Chapter 44
By three o’clock. I’ve rewritten the same
ne paragraph of a shareholder address six times, and none of them are any good.
Griffin knocks once and enters without waiting for me to grant him entry–he’s the only one who gets away with that anymore. “Your conference call with Darnell Pharmaceuticals starts in fifteen minutes.”
I don’t look up from the laptop as I bark, “Cancel it.”
He pauses, then asks tentatively, “Sir?”
“I said cancel it,” I repeat, slower this time, as I drag a hand down my face.
Griffin doesn’t argue; he just dips his head once and steps back out, shutting the door behind him. I should feel grateful. But I don’t. I feel…
1 lean back in my chair and stare at the floor–to–ceiling windows overlooking the city. It’s a perfect day–blue skies, and the skyline gleaming in the afternoon sun like something worth owning. I should feel powerful here. I’ve spent centuries building this empire, brick by metaphorical brick. But now, this office feels like a mausoleum, but with more expensive furniture.
I pick up my phone for the eighth time in two hours. Still no number.
I had her all to myself. All weekend, I had her laugh, sarcasm, and sharp edges, which she tried to hide behind casual cruelty. I had her warmth and scent, and she slept against me like I was somewhere safe.
Now I don’t even have a goddamn way to contact her.
Griffin returns a few minutes later to hand me a report I didn’t ask for, and I snap, “What, you couldn’t email it like everyone else?”
He doesn’t blink as he coolly replies, “You prefer paper for contracts involving foreign entities.”
“Did I ask for this?” I ask condescendingly.
“No, sir. But as your Executive Assistant, it’s my job to anticipate what you need for any upcoming meetings. His tone is casual and informative, like i wasn’t an asshole to him but five seconds ago.
! grit my teeth and yank it from his hand. “Get out.”
He turns to go but pauses in the doorway, his hand wrapped around the door handle. “You know,” he says, completely deadpan, “you’re not the first man to go cold turkey from a weekend that meant something.”
I glare at him and ask coldly. “Is there a point buried underneath that insubordination?
His mouth twitches like he might smile. “Just making an observation, sir. You might want to consider writing the shareholders‘ address tomorrow. You’re clearly off your game today.”
Before I can say something I’ll regret–and probably won’t apologize for–he slips out again..
I toss the report onto my desk, lean back, and stare at the ceiling like it might offer me the answers I desperately seek. Instead, all I see are flashes of her: Harley, curled up under the blanket at the drive–in. Harley, snorting into her wine glass. Harley, trembling in my arms after last night’s kiss.
Not after a dor night stand, or even after a century–long entanglement. Not even after Raven, a name 1 buried a long time ago.
She’s in my head. And I don’t know how to fucking get her out.
rhythm that sounds suspiciously like her name.
By the time the sky bruises into twilight, I have dismissed three meetings, ruined a late lunch with my department heads, and made a senior manager cry with a single sentence.
My phone still has no new notifications from unknown numbers, and there have been no missed calls from a woman who, with one stubborn smile, sent my entire existence spiraling into madness.
A few hours later, I stand in the center of my penthouse, staring at the space like I’ve never seen it before.
It’s all clean lines and curated perfection. A glossy black baby grand piano that’s been silent for decades stands in the corner. Crystal decanters that have never been touched patiently wait on the sideboard. A fireplace that crackles at my command, which is immaculate and pristine, is Inlaid into the wall next to the open–plan kitchen, yet it’s as lifeless as my soul.
I built my home this way for a reason–to be a fortress meant to keep the world out.
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