Completely. Fucking. Torn.
Gavin’s heart split at the seams; he swore he heard it ripping open. He couldn’t deny the truth in Emily’s words. He knew missing any one of those things could put him in his grave. Every single one of those reasons owned a little piece of something that added up to everything he was looking forward to. Everything he existed for. On the other hand, his gut wretched at the thought of sharing any of those moments with Dillon. The whole situation was poisonous on its own, but now, Dillon would douse it with the last bit of arsenic. In those seconds, as Gavin watched Dillon emerge from the bathroom, something Gavin’s father had said to him years earlier flittered through his mind.
“Son, sometimes being a man means you have to know when to drop the heavy sword you’re holding during a battle. If the reason you’re fighting for is already wounded, you need to count your losses and put a stop to senseless pain. While your head may hang low in defeat, the outcome will end in your favor. Honor isn’t found in victory. It’s found within the wounded reason that needed you from the start.”
Dillon was the battle…
Emily was already wounded…
And here and now, she needed him to concede defeat. He only prayed the outcome would indeed end in his favor. Gavin leaned into Emily, his lips a whisper away from hers. Closing his eyes, he inhaled the vanilla scent of her skin. “I need you to trust me right now, Emily. With everything you have in you, I need you to trust I would never do wrong by you or this baby. Can you do that for me?”
“Yes,” she quietly cried, her breath warm against his face.
“Good. I need you to play along with me starting right now. Get up.”
Emily nodded, her gaze ripping from Gavin’s when Dillon took a seat. She stood, and Gavin slipped from the booth, reaching for her hand.
He looked at Dillon, who appeared confused. Placing his palm on the table, Gavin hunched over, his eyes narrowed. “You think you’ve won, but you haven’t, Dillon. Not only have you tried to insult my intelligence by assuming I’d cave to your psychotic requests before seeking legal counsel, you’ve insulted the woman I love. That really pissed… me… off. You think I’m the type of man who would allow you in the delivery room while you get off on seeing Emily in pain? Wrong again, asshole. I’d rather die in prison than watch you enjoy any more happiness from her pain.”
Letting go of Emily’s hand, Gavin leaned in closer. Dillon slid away, his back flush against the wall. “While you were draining your snake, I called my family. They’re prepared to take care of Emily and the baby for as long as I’m away. And let me remind you my father’s a lawyer. He also spends weekends playing golf, drinking, and barbequing with some of Manhattan’s highest criminal judges. But that’s not even the best I have for you, Dillon. In all the confusion and mayhem over the last thirty minutes, my head became… twisted. When that happens, I sometimes forget things. It just occurred to me I know some information about you that can send your whole world spinning to the fucking ground as well.”
At this, Dillon lifted a curious brow, his eyes as narrowed as Gavin’s.
“Ah yes, my friend,” Gavin continued. A slow “I’ve got you now motherfucker” smirk slid across his mouth. “I know about your big ticket. You’re churning out your transaction-based accounts in order to make more money on the buy and sell side with your clients. Your return on assets is higher than some of the most powerful drug lords in Columbia. No wonder you don’t need my cash flow any longer. I wonder where you’re harboring all that money. You don’t live like you’re on top of the world, so I’m sure it’s buried somewhere. When one partakes in illegal doings, it’s safe to assume they need to appear… frugal in their spending.”
“Fuck you,” Dillon hissed. “I only make money for my clients.”
“Right,” Gavin drawled. “Will that be your defense when the Security Exchange Commission starts ripping into your files? The investigation’s a phone call away.” Gavin slid into the booth right next to Dillon. If it was possible, Dillon leaned farther against the wainscoting. Gavin chuckled at Dillon’s attempt to all but camouflage himself alongside a signed photo of Magic Johnson. “Emily,” Gavin said calmly, staring into Dillon’s eyes. “Go ask the hostess for a piece of paper and pen for me, sweets.”
“Okay,” Emily answered, turning to do as he said.