She’d carefully tried to keep her parents away from Mark for the same reason. Deep down inside, she thought that was why she’d continued to attend the marriage counseling sessions. It satisfied her mother to some degree, and while she was happy, she left Crystal alone for the most part. And regardless of what Bill said about wanting to avoid her mother, she knew the moment she stopped going, he would go straight to her parents to enlist their support. Then, once again, Crystal would be the difficult daughter who never did as she was told. Unfortunately, she could no longer hide from the fact that going on as she had been made her nothing but a liar and a coward. If she went to these kinds of lengths to avoid conflict, then where did it end? How could she ever truly be the strong person that she wanted to be, while still letting others run her life? Even though she’d finally divorced Bill, she still wasn’t free of him, and she wouldn’t be until she learned to stand up for herself in all areas of her life. Maybe that was something that she and Mark could work on together, because it appeared that they were both suffering at the hands of the very people supposed to love them the most.

Chapter Eighteen

His mother had the grace to at least look apologetic when he opened the door an hour later. “Sorry, dear,” she murmured as she preceded her husband in the door.

“To what do I owe the unexpected pleasure?” Mark asked dryly. His father, he noted, actually looked marginally sober, which was a rare occurrence. Apparently, that wasn’t going to last long, though, because he ignored Mark’s question and started opening cabinets in the kitchen until he found the one with liquor in it. He rummaged around next for a glass and poured it nearly full of bourbon. Great. It looked as if tonight Mark would get to deal with both his father’s drinking and the aftereffects.

“Why don’t we all go have a seat in the living room,” his mother suggested. “I’m sure we’d be far more comfortable there.” He wanted to point out that the last thing he wanted was for them to make themselves at home, but he held his tongue. At least his mother was trying to be civil. He turned and led the way, hoping to God he could get rid of them soon so he could go to Angel and forget all about his messed-up family.

Mark took one of the armchairs, while his mother reclined back on the sofa where he’d so recently been seated with Angel. Something about that seemed wrong, and he wanted to ask her to move. Dammit, must they taint anything good in his life? His father chose to remain standing, which would probably turn to swaying soon after the large glass of liquor. “So, son,” he said, making Mark’s back go ramrod straight. They were playing the parental card tonight—how fucking spectacular. “We’re here to meet your girlfriend. According to Oliver, you’ve been seeing someone for quite a while now.”

Freaking Oliver. How did he even know what was going on in Mark’s life? Oliver was his father’s brother and lived in Santa Barbara, California. Mark spoke to him about as often as he did his parents, which wasn’t much. But the bastard was nosy and about as bitter as his brother that he hadn’t been left controlling interest in the DeSanto Group. He was also more than happy to cash his dividend checks and enjoy the life that Mark provided them all. “My personal affairs aren’t open for discussion.” Lifting a brow, he asked, “Now, was there anything else?”

His mother moved from her perch and put a manicured hand on his shoulder. “Mark, we’d just like to meet her. Surely, you can understand why we’d be curious. You’ve never been in a relationship before.”

“Plus, there’s more to consider here than picking out goddamned china, boy,” his father interjected. “You come from a very wealthy family and this woman doesn’t. We have to make sure that she understands her place.”

“Her place?” Mark parroted, unable to comprehend what he was hearing. His mother’s hand tightened, and he thought that her husband’s crazy ramblings might have surprised even her. “What exactly are you talking about?” he asked, trying to rein in a temper that was threatening to blow out of control.

“Honey, I believe what your father is trying to say—and maybe not well—is that we’d love to meet Crystal. I’m sure she’s a lovely young woman, but we’re a little concerned about the difference in your backgrounds.”

Mark could only gape at her. “You grew up sharing a bedroom with three sisters and your mother made your clothes. Tell me how you’re suddenly better than the woman I’m seeing or how you could possibly stand here and have the audacity to participate in this absurd conversation? Unless I’m mistaken, you weren’t raised rich—actually, Crystal probably had it much better than you did.”

“Now listen here, son,” his father blustered. “Don’t talk to your mother in that tone. We’re tired of being treated like lepers every time we visit our son. After all we’ve done for you, is it too much to ask for some respect?”

“Respect?” he spat out. “Is that what you’re showing me when you barge into my home and immediately begin hurling insults at the woman I’m dating? By the way, I’d like to know how you know so much about her. Because I swear to God, if someone on my payroll had her investigated, then their ass will be out the door before they know what hit them.”

He could tell by the momentary shift on his father’s face that it had indeed been someone at DeSanto. Great, he was officially picking up the tab for invading Crystal’s privacy. A few of the older employees who were loyal to first his grandfather, and then his father, were still employed, and he could easily see his father finagling some favors with the assistance of Oliver. No one in his father’s family was capable of arranging anything complicated on their own. They were too used to making one simple call and getting what they needed. “This girl is divorced; were you even aware of that?”