Jane's Surrender (Hard World Tour #2) (14 page)

She also had a sort of connection to Ryan, which didn’t make me happy exactly. I didn’t have anything against him, but we didn't share any brotherly bond.

I think that ship sailed a long time ago.

Those two weeks without her were torture. It was impossible not to jack off in the shower at the thought of her and our time. I tried to forget myself in work, but it didn’t help.

I was hurt that she didn't even want to give us a chance, but I couldn't force a woman to love me, or want me, for that matter.

She had to come see me. I had to make certain she felt nothing before I let her go.

Until she did that, I would hold on to her.

No matter what.

Three months after Las Vegas

Drake

“
Hey, Mom.”

“
Hey, sweetie, I was about to call you!” she shouted in my ear excitedly.

“
Sorry, I’ve been difficult to reach lately.”

“
It’s okay, sweetie, but I wanted to talk to you about your job.”

I leaned back in my office chair and frowned at her words. “What about it?”

“
Honey, although you’re a psychologist, it doesn’t change the fact it’s not all you do.”

“
Meaning?”

“
You refused to be CEO of Jackson’s Hotels. I didn't see that coming.” Well, news traveled fast.

“
And you are happy about it?” If anything, I expected her to bite my head off for this. The heir was always supposed to be the CEO. I would have taken it gladly, if my dad hadn’t fathered another son by another woman.

“
Of course!” Then her voice lowered. “It was never something you wanted to do. It’s good you’ve stepped out to give Ryan his place.” My hands fisted of their own accord at the mention of my half-brother’s name. Technically, he was younger than I was by two months, but still.

Needless to say, we didn’t get along, and not once in the last ten years since the truth was discovered, had we talked.

Neither of us wanted to hang out with the other, period.

Our dad tried. All those family gatherings where one of us showed up ‘accidentally,’ but it never worked. He gave up on the idea around our twenty-first birthdays.

“
Yeah, good for Ryan.”

“
He knows what to do and he likes it. At the same time, you still have shares, can invest in the clinic, and work in your chosen field. Your dad obviously isn't happy, but then, I don’t really give a crap what Donald cares about.” She laughed, and it finally dawned on me that she talked about dad without bitterness in her voice.

What changed?

“
Mom.” I hadn’t been sure it was the best time to start the conversation, but she was my mom, and I was going fucking crazy. I needed to talk to someone.

“
What, honey?”

“
Were you in love with Dad?”

The only response I got was silence, but I could still hear her breathing, so it meant she didn't hang up on me.

“
Well, I—” She cleared her throat. “That was an unexpected question. I was, yes, like crazy actually.” She chuckled, but pain was in the sound and it tugged at my heart. “He never loved me, though, Drake, and as much as he tried to make things work for your sake…he couldn’t. He never shouted at me, disrespected me, or cheated on me.” She paused. “At least during our marriage. But subconsciously, I always knew he didn’t love me. He had those quiet moments where he would sit and look into space, and I understood he was far away from me. It usually took several times to call his name before he snapped out of it. Now I know that he thought about
her.
”

Her voice hitched, but she continued, “So when the truth came to light, he couldn't take it anymore, and well, now, I understand why. At the time, I was very angry, but since I met Tom…I understand real love.” Mom remarried a few years ago to a real estate agent, Tom, who was several years younger than she was, but they were madly, deeply in love.

I was glad my mom had it.

“
Thanks, Mom. Sorry if I brought up some unpleasant memories.”

“
Honey…who is she?”

Her words made me freeze and I sat up straight. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“
You never asked about love before, and you’re my son. You’re in love, honey, and I couldn't be happier,” she whispered softly, but for some reason, I hated her words.

“
She doesn’t love me, Mom. She loves someone else.” It was hard not to be bitter about it, and wasn't it ironic? I was my mother in this equation, someone Jane just didn't love.

“
Is she married?” Now my mom’s voice was angry, like a mama bear defending her cub, and it brought a smile to my face.

“
She’s married to me.”

“
She’s what?!” I had to take my phone away from my ear, because she screamed so loud. “You got married and didn’t think to call me, or invite me, for that matter? And since she is your wife, why isn't she in love with you?”

If only I had good answers for her. “Because it was a Vegas wedding, Mom. She wants nothing to do with me.”

“
Fix it then,” she said firmly, and I laughed.

“
How the hell am I’m supposed to fix it? I won’t give her a divorce unless she will see me again, and she doesn’t allow me any other contact.”

“
Men are truly stupid,” she groaned. “Even you, who is supposed to know the human mind perfectly, are clueless about women. Honey, blackmailing her and withholding her freedom from her won’t get you the result you want.”

“
I’m trying to make her come see me. It’s not blackmail. I’m asking for a chance here.” Mom was painting an unhealthy image of me.

“
Really? Did you give her any other choice?”

“
I’m desperate here, Mom.” And why the hell did it sound like I was apologizing for my behavior? I did nothing wrong.

“
Then woo her,” she said excitedly.

“
Woo her?”

“
Yes, send her flowers, chocolates; try to get her attention by showing her respect. Honey, you do know how to woo a woman, right?”

How the hell was I supposed to know that? I never dated much just for the sake of dating, and the last time I bought someone flowers was for prom night.

But Mom was right. The woman needed to be wooed, and that’s what I would do.

“
You’re a genius, Mom. Love you.”

She laughed. “I know I am. Just let me meet my new daughter-in-law once you do that, okay?”

“
If she’ll have me.”

“
I’m sure she will,” she said softly.

I wanted to share her confidence.

Six months after Las Vegas

Jane

The doorbell rang so loudly my ears hurt, so ignoring it was impossible. I groaned into the pillow and wished whoever was there would just give up, but they still rang. I glanced at the alarm clock on the bedside table and noticed it was eight in the morning.

I would fucking kill whoever it was. I swear!

Pushing my covers aside, I put my feet on the soft carpet, went to the door, and opened it swiftly, not caring I was only in a t-shirt and pajama shorts.

“
What?” I growled, making the guy on the other side of the door jump. He was holding a big bouquet of roses and a box. His facial expression was terrified, as it should be. “You don’t have any other delivery time?” Every damn morning, he came to my door and rang the bell at this hour.

“
I’m sorry; the request for delivery is always for the morning,” he said apologetically, and then pushed a notepad in my hand. “Could you please sign here?” With a frustrated sigh, I took the pen, signed it, and gave it back to him, and without another word, I took the box and flowers, and slammed the door in his face.

I had been rude, but whatever. Who the hell wakes people up at this hour? And it wasn't as if he needed the tips; apparently, they had been covered already by the person who sent all this to me. I took the flowers and put them in a vase, which was full already. My whole apartment had smelled like a freaking flower shop for the last three months, and I had almost no place to move.

Unlike my friends, I didn't want to live in the penthouse. I figured it was too big for me alone. So I chose an apartment on the twentieth floor, which opened onto a great view of New York and was thirty minutes away from our studio. It had two bedrooms, a living room, a kitchen, and two bathrooms. Nothing was inside the apartment except flowers, a closet full of clothes, and a bed with a nightstand in my room. I had never had time to put everything in place, but since I bought it almost two years ago, I figured I should probably hire some designers or simply ask Mom for help.

I opened the box with a tug, and inside I found a box of chocolates (another one) and CD of a Queen’s concert. How he knew they were one of my favorite bands, I had no clue. After putting it all back inside, I took the box to the spare bedroom where I kept them all, so no one would see them.

I padded back to my bed and stared up at the ceiling. The AC made me have goose bumps, and I wondered when he would stop.

Drake sent me all these gifts, refused to give me a divorce, but kept asking for one meeting. The part of me that was a hopeless romantic found the gestures beautiful and amusing, but the other part, the one that wanted to put this whole thing behind me, was annoyed with him and had the deep need to smack him for it.

The card on the flowers always said the same thing.

Have a good day, beautiful.

Drake

He was persistent; I would give him that.

On impulse, I grabbed my phone, and without thinking, quickly wrote what was on my mind.

<
Me
> When will you stop?

In a minute, my phone beeped.

<
Drake
> Never.

Why? Why had my stupid heart decided to start beating faster right then?

<
Me
> Look, it’s not that I don’t appreciate the gesture really. Love the flowers and those gifts. But this has to stop. Just sign the damn papers.

<
Drake
> Not until you come to see me. What are you afraid of, Jane?

I couldn't answer his question. I wasn't sure I even wanted to know the answer to that question. Somehow, the idea of seeing him then signing the papers seemed too hard for me to do; it seemed impossible.

<
Me
> Nothing. Drake, could you at least change your delivery time? I wake up at eleven, you know.

<
Drake
> No. Eight is good. That way I’m on your mind as soon as you wake up, both times, and I like that idea.

<
Me
> I just bet you do.

<
Drake
> :)

There wasn’t much else to say, so I turned off my phone, tossed it on the carpet, and covered myself with the blanket from head to toe.

Like this could hide me from Drake and his presence.

Nine months after Las Vegas

Jane

Nothing was more beautiful than a Christmas tree with tons of presents under it, in my opinion. The huge-ass tree was standing in the middle of the room at my parents’ penthouse on the Upper East Side. The tip with a bright yellow star almost reached the ceiling. The heavy branches were decorated with different Christmas balls. Toys and big boxes of gifts were hidden under it.

Mom and Dad had a thing for gifts. Even though Ben and I stopped believing in Santa long ago, they still signed them ‘from Santa.’ We indulged their decision, but Ben kept on rolling his eyes and laughing with me when they couldn't see.

We were sitting at the table, and he was putting mashed potatoes on my plate at the same time talking about his new thing. Mom went all out during holidays. We had enough food to feed an army. On the table was a big plate of Veggie Arrosto Misto, brussels with hustle, rice with salmon, Christmas roast, a Christmas turkey, mashed potatoes, and French fries (because Ben begged), Christmas casseroles, and some more stuff I neither recognized nor tried. I knew there was dessert too, but Mom always kept it a big secret until it was time for a cup of tea with something sweet.

My phone vibrated, and I checked it with a smile on my face.