hurt leaked out in her voice.
He looked over his shoulder in surprise, and his hand still touched a ledger he'd just pushed onto the shelf. "I had a huge mess to clean up. I told you that, Emma." His voice softened a hint. "You were in your bed. I thought that meant you wanted to be left alone."
With a shake of her head, she leaned back against the desk. "I wasn't sure if it was alright to go to sleep in your bed, or if you need that to be your space if you're feeling overwhelmed." She bit her lip, the vulnerablity creating an ache for him to make it all better.
His arm dropped from the ledger and he frowned. "Is that why you left the connecting door open? As an invitation?"
She nodded and glanced away for a moment in self-consciousness. "I don't want things to go back to how they were before the honeymoon. I know you don't want to share a room and be smothered, but...I miss it."
Without looking, he jammed the last ledger on the shelf on top of other books and his legs ate up the distance to her. "I liked it too, Emma." He stood there, face-to-face without touching.
She lifted her eyes to his. "I don't want to drive you away like in Florida by being around too much, but I don't want a marriage where we're sleeping in separate rooms all the time either. I thought we got closer on the honeymoon - where we could talk if we were hurt."
He ran a hand through his hair and sighed. "We did. I mean, you ..." Dropping his hand, he stepped beside her and half sat on the desk too while keeping his gaze on the ground. "It was different not being here, Emma. Things felt free and safe. Coming back here, all the old insecurities rushed back. The minute we stepped through that door, I was relieved that there was a work emergency." His eye shifted to her, the sadness so prevalent. "I panicked that maybe it would hit you what it's going to be like living day in and day out with this." He gestured toward the mask. "Then when I found you in your own bed, I..."
"Assumed I meant it in the worst way," she filled in.
He nodded with a guilty look. "Forgive me, I shouldn't have assumed." Again, he sighed and then rubbed the back of his neck. "All these insecurities that disappeared on the honeymoon are back, and I don't know why."
She laid a hand on his arm. Too much of a jump in intimacy might spook him. "Is it the house? Maybe you're associating it with the accident."
"I don't know." He glanced at his watch and sighed. "I have an executive meeting in two minutes." Then he stood, the strain evident in his face. It faded for a moment as he studied her. "I have a spot open on the board yet."
With a smile, she stood too. "I should go start work." Then she pecked a kiss on his cheek. "I love you, Jay."
The disappointment reflected in his eye, but he took it with grace. "I love you too, Em." Then he walked around to sit at his desk, but his voice caught her before she reached the door. "If I'm late tonight, I hope to find you sleeping in my room."
The gentle invitation and hope in his voice tugged at her heart. Turning, she offered a soft smile. "You will, Jay."
His shoulders relaxed and he picked up the phone.
She turned and opened the door, catching part of the conversation.
"Hello, Leonard, it's Jason...yes, the honeymoon was wonderful...no, she hasn't." He made eye contact when she turned to close the door. "I agree that Emma would be amazing for the position. She knows it's hers if she changes her mind."
With a hint of guilt, she shut the door but leaned her forehead against it for a moment.
"I asked her again today, and I'm going to respect her decision. I won't press her into something she's uncomfortable with...I agree it's just that she doesn't have the self-confidence is the driver behind turning down the position, but I'm not going to abuse my position as her husband to make her do something she's uncomfortable with...Leo, I'm done discussing this." His voice took on a firm note. "Dial us in to the board meeting."
So Jason was taking heat for her not being on the board. He hadn't brought it up since December or passed along the pressure onto her to join, to his everlasting credit. Apparently he had the board convinced that she had amazing capabilities. Love could be so blind. She shook her head with a smile and went to the kitchen.
She sat at the kitchen table with Trudy and Pete for dinner. Jason had popped in during lunch long enough for a quick kiss and plate of food that Trudy had waiting for him before he'd disappeared again. Right at six o'clock, Jason strode in.
"Good evening." He swept past to a plate of food on the island counter, without offering a smile or kiss. "I expect to be done at eight. Are you finished working?" His gaze shifted to her. Tension hid in the crinkles at the corner of his eye.
"If you're still working, I'm going to catch up too." He didn't appear eager to finish work.
"Alright." He picked up his plate and hesitated.
Her heart beat faster. Maybe he'd invite her to dine. More than twenty-four hours and they'd barely spoken. There was so much to tell him about nothing at all - one of the joys of married life to have someone around each night to tell about the insignificant nuances of the day. Simply the pleasure of being intimate by sharing a meal or lying in the same bed at night with him made the giddiness bubble up enough to chatter all night.
"I'll see you later tonight." He left without a backwards glance.
The bubble burst, sending her heart floating to the floor in a deflated heap. Swallowing down the disappointment, she pasted on a smile and turned back to Trudy and Pete. "He's so behind with being gone two weeks and being the CEO and all."
"Very busy." Pete nodded but stared down at his nearly empty plate with fierce intensity.
Trudy nodded and dropped her gaze to her plate too. Then she and Pete glanced at each other with a look of pity.
She pushed the food around on her plate in miserable silence.
At eight o'clock, she sat on his bed in a small red lace teddy and red silk robe from Trudy's contribution of wedding wardrobe attire. A fire danced and crackled in the fireplace, offering a romantic golden glow.
Sitting was too stiff and unsexy. She spread out on her side. No, too brazen. So she slipped under the covers - too prudish. The doorknob turned. Flinging off the covers, she scrambled to her knees. No. Sitting was best. She shifted her weight. And got tangled in the robe and plopped onto her back. Dashing the hair out of her face just as he stepped in, she bent up her leg to give the illusion of the position being intentional and sexy.
He stopped in his tracks with his hand still on the doorknob. Silence.
Her face grew warm. Perhaps he didn't like it. She sat up and pulled the robe shut. "It's colder tonight than I thought. I'm going to change and..."
In three strides, he crossed the room and eased her down with light pressure on her shoulder while he remained standing. There was something about him - something sad and starving and aching. But he kept an emotional distance enough that nothing was clear - it was like looking through a fog to read him. The undertones of the emotions pulsed, but he remained aloof enough that it was impossible to do anything more than sense those emotions present in him.
He eased open the robe, sending her heart galloping. If he let a wall slip while making love, it might be possible to see what was wrong. Maybe he'd let her get closer and that intimacy from the honeymoon would return. Desire dilated his eye. His warm hands ran down her breasts and stomach and hips to stroke through the fabric between her thighs.
She arched up at the flood of warmth that burst at his touch. Her lips parted in a silent awe. Then he withdrew his hand and stroked down the insides of her thighs, creating shivers of desire. Biting her lip, she held fistfuls of the pillow to keep from reaching for him and scaring him away.
"Your time hasn't come?" His voice flow husky and low, void of emotion other than desire as he eased his weight to sit on the edge of the bed. When she shook her head, he ran his hands up her thighs. Nudging the thin lace aside, his finger stroked the core of her desire.
A soft gasp and her eyes closed as her back rolled. "Tomorrow," she breathed and clutched the pillow tighter.
The man continued the slow, glorious torture until her heart couldn't beat any faster. Then he withdrew his hand. His eye trailed up her body, drinking in every inch. But he didn't touch or make eye contact. "You're so willing to find pleasure in my touch." Pain eminated from his voice.
Her heart stumbled. "Jay?" She reached for him, concern dissipating the desire.
He caught her hand and held it down on the bed for a moment, as if saying to not touch. But his eye remained on her body, following where his other hand caressed over every curve, as if needing to memorize what it felt like to touch her. His wall slipped and incredible pain and grief filled his eye.
Her heart wrenched. Something terrible had happened. Something about him - related to his burns. "Jason?"
But he leaned down and pressed kisses over her belly and desire and thighs through the material, sending all coherent thought out the window. When she ran her fingers through his silky hair as he kissed her inner thigh, he pulled her hand away and created incredible pleasure where she needed him most.
She laid on the sheets, her chest still heaving and body too weak to move from the after effects when he sat up.
"Good night, my love," he whispered. In one fluid motion, he disappeared out the hallway door.
It took a few momens to comprehend what had just happened and to steady her legs. Then she pulled on a thick, fluffy robe of roses and padded through the halls in search of him. Earlier he had agreed to sleeping in the same room, but he had left sounding like he no longer had the intention of doing so. Something had deeply upset him, and he sure as hell wasn't going to shut himself up like a hermit again.
His office and the aboritum were empty. The cabin room showed no sign of him either. Room after room turned up nothing. She crossed the foyer from the kitchen when a crack in the doorframe of the library glowed orange. Stepping over to it, she knocked on the solid wood door and cracked it open.
He sat on the settee, leaning his elbows on his knees and facing the large fireplace.
She slipped in and knelt at his feet without a word. A full decantur of an amber liquid perched on the coffee table before him. The man never touched any form of drink because of his father. The fact that a full one was his companion made concern rise up.
That blue eye stared at the fire for several moments. "Be thankful for the scars, Emma. If I could, I would've downed the whole damn thing already. But having to go find a straw made me rethink it." No emotion came through his monotone voice, except for disgust.
"Jason, don't shut me out." She rose onto her knees and reached to touch his chin to turn his gaze. When he turned his head away and caught her hand, the breath froze on her lips. Drawing air hurt deep in her chest. Pulling her hand away, she sank back on her haunches in shock. She swallowed hard. "I don't understand what I've done these past two days to revolt you so much that you won't let me touch you anymore. Whatever it is, I'm sorry. I'd never try to hurt you, Jason."
He closed his eye and his throat convulsed in a hard swallow.
Tears welled. "But this is not fair to punish me when I don't even know what I did."
When he opened his eye and finally looked at her, a tear rolled down his cheek. "You did nothing wrong," he whispered, his voice failing him. "The honeymoon wasn't real life. I've damned you to a life you don't deserve."
Her brow furrowed. "What are you talking about? I wanted nothing more than to marry you - "
He pulled his phone out of the holster on his hip, unlocked the screen, and handed it to her.
It was a tabloid website. Her eyes only got as far as 'Billionaire Dr. Jason Port was seen...' She tossed it on the empty settee cushion.
He blinked. "Are you going to read it?"
Her eyes narrowed on his and her lips pursed with irritation. "It's trash. Why am I going to waste time reading it? And why did you?"
Anger glowed in his eye. He practically hissed. "Someone got a picture of me without the mask. And maybe I give a damn that my wife is being smeared in the media too."
The words died in her mouth with a bitter taste. Dear god, this wasn't happening. "How would've someone gotten your picture?"
"It's in the car we rented for Florida. I'm guessing that kid at the fast food place where we stopped."
Her stomach fell. The kid who had made the insult about having seen Jason's face. "That was months ago!"
"And it probably took months for the tabloids to figure out who I was because I've avoided any press with the Foundation."
The Foundation. A bell went off. "It wasn't a research emergency yesterday, it was meetings with the Foundation because this was leaked and you had to do damage control."
He snorted and stood to pace before the fire. "Rumors that some mangled man ran a plastic surgery hospital were easy enough to negate. A proof and picture of the irony...our numbers have dropped since this was released three days ago. Read the goddamn article."
It was a free children's hospital, with a stellar reputation. Who would not go there because of a rumor like this? She picked up the article that spewed about the beast-like billionaire marrying her. And then Carolyn's name popped in with a quote, and she swallowed down the bile that shot up in her throat.
The scars aren't as ugly as his heart. I'm in this jail and my baby is without a mother because of him. That pretty little wife of his has no idea what monster lies under the mask - a mask that she's never seen him without. He looks like the devil and is twice as evil. I don't know how he's running that hospital, but my child will never go there even if it is her last option to live.
"Why the hell did they interview her? How did they get a statement from her in jail?!" She threw down the phone on the settee. "And here is little miss innocent again being a holy terror." Surging to her feet, she crossed her arms over her chest. "Why did you get her an appeal?"
He stopped pacing and blinked. "What?"
"At first I thought you were trying to be forgiving or Christian or felt guilty leaving her baby without a mother. But this isn't about that. She's unstable, Jason, and even in jail she's coming after you!" She laid a hand on her chest. "I kept my mouth shut about it, but I want to know why you got her an appeal. The Feds were going to go after her - "
He exploded. "Because for her to go to prison would've meant you and Jack being dragged into court!" The veins in his neck bulged as he thrust a finger at the ground. "What I asked you to do was illegal and you'd be in that prison instead of her if we would've let the Feds go digging into it!"
"They knew! I was suspended for two weeks because of it - "
"Your boss pulled strings left and right to cover it up! Have you looked at your record?!" His eye sliced through her. "It doesn't say that you illegally hacked a company with a top-secret bug! So it wouldn't look suspicious, I reduced charges so they wouldn't dig too deep into the case! Olin promised that if I did that, you would stay out of prison!" Then a look of hurt betrayal crossed his face. "And thank you for the vote of confidence that I'm loyal to you." Then he whirled around and slammed the door.
She sank onto the settee and ran her hands over her face. Everything was spiraling out of control so fast, and she'd just made it worse. There had to be more to this. Things couldn't fall apart this fast without more driving it.
Picking up the phone, she tried to unlock it. Not her birthday or his or their anniversary. Then she typed in the day they'd met - 1213. It unlocked. It wasn't so much the article that said much more. She scrolled down to the comments. Luckily, no one seemed to put the two together of Andrew O'Malley and Jason Port both having burned faces. But then again, the world had seen Andrew freshly burned and believed him dead.
Snide and cruel comments danced across the screen, but it was one in particular that broke her heart.
That poor wife. If he loved her, he wouldn't marry her. Has he thought about what he's done to her life? The stares and whispers she's become a part of? And children will be ostracized. I hope they don't have children. His wife married a monster.
That had to be the comment that had shaken him, made him doubt himself and that marriage to him had been the best choice for her.
His wife is so hot. I read about her in the paper a few years ago in a rape trial and now she ends up with this beast of a husband? I'll show her what a real man is like.
More comments branched off of that.
Ditto that. I'd bang her too. How do the freaks always get the hot girls? I can be freaky if that's what she wants.
Guys, keep it clean on the forum. The girl obviously feels sorry for that guy. I mean, it's gotta be rough being that disfigured, and his mouth too. He probably doesn't get any female attention and deserves for a hot girl to take pity on him.
What a loser. Feel sorry for that girl in jail and his wife. I couldn't stand having a man like that in my bed. She'd better keep the bedroom door locked at night.
What a psycho freak! And they let him run a children's hospital?! What the &#*$!
On and on the comments went, more of them focused on his looks than the actual accusations Carolyn had made. So many of them painted him as a beast who was so far beneath her and had ruined her life. These comments had gotten in his head and spooked him. She hurried out to find him.
He stood at the front door with his back to her and pulled on his coat. The clank of keys dangled from his hand.
At first panic surged up and then anger. She marched across the foyer, her bare feet silent on the marble floor, and snatched the keys out of his hand when he adjusted his neck collar.
He startled and whirled around. "Emma!" The man reached for the keys.
She held them back. "What the hell are you doing? You can't drive down the mountain, and you sure as hell aren't doing it in the dark during winter!"
The man's face flushed and his eye narrowed, looking ready to fully explode. "What else am I too mangled to do?"
"I'm not playing that game." Flinging the keys, they sailed through the air and landed with a clang to skid across the floor thirty feet away. Then she grabbed his lapels to keep him there. His body vibrated with rage on the verge of being unleashed. A year ago it would've been terrifying to face a man's wrath, but this was Jason, the man who would never harm her. "Stop it. I didn't mean what I said about Caro - "
In the blink of an eye, he grabbed her wrists and whirled around to press her against the cool wood door. "Don't touch me like I'm your goddamn knight. You made a grave error and wed the dragon," he hissed.
The self-loathing that ripped him apart sliced right through her, so agonizing that she couldn't breathe. The hot breath of the dragon that should've burned was merely a welcomed warmth against the chill of the night.
"You wait for me in these clothes like waiting for a lover," he snarled and released one wrist to jerk open the robe and run a hand down her body. "A beast doesn't make love; a beast fucks." He spat the words with such anger.
She searched his face so filled with grief and loneliness. Her heart beat with steady calmness to be strong for him because he was falling apart. Stroking his cheek, she needed to spare him from the pain in whatever way possible. "I know you're lashing out to push me away because you're hurting. You wouldn't hurt or frighten me." Her voice carried no stronger than a whisper, and yet it was like it shattered him. "No matter how upset you are, I know you'd be gentle."
The anger dissipated. His lips pressed together as his face crumpled. And then he sank to his knees, taking her heart down with him. He held onto her hips and leaned his forehead against her belly, despair rippling from him in massive, drowning waves.
Cradling his head, she swallowed hard as a tear fell from her lashes. There was more - he carried so much shame that kept him silent and suffering alone. "I love you, Jason." She ran her fingers through his silky hair and pressed a kiss to those black locks. "I wish you would tell me what's going on. I'm right here and not going to leave."
The next morning, she woke up to an empty bed. His sheets were cool beside her. He'd not spoken a single word last night but had avoided any physical contact - besides brushing a kiss over her hand before rolling away and going to sleep.
She got up and padded back to her own room to dress. Then she wandered downstairs where he stood behind his desk packing a briefcase. "Are you going somewhere?" Her heart beat faster. He wore a tie, which only occurred on Mondays for Mass and board meetings. Dread plunked like a rock in her stomach.
"The Foundation. I'll be gone for a few days." He didn't even look up.
Something in his tone sounded like he was going to the guillotine. "I can grab my laptop and work from an empty office or - "
He shook his head, closed the suitcase, and swept past with a kiss to her forehead. "I'll see you in three days."
She caught his hand. "Jason, please talk to me. You're hurting and I don't understand why. Let me come with you."
The man still seemed unable to look her in the eye. "Thank you but it's best if you don't come." He squeezed her hand and disappeared out the door.
Staring in surprise for a moment, she raced after him. But the car was gone. Pulling out her phone, she punched out a text message. The phone chirped before she hit Send.
Forgive me for blowing up at you last night. I don't want you to think this is me running away from you because of that. It's about the Foundation. I'm...I'm having a hard time facing you and I'm taking the coward's way out by not telling you why yet. I beg you to not come to California - I wouldn't be able to bear the shame I'd bring you. I'm sure by the time I return you'll have heard it in the news. Whatever you decide when I get back, I'll respect it.
I love you,
J
His phone went to voicemail, so she texted.
I don't know what you're talking about. I'll love you no matter what. You promised we wouldn't have walls like this, that you would trust me even when your head says not to. You're spooked and I think it has to do with the tabloids. I know it seems like the world is turning on you again and things are spinning out of control. They're preventing you from seeing me. Close your eyes and hold out your hand. I'm right here; I haven't moved, Jason.
I love you, Emma.
No further reply came. She swept through the house and found Trudy dusting her office. "What is this about?" she demanded. "What decision that I'll make?"
Trudy looked at her with big eyes. "I beg your pardon." Trudy read the text on the phone while she paced. "I don't know." Then Trudy handed the phone back and looked at her with huge eyes.
The next hour may as well have been a hundred years for Pete's return from driving to the airport. The man looked glum and weary when he stepped through the door.
She shot up from her seat on the stairs and rushed forward with a suitcase, her stomach eating itself inside-out. "Pete, something's wrong and he's going to the Foundation, but he said for me not to come. I think he needs me there. Take me to the airport. He is being so damn stoic and stubborn." She jerked on her coat.
Pete didn't move. "We're not going to the airport." The words fell flat and depressed at their feet. He ran a hand over his face and looked ill when she blinked. "I heard bits of his phone conversation in the car. I shouldn't say, but..." Pete pulled off his scarf and it hung from his hand to dangle limp on the floor. "Emma, he's drowning and there's nothing for us to do but watch." His shoulders slumped in despair.
Trudy bustled out from the kitchen and wiped her hands on a dishtowel. "What's going on? Dr. Port hasn't at all been like himself since returning home, don'tcha know."
The man seemed hesitant.
"Go on, Pete. We're all family. What did you hear?" she coaxed.
His eyes rose to hers, as if heartbroken over what he'd heard in the car. "From what I could gather, investors are threatening to back out because of the shitty stunt the media pulled. A meeting was called...he's resigning as CEO."
"What?!" Trudy screeched.
The room dipped. "They're forcing him to resign?" Oh god, the resignation alone would devastate him, but compounding it with the media and public shame...it'd damage what confidence he'd gained since the fire. It already was damaging him. There was no one who could save him from this.