I drop into my chair and hug my middle, trying to ease the shakes.
I need to call Lucas, but I need to have this under control first.
* * *
I go straight to my apartment. I don’t call into the office on the way. I’m in no mood to see anything but the bottom of a whisky bottle.
She kicked me out. Me.
Yeah, I totally get that she’s upset—but, Christ, she needed to be taken care of, not left alone with that bastard.
I pour a double and take both the bottle and the glass into the living room, dropping onto the
sofa and yanking my tie loose. The memory comes of her taking hold of it earlier, the look of passion and joy in her face...
My hand tightens around the glass and I throw back a mouthful, needing its burn.
Seeing her brother like that, hearing him speak about her like he did, the venom in his voice when he spoke to me.
Fuck.
I hunch forward, my elbows on my knees as I stare down into the amber liquid. It’s never going to work. So long as they’re around her, we will never work.
The way she looked between us both, her confusion, her torment... Who does she care about more? It all played out on her face as plain as day. I’m losing her. I can feel it. And my stomach twists, an ice-cold sweat prickling over my skin.
But we have a business arrangement. She told me that much. It’s my one hope to keep her.
Hardly.
She can easily work directly with Maylene and the team in Singapore—she’ll expect to. No CEO is going to get involved in the day-to-day. She won’t need to interact with me. There’ll be no contact.
Christ.
I need to think. Fast.
I know she wants the money to buy her family out of her business. She won’t be able to do it immediately—she’ll need income first.
But if she had the money it would be Bye-bye, Beaumonts...
Bye-bye, Beaumonts, and Hello, Waring?
I neck the remainder of my glass and toss the idea around.
I’ll make it a condition of the contract. She uses my upfront investment to buy them out and bring me in.
She doesn’t have to choose anything on a personal level. It’s perfect.
Better than any fist to the face, Nate.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
AT LEAST TWO hours have gone by since Nate and my father left and I’m hiding out in my office, waiting for the last employee to leave before I venture out. It was bad enough seeing Clare’s face when she saw the state of me—I couldn’t stand the entire floor gossiping. I’ve never been so thankful for the small en suite bathroom I have adjacent to my office.
And the mini-fridge.
I take out a cold beer and pop it open, wincing as I press it to my lips.
What a day.