Paper Marriage Proposition

Three

    Revenge on a blonde, blue-eyed, tempting little platter. Frederic couldn’t quite push her image aside. Elegant in her blue suit, dignified with her chin jutting out defiantly. Lalisa Manoban.
    With circles under her eyes.
    He doubted she slept any more than he did. He cursed under his breath, telling himself he did not care whether she, too, fought demons at night.
    He should have been inclined to doubt her claims. A man became suspicious after the wind was knocked out of him… I’m leaving you for another man…
    But the story had flooded the papers. Lalisa Jeon, now Manoban, had endured a dirty divorce and an even uglier custody battle.
    Which Frederic shouldn’t give a damn about.
    On his fifth glass of red and after the ordeal at the microphone, he downed the liquid slowly, forcing himself to enjoy the taste as he rested his elbows on the stone balustrade and contemplated the hotel gardens. The night had grown quiet, so that through the sound of water lapping against the edge of the hotel pool, through the sound of lonely crickets in the distance and the faded sounds of traffic even farther away in the city, he could hear his own thoughts.
    Jeon Jungkook’s woman.
    Kissing Frederic's lips like her life depended on it. Kissing him not subtly, but hard and fast and desperately.
    It irked him immeasurably, her desperation, and he wasn’t certain why. Perhaps because he knew desperation. What shallow company it was, what a lousy counselor it became.
    Perhaps because despite his resistance, he’d responded to her. Why her? She was not even the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen, and certainly not that sexy with that man-eating fury in her gaze. But when he’d felt her coaxing lips against his, he’d experienced the strangest, most exhilarating ecstasy. With her, trapped between him and the wall, the urge to rip off that tasteful jacket and fill his hands with her, fill her mouth with his tongue, had been more than he could bear.
    He should’ve tasted her. He hadn’t felt this bothered, this turned-on, in years. He should’ve tasted that mobile, hungry little mouth—was it sweet? Hot?
    He tensed when behind him, long sure footsteps approached, followed by his brother’s voice. Alex. The youngest, Julian John, had to be around somewhere, too. Maybe necking with a waitress.
    “I’m surprised you’ve stuck around this long,” Alex said, propping his elbows on the weathered stone.
    Frederic shrugged, not annoyed so much by the crowds when he was able to escape them. “I’m waiting for her to leave.”
    His brother chuckled, a sound much like Frederic’s had been before he’d forgotten how to do it. “I admit I’m very intrigued about the contents of that little black book.”
    Frederic remained silent. He was intrigued, too. But he was the eldest, the cool head. His mother, his brothers, depended on him to make decisions with level-headed precision, not stemming from rage.
    A breeze rustled across the nearby bushes.
    “I don’t remember seeing such hate in someone’s eyes before,” Alex said. After a charged pause, “Except maybe yours.”
    An old, familiar rage crawled inside Frederic’s stomach. He plucked a leaf from a prickly little bush, tore it in half, and tossed it aside. “If you have a point,” he said flatly, “then make it.”
    “You know, Frederic, I’ve been waiting for you to do something about what happened all those years ago. Mother’s been waiting. Julian has been, too. You never mourned. You never got drunk. You went to work the next day, hell, you worked like a dog. You’re still working like a dog.”
    “And this is the attitude you all wanted me to take? I pulled Dad’s newspaper up from the ground, Alex. I branched out online and tripled its earnings—you wanted me to get drunk? ”
    “No,” he admitted, contrite. “I wanted you to do something that will balance things out. I think it’s long past the time you took a hand to this. You know goddamned well you can crush him.”
    “Jeon?”
    A glint of mischief sparked in alex’s eyes. “Don’t tell me you haven’t thought about it.”
    “Every night.”
    “There you go.” With a satisfied grunt, Alex emptied his wineglass and set it aside. “Frederic, come on. You’re the loneliest bastard I know. We’ve stood by for six years watching you close yourself off. You’re not even interested in women anymore. The anger is reeking off your pores, its eating you inside.”
    Frederic rubbed two fingers up the length of his nose, his temples beginning to throb. “Back off, Alex.”
    “Why not take your revenge, brother?”
    He didn’t know what happened. One moment he clutched his wine and the next the glass shattered on the nearest stone pillar, the shards scattering across the floor. “Because it will not bring them back!” he roared. “I can goddamned kill him and they’re still. Not. Coming. Back!”
    The silence that followed felt like a noose around his throat. He’d said too much, had lost control, showed his brother just how very close he was to losing it, how perilous he found each day to be. How pointless it all seemed. Power, respect, even life itself. It was all one big nothing. Frederic felt nothing but…hollow.
    “Damn it,” he muttered, cursing himself and that female for bringing thoughts of Jeon Jungkook to the forefront.
    Frederic hated thinking about it, hated remembering, the phone call late at night, all the evidence the detective had discovered. But at the same time, it haunted him. How could he have been so blind? So fooled? Chrystine had been having an affair with Jungkook for several months; the detective confirmed she’d been texting and emailing and stealing out into the night to see him. Frederic hadn’t known of her betrayal until the day he’d buried her.
    He’d felt cornered into the marriage, hadn’t wanted her, but she’d been pregnant with his child and he’d done the “right” thing with every intention of making it work.
    He’d failed. And he’d failed to protect that chubby little infant, who’d already learned to sit, and grin and say “Papa.”
    His son had died because of her.
    And Because of Jungkook emailing in the middle of the night, demanding of Frederic's wife that it was now or never. She either went to him now or they would never be together.
    Chrystine had been taking medication, medication Jungkook had prescribed, medication no nursing mother should have been taking and no sane person should be driving on. Jungkook had known, and he’d still made the demands. Demands he knew Chrystine would follow when he’d threatened not to “prescribe” for her any longer, vowed not to see her anymore if she did not follow. The night had been stormy, dark and though Chrystine had anxiously thought now, she would go to him now, the crash had said never.
    Neither she nor her son had taken another breath.
    Frederic never again felt his son’s tiny, dimpled hand wrap around his finger. He’d never see him as a young boy or guide him through the painful process of becoming a man.
    “I know they’re gone.” Concern etched in his features, Alex reached out and firmly seized Frederics shoulder. “Maybe they’re not coming back, brother, but I was hoping you would.”