Page 150 of Full Throttle

“But you turned it down.”

Vance looked away. “You have to understand that these things weren’t done back then. Reputation is so—so fragile. It takes years to build it up, and only a second to destroy it. I’ve seen it happen. Trust me.”

Ah, Dominic thought. So maybe it was Vance’s fault, in a way. Maybe his father was complicit in the same way as every person who stood by and said nothing as a woman was publicly shamed was complicit. But Vance would have never admitted it. His pride wouldn’t allow it. Dominic looked down at the sea of cardboard, and a terrible sadness filled him, but he’d be lying if he said that there wasn’t anger too.

“So that’s why you wanted me to break things off with Juliette?”

Vance picked a bit of lint off his sleeve. “I thought it was a silly infatuation. A fling that would damage your career. And then later, when I realized what she meant to you…I was so worried that your feelings would jeopardize your safety on track.” Finally, his father met his gaze. “But I was wrong. Forgive me.”

Dominic’s chest tightened. “You took everything from me.”

“I know.”

“I’ve spent my whole life trying to make you proud. And you threw that back in my face.”

Vance’s eyes were fierce. “I am proud of you, waldi. So damn proud.”

“But I didn’t win.”

The words came out smaller than Dominic had intended. More tentative. Like a child tugging at their parent’s coat.

Vance’s smile was sad. “Oh, winning is easy. It’s losing that’s hard.”

Silence fell, broken only by the ticking of the clock. Half past five, Dominic noted; he needed to get a move on if he wanted to be at the party by seven. And he sure as hell wasn’t showing up late. Not when it would be the first time that he’d seen Juliette in weeks.

Dominic lifted a box. “I should go.”

Vance stepped forward. “Come for dinner next week. I’ll ask the housekeeper to make your mother’s favorite. Bouillabaisse with fresh bread.” He paused. “Perhaps with a guest.”

Dominic hesitated. “I don’t think…” He shifted the box. “I’m not there yet. But I want to be someday.”

He was surprised to find that it was true. Vance nodded, as if he’d anticipated this.

“Let me know when you are.”

Dominic was about to push out the front door when a thought occurred to him. A final mystery left unsolved. “Dad?” His gaze dropped to Vance’s left hand. “Why do you wear that wedding ring?”

His father blinked. “Why do you ask?”

“I wondered…”

If it was a PR stunt. If Duro Stallion wanted you to seem like a family man, especially now that I’m not on your team. Vance must have read the answer because hurt flickered across his face.

“I wear this ring,” Vance said softly, “because I loved your mother terribly. Colette was the love of my life. And when she died…” There was pain in the lines around his mouth. “It’s a funny thing, grief. You don’t realize how much someone has of you until they’re taken away.”

A lump rose in Dominic’s throat. “I miss her.”

“I know.” Vance paused. “Do you know what I loved best about your mother?”

Dominic shook his head. He didn’t trust himself to speak.

“She was a wonderful photographer,” Vance said. “Not because she had the ability to spot beauty, but because she could coax it out of anyone. Strangers, animals, the occasional grumpy old man…” His smile was wry. “Even me.”

Dominic’s eyes burned, and he had the sudden horrifying realization that if he stayed much longer, he was going to cry. And he wasn’t ready to do that in front of Vance.

“I really should go,” Dominic said gruffly. “I’ll be late.”

“You’re going to the New Year’s Eve party?”