“Then why say anything at all?” Stark’s voice was as tight as a wire.
Jackson glanced toward Sylvia, then quickly looked away. “Because it’s time.”
“I see.” A moment passed. Then another. And though Jackson tried to discern what his brother was thinking, he didn’t have a clue.
“Damien?” Nikki’s soft voice seemed to fill the room.
Stark didn’t turn to her. He kept his eyes on Jackson. And as Jackson watched, the tight, expressionless face turned human again. Stark smiled—not a genuine smile, but the kind of expression he might wear during a boardroom presentation. An expression of complete and total control—and that revealed absolutely no personal reaction whatsoever.
“I appreciate you telling me,” he said. “Now if you don’t mind, you should go. As I mentioned, it’s been a long day for Nikki and me.”
Jackson took a single step forward. “Damien—”
“No,” Stark said, and this time the word was harsh, that slight hint of emotion revealing to Jackson just how much his bombshell truly had impacted the man. “And it really is time for you to leave.”
three
I force myself to remain seated as Jackson turns and leaves. I catch his eyes once more, but like Damien, his expression is impenetrable.
Even so, I’m sure there’s pain behind both men’s masks, and I wish that it was in my power to make this whole situation better for Jackson, whose love I cherish, and for Damien, whose respect I crave.
In the silence, I hear the elevator doors snick closed, even from all the way across the apartment.
As if the sound is a cue, Damien turns to me. “Did you know?”
There is absolutely no inflection to his words, and despite the years I’ve worked for him—despite the power I’ve seen him wield and the flares of temper I have witnessed—this is the first time that I have been truly nervous around my boss.
“He told me on Saturday.” What I don’t say is that it is because of me that Jackson came here tonight. Once he’d told me his secret, he knew he had to tell Damien, because otherwise he’d have to burden me with the secret, too. And this isn’t the kind of thing that I would feel comfortable keeping from Damien.
Damien says nothing, and even though I know that his silence is a time-honored technique to keep people talking, I fall headlong into the trap. “I saw him with your father at Michael Prado’s charity event on Friday,” I say, the words spilling out. “And I got pissed because he’d told me that he didn’t know Jeremiah. We had a huge fight, and—” I cut myself off with a shrug. “At any rate, he told me.”
Damien and Nikki both know that Jackson and I are a couple, but that isn’t something I want to focus on at the moment. As far as I’m concerned, right now, this is all about me being as professional as possible. I glance toward Nikki. We’ve become good friends, and I can see the worry on her face. But she says nothing, and I’m grateful. At some point, this whole debacle may lead to many drinks with my friends. Right now, though, I just need to hold it together.
“You’re not in trouble, Sylvia,” Damien says, and the iron band that has tightened around my chest loosens just a bit. “If a week or two had gone by without me learning the truth, then we would have talked. But as far as your job is concerned, you weren’t obligated to tell me about this until after Jackson had the opportunity to do so. Which he’s definitely now accomplished,” Damien adds, and there’s just enough humor in his voice to make me think that maybe—just maybe—we have weathered the storm.
“Thanks,” I say. “I appreciate that you understand how awkward the situation was.” I hold up the notebook, hoping I don’t look too desperate to get off this seriously uncomfortable topic. “Do you want to finish now?”
He waves a hand. “There’s nothing on the agenda that can’t wait.”