Chapter 47 Cole
Cole
The rain battered me. It soaked through the wooden bench beneath me, and pitted circles in the greasy puddles at my feet.
A stiff wind made me shiver. Hello, British Summer Time.
How I’ve missed you. I’d intended to go straight to the office this morning, but somehow I hadn’t made it.
Instead, I was sitting in a park opposite the office, trying to figure out why I was sitting in a fucking park opposite the office when I had work to do.
“Are you sure you don’t want the umbrella, sir?” my valet asked politely.
I glanced up at him. The rain was steady now.
A relentless gray assault that had soaked through my coat, through my shirt, to the skin.
I made no effort to move. I deserved this kind of punishment, but my valet didn’t.
The poor man was as soaked as me. I’d told him to leave several times.
From his stoic expression, you’d think sitting in the rain like this was completely normal.
“It’s fine, thank you, Dave. I told you. Take the car. I don’t need you anymore.”
He glanced around the park, his eyes drifting from the overflowing bin to the run-down playground where a group of rowdy teenagers larked around under a graffiti-covered shelter.
“I don’t want to leave you here on your own, sir.”
“What do you mean?”
He cleared his throat and adjusted his wet cap. “You don’t look . . . You don’t seem yourself.”
Right. I wasn’t my fucking self. I hadn’t slept in a week.
My gut wouldn’t stop churning. Every time I closed my eyes to sleep, my brain wouldn’t give me a minute’s peace.
I tore off the crusts of my sandwich and threw them to the pigeons.
Not like I was going to eat it, anyway. My appetite had disappeared.
The birds flocked in a loud, squabbling chaos that grated on me.
“Why don’t you let me take you back home, sir? You can dry off.”
“I’m supposed to be in the office.”
He held his face perfectly expressionless, despite the large raindrops running down his nose. “Shall I accompany you to the office now?”
I hunched in my drenched peacoat. A great shiver ran through me. No. I couldn’t face it. It was all so pointless. I couldn’t sit through another meeting when none of it mattered. All that mattered was Charlotte.
“No. Please, just go. No point us both getting wet.”
“Sorry to bother you, Mr. Thorner.” A tentative voice drifted to my ears.
Thorner. I’d have to go back to it. Not yet. Not until the divorce was finalized. I looked up to see a vaguely familiar blonde woman in a smart suit.
“What is it?”
She swallowed. “We were just wondering if you’re coming inside. You have a solid calendar of meetings today.”
“Cancel them.”
She exchanged an uneasy look with Dave. “All of them?”
“Yes.”
She bit her lip. “Also, it’s Alice’s last day. We’ve organized a fuddle in the conference room.”
I couldn’t keep the irritation rolling under my skin from my voice. “I don’t know what that word means.”
“A buffet. Everybody brings something to eat.” She cleared her throat. “I thought I should make you aware in case you see people enjoying themselves and get mad about it. I promise it will only be during lunch break.”
I cut her a sharp glance. She clasped her hands tightly in front of herself. She looked frightened. The way people looked around my father. Charlotte’s words rang in my head. Have you considered being less of an arsehole?
“What’s your name?”
The rain bore down heavier. She held her hands protectively over her blonde curls.
“Olive.”
I motioned to Dave. “I think Olive might appreciate the umbrella.”
Dave opened out the sleek black umbrella, holding it over Olive’s head. She stepped under the arc of shelter and nodded her thanks.
“How long have you worked for me?”
“A year.”
This woman had worked for me a year, and I couldn’t have picked her out of an identity parade.
The turnover of my assistants was usually so high, it wasn’t worth learning their names.
But maybe if I wasn’t such a prick, I’d get to keep an assistant, or a wife for that matter, longer.
At least Lucas would be pleased. He’d won the bet.
My marriage had lasted less than six months.
Amazing that Theo had been the optimist of the two of them.
I stared over the wet grass to the jutting steel and glass offices beyond.
It reminded me of New York. Philip Thorner had always made me feel small, but standing in Times Square after the quiet pace of Ecclesdale had made me realize that I wasn’t just small, I was infinitesimal.
That moment changed me. I understood that if I was ever going to escape my father’s clutches and make my mark on the world, it would take supreme effort and relentlessness.
It would take every fiber of my fucking being.
But I’d been a boy. It was the logic of a child.
Now, I was a man. I wouldn’t be terrorized, and I would do everything within my power to be better.
“Your wife called and left a message.”
A flicker of hope lit my chest. I sat straighter. “Oh? Did she like the handbags? What about the flowers? Did you organize the villa in the Seychelles?”
She avoided eye contact. Not nervous. Afraid. “She said she wants you to stop sending things to the house.”
“Did she say anything else?”
“No.”
I ran a hand through my soaking hair. The hammering rain and the squawking of the pigeons at my feet as they fought each other viciously for the last crumbs filled my ears. I’d lost her. None of this mattered anymore. Not my father. Not the business. Only her.
Olive took a step back. “Was there anything else, Mr. Thorner?”
“What are the names of my other assistants?”
“Fiona and Seth.”
Olive, Fiona, and Seth. I could remember that.
“Apparently, a member of staff left, and they said this isn’t a pleasant working environment. What can I do to make it better?”
“Better?”
“Yes. How can I be a better boss?”
Rain machine-gunned off the umbrella over her head. She blinked. “I don’t know, Mr. Thorner. Everything is great as it is.”
“I know that’s not true. You can be honest. You won’t get into trouble. What would make you want to stay? What do I need to do? A more sophisticated coffee machine? Donuts?”
She frowned. “That would be nice. Maybe, if it was a little less . . . intense. If you were a little more . . . approachable.” Her smile was tense. “Some flexibility in working hours would be good. More work–life balance.”
Fine. I’d have HR do a staff survey. I could find out what people wanted and accommodate it.
She brightened. “Casual Fridays?”
If I didn’t feel so depressed, I might have had it in me to laugh. I managed an eyebrow raise. “Don’t push it, Olive.”
She smothered a smile. “Right.”
“Why don’t you get some more things for your fuddle? Whatever you like. Put it on expenses. Other people having a party doesn’t make me mad. I just don’t like surprises.”
“Thank you. Was there anything else?”
She glanced back at the offices, as though desperate to escape me.
“There is one thing. Do you believe a person can change, Olive?”
She swallowed and swiped her hands down her pencil skirt. This poor woman looked unnerved by me. This was the legacy I’d built for myself. It wouldn’t do.
“It doesn’t matter. I don’t suppose I’m paying you enough to answer questions like that.”
“No. It’s fine.” She took a step forward and straightened her shoulders. Dave shuffled with her, holding the umbrella over her head. “Yes. I believe people can change, but they must want to, and they must do the work.”
“What work?”
“It depends how you want to change? I had a fear of driving a few years ago, and I went to therapy. It helped a lot.”
“I’m not the type to go to therapy.”
She fiddled with a chain around her neck. “Maybe you’d surprise yourself.”
They say what doesn’t kill you strengthens you.
I used to believe that, but it was a lie.
Sometimes, things just diminished us. They broke our hearts.
Made us weak. Cracked us open. Sometimes life molded us into men slumped on benches with coffee stains on soaked shirts and staff tiptoeing around us like we were unexploded bombs.
But maybe this was the point you had to get to.
Raw. Repentant. Lost. What if I wasn’t broken?
What if I was just a mound of wet clay, ready to be reshaped?
Why couldn’t I change? Didn’t I get to make that choice?
One thing was for damn sure, I wouldn’t give up.
I had to find a way in. A way to show Charlotte that I could be the man she deserved.
Obviously, flowers and diamonds wouldn’t cut it.
Charlotte had never cared for those things.
I needed some advice. Someone who knew Charlotte.
“One last thing. Could you set up a round of golf with my brother?”
“Which brother?”
The one who, for some unfathomable reason, Charlotte seemed to like. “Reuben.”
“No one else could join us?” Reuben held his tongue between his teeth as he lined up his shot with an excessive amount of wiggling.
“Lucas couldn’t get childcare, and Theo’s got some new bodyguard gig.”
Reuben looked up from the ball. “I didn’t think he did private security anymore?”
“He doesn’t. It’s a favor for a friend.”
Hard to decide what was more surprising about that situation. The idea that Theo would do anyone a favor, or that he had a friend who would dare ask for one. Reuben struck his ball and it flew off down the fairway.
I lined up my shot. “I’m glad it’s just the two of us. I wanted to talk to you about something. Have you seen Charlotte at all since Rome?”
Reuben kept his gaze on the flag in the distance. “We’ve texted. I haven’t seen her.”
“How is she?”
“She says she’s OK. I think she’s very sad. I’ve been trying to get her to go out of the house, but she doesn’t want to do anything.” He shot me a worried glance. “As friends, obviously. Just friends. I think that’s what she needs the most right now.”
Friends. My heart hurt. That was the worst part of all of this. I missed my best friend.