rage. He was proud to see this glorious, momentous thing that Mason himself had ignited.
“I know you,” Daulton growled, leaning forward in his chair despite his wife’s delicate hand on his bicep. “You’re that good-for-nothing stable boy who put your hands on my daughter.”
It was more than just my hands. Maybe he should keep that thought to himself. See, Kane, I do have control. “Actually, I am good for something...as a matter of fact, several...million...somethings...” That little bit of emphasis felt oh, so good. “And I’m no longer just a stable boy.”
Daulton turned his laser look on his daughter, who stepped back as if to hide. “I told you I would never allow a filthy Harrington in one of my beds. I’ll never let that happen.”
“Oh, I don’t need one of your beds,” Mason assured him. “I just bought a nice, expensive one of my own. I’ll just take the room it belongs in.”
“You aren’t getting it from me,” Daulton growled.
This time, Mason matched him tone for tone. “You sure about that?”
The other man’s eyes widened, showing the whites as he processed that this Harrington wasn’t a kid who was gonna meekly take his vitriol. “The likes of you could never handle these stables with success,” he bellowed. “You’ll fold in a year.”
“Maybe. Maybe not. But that will be decided by me.” Satisfaction built inside as he said it, and he let a grin slip free. “Not you.”
He could tell by the red washing over Daulton’s face that he got Mason’s drift. The older man started to stand. Mason realized he was gripping the side of his chair with an unusually strong grip.
“Daulton,” his wife whispered in warning.
But the old man was too stirred up to heed her, if he even heard her in the first place. Mason felt his exultation at besting the monster of his dreams drain to dismay as Daulton took a step forward...then collapsed to the floor.
A cry rang out, maybe from EvaMarie’s mom. But everyone rushed forward except Mason, who stood frozen in confusion.
With Clive’s help, the women got Daulton turned over and sitting upright, though he was still on the floor. Mason studied the droop of the man’s head, even as his back remained turned to Mason.
Kneeling next to her father in dusty sweatpants and a T-shirt, hair thrown up into a messy bun, EvaMarie still had the look of a society princess when she glanced over at Mason. Her calm demeanor, cultivated through hours of cotillion classes, couldn’t have been more sphinxlike. “Could you excuse us for a moment, please?” she said quietly. She didn’t plead, but her gaze expected him to do as she asked.
He’d never been able to resist that dark blue, forget-me-not gaze, always so full of suppressed emotions that he wanted to mine.
Then she tilted her head in the direction of the door to the hallway. For once, he didn’t have that unbidden urge to challenge that came over him when he was faced with authority. Especially Hyatt authority. Obviously there was more going on here than he was aware of.
Turning, he let himself back out into the hall, wondering if he’d be able to forget the impression that his brother had been right. This wasn’t going how he pictured it...at all.
* * *
EvaMarie could feel her hands shaking as she finally left behind the drama in the living room to face Mason in the hall. Out of the frying pan and into the fire, as the old saying went. Her body felt like she’d been put in a time machine. All the devastating feelings from that long ago confrontation in the barn—the day her teenage world imploded—had come rushing back the minute her father had raised his voice at Mason.
She’d spent a lot of time throughout her life walking on eggshells, trying not to light her father’s fuse. By the time she’d grown a semblance of a backbone, the angry man he’d been had mostly disappeared. He reappeared only during times of high stress, and it was all EvaMarie could do not to give in to her childhood fears.
Now she had to face Mason—with no time for deep breaths or wrapping herself in invisible armor. Just hunkering down, enduring—just like most of her days now. The fact that he was actually here, in this house with her right now, seemed completely surreal, but the derision on his face had been very real.
There had been no doubt in her mind how he felt about her after all these years. She should take solace in the fact that he hadn’t completely forgotten her. But she had a feeling she wasn’t gonna feel better about him, or this situation, any time soon.
Maybe a little diplomacy would smooth the way...
“Congratulations, Mason,” she said as she approached him with measured steps, trying not to take stock of the new width of his shoulders beneath a fitted navy sports jacket that she never would have pictured him wearing, even if it was paired with a pair of dark jeans and cowboy boots. Talk about surreal...
He turned from his study of the formal dining room to face her, then raised a cool brow. How could he portray arrogance with just that simple movement? “For what?”
“Obviously, you done well to be able to afford—”
“—to no longer be pushed around by people, just because they have more money than me?”
Her entire self went very still. His words told her everything she needed to know—how Mason viewed his childhood, their breakup and her in this moment.
It told her one other thing: he was going to find a lot of satisfaction in this scenario.
Maybe it would be best to focus on business. “So, what can I do for you?” she asked, though she had a feeling he wasn’t gonna make it easy...
“That tour I mentioned.” He waved his hand in the direction of the stairs. “Lead the way.”
EvaMarie simply could not catch a break. She could almost feel his gaze as she took deliberate steps down the rest of the hall, pointing out various rooms.
He wasn’t even subtle in his gibes... “Can’t say I’m loving what you’ve done with the place. This version has taken the concept of ‘simplify’ to a whole new level, I believe.”
She couldn’t even argue, because she agreed with him. The state of her family home was a drain on her emotional equilibrium every day. But having someone else point it out...well, it certainly hurt.
Should she admit she’d sold off all but her mother’s family heirlooms to keep them afloat? Yeah, his reaction to that would be fun. Just one more thing to mock her with.
So she kept silent on that topic, instead launching into a knowledgeable diatribe on the parquet floor pattern, imported tile and other amenities her father had spared no expense on. All the little details she’d spent a lifetime learning that would be useless once she was driven away—but for now she could use them to keep herself from admitting the truth.
She’d done what she could, but the estate was going under, and there wasn’t a whole heck of a lot she could do to stop it.
“You’re getting a good deal,” she said, trying to keep any emotion from her voice.
“A
