50. A Spiral of Chaos
A Spiral of Chaos
SARAFINA
“Did you see?” Jules worried voice asked through the speakerphone from the kitchen counter.
“See what?” I asked, mulling through Liam’s fridge absentmindedly.
“I texted you.” Sloane explained. “Let’s not jump to conclusions, it was probably staged.”
I had a cheese stick hanging out of my mouth. “Hold on, I’m pulling it up.” I leaned over the counter and opened the message, looking at the picture she’d sent me. The cheese stick dropped to the floor as I gasped.
“Oh, shit.” Jules breathed. “I knew she hadn’t seen it—do you want us to come over?”
A lump formed in my throat, and I couldn’t find the words to respond.
I’d given Carter the space he’d asked for and had waited several weeks before driving back to the city. Big mistake.
“Didn’t know those short little legs could go so fast.” Vaughn muttered under his breath when I shoved through the Vandenbergh building doors faster than he could open them for me.
“Try to keep up, would you?” I stomped through the massive lobby towards the elevators.
“I would not want to be him.” He muttered, following closely behind.
“No, you would not.” I smashed the elevator buttons, grinding my teeth as the doors slid shut. Up, up, up we rode, the elevator music comically perky despite the fact that I was seeing red.
Vaughn cleared his throat, breaking the silence. “You think you’re going to be a while?” He asked warily.
I quirked a brow sassily. “Why? Do you have somewhere you need to be?”
He put his hands up in surrender. “I was just going to check in with the boss upstairs.”
“Sure.” I shrugged dramatically. “And why don’t you get yourself a little ice cream cone while you’re at it.” I didn’t know if I’d ever been so brazen, but Vaughn was a dick. He could take it.
“Just call me when you’re done.” He sighed as I marched off the elevator.
I banged through the ten-foot wooden doors into Cade’s office.
“Sup, small fry?” Cade rumbled from behind his desk as I stormed in.
“ Damn, girl. ” He hooked a thumb at me.
“Check out the drip on this one.” I’d gone shopping, gotten a blowout, bought a new dress.
I looked incredible because I was out for fucking blood.
“Get out.” I screeched at Cade, kicking him out of his own office.
“I can see you two need a minute.” Cade dipped his head and wisely pushed out of his chair, heading for the door.
“Sorry, Cade.” Carter sighed, shoulders sagging.
“Feel free to Picasso it up in here, and paint me a pretty picture with all the blood.” Cade whirled, smirking at me as he grabbed a decanter of amber liquid, and then he had the idiotic audacity to proposition me, while steam was practically blowing out of my ears.
“And when you’re done with this idiot, I’d be more than happy to sponsor your next shopping spree.
” He winked. “I could show you a real good time in the dressing rooms too. You, me, and some three-sixty mirrors?—”
“In your dreams, Blackthorn.” I snapped at the same moment Carter barked, “Get out!”
Cade just shrugged as he lingered in the doorway with a smirk. “All I’m saying is—if someone is going to have hate sex on my desk, I think it should be me.” Carter was halfway to the door when Cade finally shut it, grinning like the shit-stirrer he was.
I stopped Carter in his tracks, redirecting my own vitriol.
“Carter Ambrose Kensington, what do you have to say for yourself? Because I don’t think you have any right to be pissed at Cade.
Not after what I saw in the tabloids this morning.
” Carter quickly turned, heading towards the tall windows that overlooked the city in a futile attempt to escape my wrath.
“Don’t you dare walk away from me.” I snapped.
Cade’s office was big, but not that big.
Carter was supposed to be recovering, but I guess he was busy.
Busy working with Cade, doing God knows what, and apparently—busy kissing other people .
Tall, beautiful blonde people with impossibly perky tits, because blondes had always been his type .
In fact, I didn’t know if I’d ever seen him with a brunette growing up.
Never. I wondered if I should have plopped down in Cade’s lap and laid a big, wet, sloppy one on him to kick this whole thing off. See how Carter liked that.
“What are you doing here?” Carter asked, eyes flashing with pain, but I didn’t feel a damned bit sorry for him.
“I’m checking on you, like I do every day.
” Even as I yelled, I hated how badly I wanted him to wrap me up in his arms and tell me everything was going to be okay.
How badly I wanted him to tell me it was all just for show.
A bit. A game. Not fucking real. I of all people, knew how easily the media could use a photo to paint a story that wasn’t even remotely true.
I would probably have been named Briar Rose’s sluttiest socialite if I hadn’t bought out the images straight from the photographers, or worse.
So it was entirely possible the blonde in the photo had literally thrown herself at him, because women actually did that when it came to Carter.
Please, please, please let it be a PR stunt.
“Yeah, well, you’re not my girlfriend anymore, so don’t.” Carter bit out sharply, shoving his hands into his pockets.
I smarted back, pretending to be shocked. “Wow, I haven’t heard that ten times in the last month.”
“Maybe you should start listening.”
“You know how I know you still care?”
“How’s that?” He didn’t bother looking down at me.
“Because I still have my plane.” It had to be a sign.
A muscle ticked in his jaw. “It was a gift.”
“And because you authorized all the charges, I made this morning.” I shook my arms, showing him what I’d bought on his dime—a new set of diamond everything, and shoes. Really freaking cute shoes, too. Something, anything, to get his attention.
“I gave you that card to use if you needed it.” He shrugged indifferently, but I had spent a lot . Maybe too much. Like maybe I should return the jewelry at least.
“Because you care about me.” I practically screamed.
“And by the way, I hope all this sparkly stuff puts a dent in things.” I crossed my arms, feeling ridiculous as the chunky diamond bracelets clinked against each other.
It wasn’t my style at all, but that wasn’t the point.
The point was, I’d spent upwards of forty million dollars on diamonds and he hadn’t even so much as flinched—on a Tuesday!
“It didn’t.” He almost smirked but quickly dropped the corner of his mouth when I shot him a murderous look.
What. A. Prick. Filthy rich asshole .
The tiny pendant he’d given me for my birthday burned against my sternum, practically mocking me from beneath the gaudy diamond-cluster-necklace currently attempting to strangle me.
I could feel myself getting flustered, pissed off that I couldn’t get a rise out of him. I’d hoped a shopping spree on Mr. Frugal’s card would elicit some sort of reaction, and this was rather disappointing if I was being honest.
“Fine, then I’ll make a really, really big charitable donation on your behalf—how about fifty million to the Montclair Medical Center! How about that!” I threatened rather petulantly, wondering if that’d be enough to make him flinch.
This time he did smirk. “You go right ahead and do that, and while you’re at it, why don’t you go ahead and double it. Make it a nice round hundred—and then you can double that , pretty girl.” He winced, catching himself using his favorite term of endearment while I erupted.
“Fine!” I shouted, with a stomp of my foot. “I will.” Asshole!
A tense silence hung between us for a long while, as the question I really wanted to ask tightened around my throat like a noose. I didn’t voice it as I motioned to the paperwork that had been between him and Cade, my voice feeling thin. “What’s all this?”
He shifted uncomfortably. “Just business.”
“Carter, I’m worried about you.” I apparently could only keep up the raging bull act for two seconds.
I collapsed against the edge of the couch and groaned.
“Why the hell are you even working with Cade?” Whatever they were doing couldn’t be good.
I didn’t know exactly what Cade did, but whatever it was, I knew it was shady as shit.
“We have mutual interests now.” Carter wandered back to the desk and shuffled through the paperwork, and I could swear I caught a flash of pink, hiding under his Patek.
Maybe I was hallucinating.
Give me something, anything, Carter.
I was actually beginning to believe he really was done with me .
I watched him out of the corner of my eye while I pretended to look at my newly manicured fingernails. “Someone has been following me.”
His eyes snapped up to mine, sharp and assessing.
Ah hah! That’s fucking right. Pretending he doesn’t care. Please.
“Someone’s been following you?” He demanded protectively, finally turning his body towards me.
“Yup.” I shrugged indifferently as I eyed his suit, hunting for any signs of that stupid, beautiful blonde. No stray hairs glimmered anywhere on the dark material. Thank God.
Carter closed the space between us. “Fuck Sara. How long has this been going on?”
“Thought you didn’t care.” I flopped back into the deep couch, running my fingers over the leather tufting.
“This is different.” His jaw fanned, as if I’d caught him actually caring—what a fucking mistake. “Actually, Sara, where is your bodyguard?”
I smiled sweetly. “Waiting upstairs for me, like a good boy.”
“This is serious.”
“I know.” I shot back. Saying it out loud made it feel real.
Like it wasn’t just in my head. “To be fair, I’ve never seen anyone, but I can feel it—feel a presence watching me.
” And it had felt different from the paparazzi because eventually the paparazzi always showed themselves.
This presence was ever-present and never showed itself.