The rest of dinner is so strained and silent. So silent that one could hear a pin drop. As Selene was removing our dinner dishes and Elena was serving dessert, I leaned over to whisper to Roman. "Can we talk somewhere a little private?"
He looks at me with an expression that asks if I'm serious. Once he's sure that I am, he nods. Roman excuses us, earning relieved expressions from everyone. We walk towards the back of the home, hearing our footsteps echo since neither of us can find the words to spark a conversation. He opens the glass doors to lead us to the backyard. Backyards at home are more like pools, barbecues, and hammocks. The Berkshires have a different definition of backyards. Between the garden maze, twinkling lights, stone statues, a gazebo, fountains, and variety of flowers, this is less like a backyard and more like Botanical gardens.
"Come on." He starts towards the maze, but my feet are rooted to the ground. My face must say everything that my mouth won't because he releases a heavy sigh. "I'm not going to hurt you. You asked for privacy and I'm trying to give it to you. I want to explain everything to you. Things that my mother can't. Preferably without curious eyes watching our every move." Nodding his head toward the direction of the house, I look over my shoulder to find Selene watching us. Reluctantly, I follow him into the maze.
Surrounded by hedges, a certain kind of fear fills me. A kind of fear that I've never felt around Roman before. A kind of fear that I never wanted to feel around him. The feeling brings overwhelming devastation. Once upon a time, I actually imagined that Roman and I could be together. Maybe not forever. Maybe not marriage. An epic kind of love that the poets write sonnets about. However, Roman Berkshire is anything but the kind of man that is written in poetry. I'm starting to wonder if I held him at an unrealistic standard.
"I know my mother explained the family business in the best way she knew how, but I'm sure you're curious about the parts we all play." My silence is enough to urge him to continue. "My mother tries not to get very involved, if i'm being completely honest. She's not completely naive though. Her own father was a criminal, but not a very good one. My father offered her a life that no other man could. She knew what he did and accepted it as it was. Maybe she thought she could change him for the better, but if you knew my father, that would never happen. Not in a million years. My father is a man who is addicted to riches in all its forms. He finds wealth in his family, or he used to. Wealth in drugs. Wealth in weapons. Wealth in art. Wealth is trickery. Wealth in the form of money. I don't think he could ever live an ordinary life. It would be like a prison sentence." We turn a corner. Our path is illuminated by the twinkling lights upon the hedges. "Like his father, and his father before him, a long line of men who will never be content. They will always crave, even when nothing is left. This is why Harris and my family will never get along. We both want territory and neither will give in. If Harris knows what's good for him, he'll take a step back because my father will never surrender."
The desire to shut him out is strong, but his story is drawing me in. Since meeting him, my questions are finally being answered. No excuses. No beating around the bush. Only straight answers.
"Growing up, we were all forced to join the family business. We had no choice. Elijah was the muscle behind the family business. He was also the one who jumped at the opportunity to join once he was sixteen. It was undeniable he was born to be part of the business. Isabella, maybe not as excited, still welcomed the lifestyle with open arms. Behind Elijah's bronze, she shined through with her brains. Before every heist, she knew the ins and outs of every place. She did extensive research on every location. There were times she stepped in for our father and instructed our men on how to do their job. It wasn't until recently that our father found her less useful for instruction and more useful as a bargaining tool." At this point, Roman sounds almost angry. The idea of being used as a bargaining tool makes my own blood boil. Isabella's bad attitude makes so much more sense now. "My father wants to marry her off to tie our family with the Beaumonts. This will lead to a strong alliance that will cease others from attacking."
We stop briefly at a stone fountain. Neither of us say anything. Instead, we take a moment to ourselves, watching the water spill from the baby angel's mouth into the fountain beneath. The sound of water holds a feeling of calm within it.
"Scarlette has filled the spot that Isabella used to have. That's why they have a more strained relationship. Izzy feels like Scar took everything from her. Pushed her out. While Scarlette felt forced to. It's not like she had much of a choice. With the whole situation between her, my father, and my mother, she felt like it was something she had to do to be accepted by him. One thing my father is good at is turning us against each other. Each of us craves his attention and devotes ourselves completely to him. If we don't trust each other, we'll trust him one hundred percent."
"I thought that Elijah was the brains." I say, recalling the lunch we shared when he said as much. I look at him to find him looking at me. How long has he been looking at me with that intense gaze? Suddenly, it feels like a ball has formed in my throat and I can't form any more words.
He laughs a bit. "At the time, it made more sense for that to be the reason why my father kept him at his side, rather than using him as a chess piece in his game. But it was never that easy of an explanation." He starts back to the maze with me following closely behind. "My brother and I are very different. Always have been. While he was more than willing to join the family business, I was more hesitant. My mother tried to shield me as long as possible. I much preferred the sanctuary books offered. Insects were also a great comfort. Especially butterflies. It might sound silly, but they brought me an idea of freedom and growth. To be one thing and turn into another, flying away when things were no longer suitable. Also, far too sentimental as a child. I can't tell you how many times I had a funeral for dead insects as small and insignificant as an ant. As you might expect, these were not traits nor behaviors that my father found acceptable. They were, as he put it, 'embarrassing', 'disgraceful', 'girlish behavior'. There was only so long my mother could protect me from him. Eventually, I gave in to save my mother the argument. Thankfully, I had seventeen years of my life beforehand. One more than my brother." The description he just gave of a younger Roman is someone I can't imagine. A small part of me believes he has to be lying. How can this hard, dangerous man be a gentle kid, who curled up with books and adored butterflies? I can't wrap my head around it. "My part is being the bronze, the good cop to the bad cop, but also the face of the Berkshire family. People know me as the billionaire bachelor with a tragic past. An intimidating man who owns a publishing company. Who would suspect me in being part of anything illegal?"
After walking for what feels like hours, we stop once the white gazebo comes into view. "Why was your painting in that museum?" The question might have seemed dumb, but it was one of the biggest things that bothered me for the longest time. No matter how many times I thought I came up with the answer, it never sounded right.
"To get under the museum's good graces, I held a fundraiser for it. By doing so, they would never suspect the Berkshire family stealing from them. They would also be so grateful that they would give me far more special access to the building. The fundraiser brought in a lot of money for the museum. Money that it desperately needed. They found it appropriate to thank me by allowing one of my paintings in their museum."
"Oh." Well, that definitely isn't one of the answers that I came up with. Not in a million years would I have thought that could have been an option.
"Yeah, I know." He chuckles lightly, rubbing at the back of his neck. "It's not all that exciting. I wish I could say they considered me a Van Gogh, but that's not the case."
No matter how hard I try, I can't help the little laugh that escapes. "I find that hard to believe."
For a moment, we fall into a comfortable silence. Our smiles fill the gaps of where our words once hung between us. We start back to the gazebo, stopping right in front of it. With the twinkling lights, the bench, and white gazebo, I feel like I'm standing on a movie set. How could something so beautiful be among so much chaos?
"And your party?" I keep my body facing the gazebo. There's still too many unanswered questions to just give myself into his charm.
"Harris." He answers with a clipped tone. No explanation.
There's no way he's getting off the hook that easily. If we're planning to move forward, I need answers. "Why? No one does something like that without reason, unless they're insane."
"Who says he isn't insane?" Our heads turn at the same time, sharing a challenging glare.
"Answer the question." My voice is even. Almost completely foreign to me. Maybe it was my time with James. Maybe it was my time with Roman. But I'm not the same woman that first came to Seattle. I'm not as afraid. I'm not as easy to manipulate. And I'm not about to let Roman Berkshire run all over me.
"You seem very defensive of him." If I didn't know better, he actually sounds a little jealous. He shakes his head, taking the loss, he breaks eye contact to look at the gazebo. "He wanted to get back at me for turning down his proposal for more territory. For some ridiculous reason, he believes that he's owed more territory to do his own trafficking. Even has the balls to claim that we're the greedy ones." Shaking his head, I notice that's brushing the knuckles of his hand with the thumb of his other. "Let's just say that it's caused unnecessary trouble for my family."
That explanation alone answers so many questions I've had in the last few moments. The interaction at that club when I first met James. His interruption when Roman and I were sharing lunch. Always showing up at the most unfortunate times. Every single time attempting to get under Roman's skin.
"What did he think he was going to get out of me?" The entire kidnapping is still a mystery to me. Anyone with eyes can see that I'm not part of this world. What would James get out of taking me against my will?
For a second, Roman looks like he's going to answer, but instead, he shakes his head. "Don't you have any other pressing questions?" As expected, Roman does what he does best, he dodged my question.
Sighing, knowing that I'm not getting any further with this particular subject, I think of the next, possibly most, important question. Unable to meet his gaze with such a heavy question, my eyes lead me to the gazebo until I'm under the tiny roof. My hands hold the banister, eyes looking towards another open path ahead of me. Tiny pink and yellow flowers sprouting from the hedges.
"What happened to your wife and son?" Suddenly, a heavy weight falls over the maze. This is the question that has haunted me since the very first night I found that photo in the pocket of his blazer. Even more so when I found out they were dead and James accused Roman of having a hand in their deaths. This is the question that I know will make or break us. Whatever 'us' is. It's so quiet that I can hear the leaves rustling in the light wind. For a moment, I wonder if he heard me at all. Just as I'm about to turn around and ask again when his words cut through the breeze like a knife.
"I have to show you."
First off, did this come off as an info dump? I need honest opinions!
What do you think about the information that was shared with Sawyer? Were you surprised by anything?
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