A Beautiful Forgiveness: NYC Series, #3

Chapter 1 – Lucas

Lucas. The sweetest voice I’ve ever heard, and could never have, was standing in front of me with tears in her eyes. I saw her every day. I heard her voice every day. And every day I missed her more. I thought after she rejected me, I would eventually get desensitized to her beauty, to the love I had for her in my heart. I haven’t; her beauty still takes my breath away, she still stars in my dreams. I’m so sorry about your mom. She engulfed me in a hug—her sling gone—and Prescot nodded to me out of respect as she hugged me.

Thank you for coming, Ki.

With my words whispered softly in her ear, she pulled away, and Prescot was there to comfort her. Prescot. I should hate him; hell, I want to hate him, but I can’t. He’s the best damn man for Ki—I know it, he knows it.

I heard you were in the car with her. Are you doing okay?

Banged up, but fine.

Our cars were going sixty miles per hour at the time of impact. I’m surprised my mom was the only fatality. I heard the driver of the other car lived, and the police were still investigating it. It sounded like it was just an accident, and those things happen every day.

Lex was next to hug me, telling me the same thing Ki did, and I saw Tapper was here also.

I really do appreciate you all being here.

This was the awkward part; what to say to each other now that everyone said what they needed to say.

Thankfully, Ki had to talk to her father and her and Prescot walked off. I watched them hold hands as they made their way across the living room; Lex and Tapper followed them.

I looked at the mantel above the fireplace in our family’s living room and saw the urn sitting on it, next to a beautiful bouquet of sunflowers, my mother’s favorites. The reading room had the rest of the flowers that had been coming in since word got out about her passing. Our housekeeper, Carrie, had her work cut out for her. I knew she’d place them around the house, in the best spots possible, where they would shine like Mom did.

Son.

My father was at my side, also looking at the fireplace. He had been out of town for the past month and now regrets his travels. Shortly after I had made contact with Ki, I contacted my mother so she wouldn’t worry or hire another investigator to find me. I’d been seeing her once a week since then, sometimes twice. I had to be careful, just in case I was being followed, so I always had her meet me in public for lunch or dinner, and she never suspected a thing.

My father and mother both came from money, which meant I had money, which was the root of all the troubles in my past.

Our house was currently full of wealthy people, all pretending to care about my mother when really, she didn’t have that many friends. They were more like acquaintances in my opinion. They were always asking her for money, wanting donations to their charities and most of the time, my mother donated. She was very thoughtful and always wanted to give back, and help others. These people were parasites. Preying on my mom while she lived, making sure to make an appearance in her death. I’m not as giving as my mom was. I want more than anything to go up to them and ask them about my mother, make them admit that they didn’t know her. That her passing won’t impact them like it will for me.

Are you okay, Son?

Yes.

Do you need to go to a meeting?

I felt my insides clench. Of course he would immediately think I needed a meeting. No.

What about calling your sponsor?

Dad, I warned, not wanting to get into it right now, I’ve been sober for two years and my sponsor moved a few months ago.

You and your mother were very close, Lucas, I’d hate for you to relapse. She’d be devastated.

Don’t, Dad. I miss her, and there won’t be a day that goes by that I won’t think of her . . . but I’m not going to fuck up, Dad. I have a good thing going now, and I won’t mess it up.

I’m here if you need me. He patted me on the arm and then walked off to talk to his brother, my uncle Tom.

Right, Dad. We’ll just pal around like we used to. Oh wait, we never did that. You were always too busy for me, for Mom. And now that she’s gone, you want to be close?

Slipping out of the room, I went upstairs to my room and shut the door. My room hasn’t changed, and just a year ago, I was still living here, but my mom refused to make any changes—it was as if I never left. She knew my recovery was going well, but she still worried, like all good mothers did. She made sure Carrie kept my room clean and the sheets fresh just in case I wanted to come home.

When I first started working for Donovan, following Ki around, I knew I had to get my own place. I found a small shack of an apartment within three blocks from Ki’s and paid for a year upfront. I rented it under a pseudonym, I didn’t want anything traceable back to my family. I barely furnished it. I had to play the part, live the part. A dirty mattress found on the street on garbage day—though I Lysol’d the hell out of it. I didn’t have a table, there was no need as no one ever came to my apartment. I did keep my apartment stocked with food though, because hell, I could eat as well as I could cook. Another thing Mom taught me, ‘Keep your belly full and things will always look better in the morning.’

There was a soft knock on my door, making me sit up to greet whoever had followed me up here.

Hey, Lucas, Tallia said, shutting the door. It’s been awhile.

Yes, it’s been awhile and I never thought I’d see her again, especially today. Tallia and I grew up together, went to the same boarding schools, and got high together for years.

What are you doing up here?

I was in recovery.

She wasn’t.

Standing from the bed I said, I’m taking a break.

I can help with that.

I haven’t seen you in years, Tallia. I’m good.

She wiggled her purse and leaned into me. "I’ve got lots of ways to help you, Lucas."

I’m sober now.

That’s no fun. She ran her finger down my cheek. Don’t you remember the good old days?

I remember them. How can I forget them? They were such a huge part of my life. Fuckin’ in a hazy stupor, blowing all my money up my nose.

Then let’s have a little fun.

"I remember them to remind me of my journey. To remind me that I’m a better person now. To remind me never to go back."

She smiled and ran her hand down my stomach, ignoring everything I said. Her pupils were dilated and her nose was a tad red. Do you remember the last time we were together?

"Tallia, that life is over. Anything to do with us is over. I stepped around her and opened the door. Please leave."

You’re no fun. She pouted.

No, I’m afraid I’m not.

She grabbed my cock on the way out and licked my cheek. You know how to find me.

I shut the door after her and sat back down on my bed, and groaned at the dull pain in my ribs.

I laid on my bed and cried for the first time since I got sober.

I cried for my mom.

For Ki.

For all the fucked-up things I did in my life.

For being alone.

I cried to wash the pain out.

To cleanse myself of it.

To keep myself from relapsing.

My mother died, and all I had was a few bruised ribs.

It wasn’t fair.

Loving someone who didn’t love you back.

It wasn’t fair.

Life just wasn’t fair.

Chapter 2 – Lucas

It’s only been three weeks, are you sure you’re ready to come back to work?

I looked up at Donovan, who was sitting on his black leather couch. I discreetly glanced around Donovan’s penthouse. He didn’t like people eyeing his stuff, said it made him feel like you were ‘casing the joint.’ I don’t blame him though. Donovan’s seen some shit, for sure. He also wasn’t stingy when it came to decorating and furnishing his place, not like me.

The main room of his penthouse had two sitting areas, one with black leather couches, a huge, wall-sized television, just about every technological gadget you could want, and sleek glass tables. The other area, offset with brick inlay, had a dark red crushed-velvet sectional, wooden tables, and showcased his spectacular view of the city. We rarely sat there, and he didn’t permit us to go anywhere else in his home.

I had enough time off.

Did you relapse?

No.

Donovan didn’t beat around the bush. When he first gave me the job, he knew I was in recovery and made me piss in a cup several times a week. I didn’t mind, I was protecting his daughter after all. He was the first and only person to give me a chance. I had six months of training with a friend of mine who was in the Marines, out in Colorado, who had his own security firm.

He taught me well.

He took a sip of his scotch and then said, I trust you.

You should.

But don’t think for a moment that I won’t test you.

I’m good.

Can you still handle my daughter or is the new team ready?

I was sick of people asking me about Ki. Yes, I loved her. I wanted to be with her, but she wasn’t my life.

She wouldn’t be my life.

As I’ve said before, I love your daughter, I’d do anything for her, but I’ve moved on.

You’re single?

I respected the man who gave me a chance, and I liked my job and my resources so I kept my cool. I’m not in a place right now to be dating.

He pressed on. He was either testing me or making sure I was ready to come back to work. Maybe the new team should take over?

You’re the boss.

A lot has happened while you were gone.

I scooted to the edge of the matching love seat and waited for him to continue. My team was informed not to contact me while I grieved my mother and helped my father take care of her affairs, so I was out of the loop.

Prescot asked me two days ago for permission to marry her.

I gripped my hands and looked to the floor.

It was official now.

I’d never have her.

I said I was fine.

You don’t look fine.

I glared at him. If you want my piss then tell me, otherwise, I’m going back to work.

He smiled.

The fucker.

I think the excitement surrounding myself has died down, so let’s have the new team take over Ki’s watch. I have something else I’d like you to work on.

I wish he would have said it to begin with. Not being on her detail would be different but it really was the best for me, and her.

He snapped his fingers and one of the bodyguards brought over a file and handed it to me.

I took the liberty of finding out who received your mother’s organs.

I held the file in my hands. That is confidential information, plus I didn’t ask for it.

I know, like I said, I took the liberty of finding out for you. All recipients are alive because of your mother. A few of them are still in the hospital as a precaution, but the others are home. Healing. Living.

I hadn’t thought of that at all.

She saved seven people’s lives.

My mother was always a giving person.

I could tell from all the wonderful things people said about her at her funeral.

Thank you for this. I sat the file on the glass coffee table and changed the subject because it was time I got back to work.

Donovan went into detail about becoming a silent partner for a new condo development on the east side of town. It wasn’t something he normally did, and he wouldn’t have to do much, just fund part of the project. The other man, Richard Williams, would take care of everything else, start to finish, including the process of selling the condos. I had to vet the man before Donovan could go through with anything. We talked about the new team, the takeover, and how smoothly everything had to go. Donovan mentioned that he needed to keep himself busy with legit projects to keep the urge to go back to his old life away. He wanted to live the rest of his days on the straight and narrow, but the rush of his past haunted him, tempted him.

I want to tell Ki and Alexa. I’ll introduce them to the new team.

I think that’s best.

What about Avon?

What about him?

Is he still alive?

He finished his scotch. Technically.

I grabbed the file and headed toward the door.

Lucas, he called out, and I glanced back at him.

Yeah?

Look through the file when you can.

It wouldn’t be anytime soon. I’ll get to it.

The woman who received your mother’s heart . . . I put her information on top.

###

Even though I was in recovery, I still drank. Not much, just a drink a month, sometimes two but it wasn’t my addiction. I like the stuff you could smoke, or snort up your nose. I never did use needles, but I tried a lot of other shit.

I dropped my empty bottle into the trash and went to my rocking chair that was hideous, just like the one Ki and Alexa had. I had money, lots of it now that my mother had passed, but I didn’t like to spend it. I was different now, didn’t care about the finer things in life or the parties.

Money was evil.

I opened the file and the woman’s picture was the first thing I saw. I picked it up and held it in my hands. She had straight, light brown hair, shorter on one side, longer on the other, with a few curls in it. Her eyes were soft, light blue, and her smile was full of happiness.

London Langly.

Twenty-one years old. Almost twenty-two.

Born and raised in Wyoming.

She moved to New York City almost a year ago; actually, it was on her twenty-first birthday.

She received a two-year degree in business but since moving to New York, she’d been employed as a waitress, dog-walker, secretary, and one day a week, she worked overnights at a private nursing home facility.

Either she needed the money or got bored very easily.

She also rescued animals and tried to find them homes before they were put to sleep, for good.

Mom would have liked her. She worked with animals and the elderly. She had a good heart before she got my mom’s. That thought was somehow comforting, and with a final glance, I closed the file and got ready for bed.

Tomorrow was going to be a long day.

Chapter 3 – Lucas

Hell no! Alexa said, jumping out of her chair. I was glad to see she was doing much better, both her and Ki were. No offense, she pointed at