Moment of Weakness (Embracing Moments Book 1) (36 page)

My back rested against the soft leather chair positioned in front of my father’s desk, and as I stared at the hundreds of papers scattered between us, I struggled to catch my breath. Turns out the black folder had contained everything—everything about my mother’s death, my father’s hit, and Roman. The answers to every question I had ever had lay sprawled out before me. My hands shook, my heart rested in my stomach, and my mind was stuck somewhere between denial and delusion. My father hadn’t said a word as he looked over every page, but the expressions on his face made it easy to identify the emotions he was experiencing.

“What do you want to do, Ben?” Theo’s voice broke the heavy silence in the room and I didn’t need to turn around to know he was standing in the door way.

With his hands clenched together under his chin, my father closed his eyes and blew out a breath. “I want the fucker to rot in hell.”

“He will. Whether it’s in this life or the next. I promise you he will get everything he has coming to him, and Grace will get the justice she deserves.”

Grabbing an empty folder from his drawer, my father sorted through the papers, pulling certain ones from the mass and stuffing them into the manila folder. When he finished, he handed it across the desk, waiting for me to grab it.

Confusion swept across my face. “What is this?”

“Anything that has to do with Roman. We agreed he wouldn’t be a part of this. Look over them if you want and then destroy them.” I nodded and took the folder into my shaky hands.

“Theo, make the call. If this isn’t enough evidence, then I don’t know what is.” My father’s voice went grave as he stared at my mother’s picture on his desk.

Grant Evans was arrested two days later. He would have been arrested sooner, but the DA wanted to comb through all the evidence to make sure they had a tightly sealed case. After thirteen years, he would finally pay for his crimes. He was going to spend the rest of his life in prison, and I sure as heck hoped he’d drop the soap.

Grant was not only responsible for the hit on my mother, but he was also behind the threatening phone calls and the hit on my father. He wanted everything and my mother got in the way of that. Although she had no direct control of my father’s businesses, it was her ideas and opinions that influenced my father’s decisions. At the time, Grant hadn’t been set to inherit anything. If anything happened to my father, it would all go to her. Grant knew this, and it pissed him off. He couldn’t stand my mother, and she hated him just as much. There was no way she would ever allow him to get his filthy, greedy hands on more than what he was entitled to. And in her eyes—that wasn’t much. So what did he do? He paid to get rid of her—completely eliminate her from the equation.

With my mother no longer in the picture, Grant manipulated my father into making decisions that my mother would have advised against. My father had fallen apart after my mother died, and while my father had been convinced Grant was being a good friend, a loyal business partner, he was really taking advantage of my father’s suffering. He rebuilt the trust between him and my father, but it was trust built with ulterior motives.

For the past thirteen years, Grant had controlled everything. It didn’t seem like it then, but it was clear as day now, and it was the only reason we could come up with. The only reason why he hadn’t attempted to kill my father sooner. Why waste more money when my father was giving into every suggestion—every command? And can you imagine how thrilled he must have been when he found out I wanted nothing to do with the businesses? After so many years, the ball was in his court. All he needed to do was wait for the perfect shot.

And that time came as soon as he found out he would get it all. To this day, we still aren’t sure how he figured it out, but this was Grant, the liar, the manipulator, the murderer. He knew the moment something happened to my father, he would inherit everything. He didn’t care about the clause that stated I’d be taken care of, because in the grand scheme of things, that was such a small amount compared to the billions of dollars in revenue each year. All he had to do now was get rid of my father.

The threatening calls had come from him directly. Guess he didn’t realize those would ultimately be his downfall. It was those calls that had caused my father to increase security. Those calls had brought Roman to us. Roman was being honest when he said he accepted the contract under false pretenses. The target profile made my father into something he wasn’t. Someone who hid behind his businesses, using them to fund several illegal operations. Operations that included illegal arms trade and drug trafficking just to name a few. It was crazy and somewhat laughable for anyone who knew my father. Everything was going according to plan. I was going to be in Europe for the summer. Roman was hired as just another security guard, waiting for the perfect opportunity to take his hit.

Coming home had thrown a curve ball into Roman’s perfectly planned pitch. My father had assigned him to be my personal detail, and what seemed like a simple in-and-out contract for him suddenly became much more.

The break in that occurred was a motion set into place by Grant. He had become impatient. He had paid one hell of a sum for my father’s hit, and while he had no idea who the inside guy was, he wanted to know why the best of the best was stalling. I wasn’t supposed to be home that weekend. I was supposed to attend the business trip with him and my father. It actually worked in his favor. Grant used the attack as another perfect opportunity to get to my father. Tired of waiting, he hired someone else. An amateur. Someone who would go in, get the job done, and not give a damn about anything except for the money in his pocket. If it would have been a professional that day after the gala, my father would have died. Roman would have died.

Grant’s hands may not have been the ones to commit the crimes, but his mouth was the one that gave the orders. Grant was behind bars where he belonged, and the threat that hung over my father was completely eliminated. I still don’t understand how Roman had figured it all out, but I’m glad he did. Because I finally had all the answers. Answers to the questions I had spent the majority of my life trying to figure out.

SITTING ON THE
bed, I stared out at my room. Lacey sat across from me on the floor, one leg crossed over the other. It had been three weeks since Grant was arrested, almost four weeks since I had seen Roman, and in a few days, I’d be leaving for school. A lot had changed in such a short amount of time. Lacey’s father had worked through his connections, and my transfer paperwork had been processed in a matter of days. I was on my way to becoming a Harvard alumnus. After thorough conversations with my father, I decided psychology wasn’t for me. I never pictured myself part of the business world, but now, it had never felt more right. So when I received my approval letter for my apartment, I declined and immediately looked for available units in and around Cambridge. While I ultimately decided to move into the same condo building as Lacey, we figured it would be safer if we did in fact have our own places. We were adults, and well, I didn’t want to worry about walking in on her and her latest adventure.

“Do you have everything?” she asked, looking at the endless suitcases that littered my floor.

I let out a loud breath and an anxious smile. “Yeah, I think so.”

She squealed and jumped to her feet. “I’m so freaking excited! You have no idea.” She threw her arms around me.

“Me too,” I said, excited to start this new chapter in my life. Lacey sat beside me, and as she did, I couldn’t help but feel like something was off about her. She was always so bubbly, and lately she didn’t seem like herself. Not since my birthday. I bumped my shoulder against hers. “What’s going on with you?”

A slight frown appeared on her pink lips, and she masked it with a smile. “I’m fine.” She smiled larger, but it wasn’t genuine. “I’m fine, Jules.”

She was so full of crap, but I let it go. It was obvious whatever was bothering her, she wasn’t ready to talk about it. She’d come around, and when she did, I just hoped I’d be the one she’d open up to. A knock rattled against my large oak door, and my father peeked his head through the crack.

“Hey, Dad,” I said, twisting to face him.

“I know you ladies are having your girl time . . . er, women time . . . or whatever you call it, but I was wondering if I could have a few minutes with Julia.”

Lacey smiled and jumped to her feet. “Sure thing, Mr. Parker.” She pecked a kiss against my cheek, told me she’d call me later, and walked out the door.

My father took the space beside me where Lacey had been sitting just seconds ago.

“What’s up, old man?”

He grinned. “A lot of things. The ceiling—the sky—”

I clubbed his shoulder with my fist. “Very funny.”

His grin faded and a more serious expression dug into his features. “You’re leaving in a few days, and well, I wanted to talk to you.” Just like his body, his tone stiffened. “I’m worried about you.”

“I’m fine, Dad.”

His brows narrowed. “Are you?”

“Yeah,” I said, trying to reassure him.

“You don’t smile anymore.”

“I do too,” I countered.

He shook his head. “No, not like you use to. You lost it.”

I blew out a sigh and stood to my feet. “Dad, please.” I knew where he was going with this conversation, and I didn’t want to go there. Not now.

“I know he lied. I know he hurt you—”

“He was hired to kill you, Dad!” I yelled, cutting him off. Why did it seem like I was the only one who knew this—the only one that had a problem with it?

“You’re right, he was. But instead he saved us. He saved you, Julia. He saved me, and I’m not just talking physically.” I stared at my father, trying to make sense of what he was trying to say. “For the past thirteen years, Julia, I was made to believe my wife killed herself. Despite what everyone said, I refused to accept that answer. Your mother loved life, Julia—she loved us. And if it wasn’t for Roman, Grant wouldn’t be in jail. The peace I now feel in my heart is because of Roman. I will be forever indebted to him for figuring out the truth. I know he has a past, but you changed him, and there is not a doubt in mind that what he felt for you was real.” My father rose to his feet. “You have every right to be mad. Every right to decide who deserves a place in your heart. But when you were with him . . . I’d never seen you more alive. And anyone who can make my daughter feel alive is someone who deserves a second chance in my book.”

My eyes stung as I watched my father lean over and pull open my nightstand drawer. Reaching in, he pulled out the small box that rested in the front right corner and pulled the lid from it. His fingers moved to unhook the clasp of the necklace and then draped it around my neck. As he clasped it shut, he said, “Just think about it,” and then walked out the door. I wanted to ask him how he knew about the necklace, but I let it go.

Dropping to my bed, I sighed. The past four weeks had taken its toll on me, and I’d give anything for my mind to be saved from the hell it was in. Reaching my hand between my mattress and box spring, I pulled out the manila folder my father had given me weeks ago. I hadn’t been able to bring myself to open it. That folder held a whole lot of truth, and I wasn’t sure what I was afraid of more—knowing who Roman was and still being in love with him—or knowing and being afraid of hating him.

Moving to the center of my bed, I rested against my tufted headboard and pulled my knees up in front of me. I placed the folder against them and opened it, allowing the papers to fall to my lap. As I picked them up and read through them, my entire chest felt uncomfortable. My heart hurt, my lungs struggled to take a decent breath, and the muscles in my stomach clenched so tight I felt nauseated.

Pictures, journal entries, and endless papers filled with nothing but sad history. Roman had lost so much more than his family—he had lost his chance at having a normal life. Silent tears rolled down my cheeks as I combed through Roman’s entire life. I had convinced myself that I had seen enough, but then my eyes landed on a piece of notebook paper written in Roman’s handwriting. It looked identical to all the other torn journal entries that filled the folder, except this page didn’t have a date.