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The man blinked, clearly taken aback. ‘I never hated you, Roman, even when I just thought you were a business rival. The truth is, I admired you, your bravery and tenacity, even if I did not agree with your methods most of the time, or some of the stories you chose to print.’
He heard the edge he’d noticed before. But it was blunter now, and held no bitterness.
‘Just to clarify something,’ Cade continued, the edge softening even more. ‘Was that why you were so focussed on outing me as a deadbeat dad? Because you believed I had chosen not to acknowledge Ruby, you thought I was just like him?’
Roman shrugged, but the movement felt stiff and surly as he ran his thumb down the frosted glass, not quite able to look the man in the eyes. ‘Yes,’ he forced himself to admit, even though it felt too revealing.
‘I see. Well, just so you know, I had no idea I had a daughter until Ruby was four years old. Which, to be fair, was mostly my own fault, so I don’t blame you for coming to that conclusion. But I should also make you aware, I would rather cut off my left nut than be anything like the bastard who fathered us both.’
Roman swung his head around to stare at Cade, but the fierce frown made it clear the man meant what he said.
‘You didn’t like your father?’ he asked, stunned by the revelation. And the disjointed way it made him feel. As if his whole life had just been broken apart like a jigsaw puzzle and fitted back together to create an entirely different image.
‘Ourfather, you mean,’ Cade corrected him, gently. ‘But to answer your question... No. I didn’t like him. For most of my childhood and adolescence, I was terrified of him. My mother died when I was a baby. She killed herself, probably to get away from him,’ he added with a wry sadness that stunned Roman even more. ‘After that, I was brought up by a string of governesses who he would fire if I got too attached to them. When I was five, he decided to ship me off to a succession of increasingly austere and disciplinary boarding schools to show me how to be a man. The only times I ever saw him was when he wanted to punish me, usually with random acts of cruelty, which...’ he paused, his expression becoming rueful as he sighed ‘...after over a year of therapy at my wife’s insistence, I have finally come to realise he took great pleasure in administering because he was a sadist. But were never,evermy fault.’
Roman straightened, horrified but also strangely moved by Brandon Cade’s forthright and unsentimental recollections. His father—theirfather—had been a monster. Why had he never considered that Alfred Cade’s crimes might have extended far beyond the man’s callous treatment of his mother and himself?
‘Sounds like I dodged a bullet never having to meet him,’ he muttered.
‘You have no idea,’ Brandon murmured vehemently. ‘Our father was a sociopath and a narcissist, who was never capable of loving anyone but himself. So it doesn’t surprise me he didn’t acknowledge you as his son. But you have to believe me when I tell you, I had no idea we were related that day in Cade Tower.’
Roman nodded. Surprised to realise he believed him. And it made a difference. Abigdifference, to how he remembered that day. Why wouldn’t Brandon Cade have had him kicked out of his offices, when all he’d seen was a mouthy little upstart with no prospects? After all, that was exactly what he had been. He might well have kicked himself out, under the same circumstances.
But then Brandon surprised him even more when he added, ‘Unfortunately, though, the personnel manager with me when you confronted me did know who you were.’ He took a deep breath, let it out again, his expression pained. ‘I’d inherited John Walters from my father. He seemed competent. But what I didn’t know was part of his job during my father’s tenure was also to manage his “indiscretions”. I asked Walters to find room for you on our apprenticeship programme that day, because it was clear to me you had potential as a journalist. You were smart and articulate and tenacious, and I was impressed with your gall. But when you said your name, Walters recognised you as my father’s illegitimate child. And had you kicked out of the building. I should have checked up on you, though, made sure Walters had followed through on my request, and I didn’t. So you’re going to have to accept my apology for that, too.’
‘Okay,’ Roman said carefully, stunned again by Brandon Cade’s honesty and integrity. And his willingness to take the blame for crimes that had never been his.
‘Good.’ Brandon stood, then glanced towards the door. ‘How about we call Marisa and her assistant back in and I can give you the documents we’ve been working on relating to your inheritance? Nothing has to be decided today, obviously, but I—’
‘No.’ Roman interrupted him. ‘Thanks,’ he added, when Brandon’s expression became mulish. ‘I don’t need any part of your inheritance,’ he continued. ‘It sounds like you earned theCade legacy the hard way by having to deal with that bastard. So I’d say we’re even on that score.’
‘That’s not why I told you about our father,’ Brandon said, the edge right back again.
‘I know, but it’s the truth, though, isn’t it?’ Roman sighed and stood up, so he could stand toe to toe with his brother.
Weird, but, even though he’d always known their blood connection, he’d never really thought of them as being related until this moment. But when Brandon glared at him—the stubborn glint in his eye making it clear this was not the end of the inheritance discussion—Roman recognised the expression, because he’d seen it in the mirror often enough.
He didn’t know if they could ever be brothers. There was a lot more baggage to unpack before that could happen. But right now, it didn’t really matter to him. Because the only thing that actually mattered was what he had learned this afternoon.
His father had been a pig and now he was really glad the man had never wanted him.
Brandon Cade was a better man than Roman had ever given him credit for.
And, most importantly of all, he’d thrown something away that he shouldn’t have thrown away, over something that had never really mattered in the first place!
He’d spent the first thirty-two years of his life believing the wrong thing about himself, about his past, about every damn thing really. And because of that, he’d been beyond terrified when Milly had looked at him with love and understanding in her eyes, and told him she trusted him, because a part of him was still that boy—scared of needing more, in case he didn’t get it.
Well, to hell with that.
He’d been utterly miserable in the past week, because he’d believed he was doing the right thing by pushing her away. Butlife was too short to make that kind of stupid, self-defeating sacrifice.
If Brandon Cade could come to him, swallow his pride and try to make amends for something he hadn’t even done, then Roman Garner—aka that mouthy little upstart Dante Rocco—could fly to Genoa and tell Milly Devlin he had made a terrible mistake. And beg her to give him another chance.
After the way he’d treated her, she might not want him back, she might well decide she never wanted to see him again. And he wouldn’t blame her. But one thing he was not prepared to do was not give it his best shot. And if that meant kidnapping her and seducing her into a puddle of need until she agreed to give him that chance... So be it.
But for any of that to happen, he needed to find out where she was living first.
‘There is one favour I want, Brandon,’ he said, laying on the reckless charm he’d once taken for granted. ‘And then we’ll be all square.’
