Chapter 26
Alex
It's over! It's over!
"And it's all because of that Jake and his stupid..." I burst out as I enter my mansion, furiously kicking a wastebasket in the corner. It flies across the room, slams against the wall, and then spins a few times before coming to a stop.
As much as I'd like to say it's Jake and Dilara's fault, I know it's not that simple.
I should have just explained to her from the beginning why I noticed her shop. Apologized for last year, gone out to dinner once, and then made an offer. But I couldn't keep my dick in my pants, or my hands off her.
But even that's only half the truth. Because the biggest bombshell of all is the fact that Beth has a child.
She hid it from me and is making me out to be a liar. Sure, I hid something from her, but so did she! So why is she acting like this is all my fault?
After all, I left the boring charity gala and drove over to her place to talk. You'd think that would be worth something. I even apologized and tried to explain everything. But she wouldn't listen.
And then, when her friend, that Veronica, came down the stairs and told her that her baby probably wanted to nurse... Shit, I hate myself for it, but I felt like something inside me broke in that moment.
I wanted to tell her again how sorry I was about the misunderstanding, but I couldn't. I've never felt so betrayed.
I basically don't even know who she is. What's her relationship with the father?
Does she even know him? Did they just break up recently?
She doesn't have a conventional family, otherwise her friend wouldn't have to help out.
Or maybe she's bisexual? No, now I'm just making things up.
But the fact is, she was just putting on an act for me the whole time.
Of course, the stupid idea with the bet for the shop—a silly rivalry I should have outgrown after puberty at the latest—doesn't exactly cover me in glory either.
"Sir, you're back?" Eric greets me, apparently drawn from the study I provide for him here by the crash of the wastebasket.
"I am. Did the guests handle it okay?" I ask Eric, whom I had instructed to ask my guests to leave. I didn't want to go back to an event and listen to retired, half-bald, rich tuxedo-wearers tell me how to treat my date. I know myself that I wasn't on my best behavior.
"It wasn't a problem. Only the mayor..." Eric pauses. "He would have liked to speak with you and said you should call."
"I'll do that. Thanks, Eric. You can head home," I say, giving him an appreciative pat on the shoulder and resolving not to take my bad mood out on him.
"One more thing, have you seen Cutie?" I ask Eric as he's already at the door.
"No, not all evening. Shouldn't she be in the kitchen?"
"Right. Thanks." I head for the kitchen, check the food and water bowls I got for her, but they're still just as full as they were right before I picked Beth up.
"Cutie?" I call out, but nothing stirs. I look around, wondering where she could be hiding. It's strange how such a little ball of fur can magically attract me in a moment full of anger and sadness. Her gaze and purr alone could lift my spirits.
I pause my search and call the mayor.
"Mr. Rodgers, your assistant mentioned something came up?" the mayor answers immediately after the first ring.
"Yes, my apologies. My date and I..." I pause, wondering if he saw it too. Better to play with an open hand. "You may have noticed there was a discussion, and I urgently needed to clear things up with her."
"Your 'discussion,' as you call it, I saw it, of course. Everyone did," he says, and I can definitely hear disapproval in his voice.
"I apologized. Not my best day," I say, sparing him the details that the follow-up conversation didn't go any better.
"A true gentleman, Mr. Rodgers," he says, sounding more satisfied, and clears his throat. I don't feel like a gentleman. More like the asshole he took me for before, and suddenly I feel an emptiness inside me as I realize that it really might be over with Beth.
Shit!
"Mr. Rodgers, I wanted to talk to you about the property on 4th Street. Jake asked me to." I'm astonished. They're on a first-name basis? That wasn't a good sign.
"What about it?" I ask, already knowing from the phrasing of his first sentence that Jake's words were no bluff. Otherwise, the mayor wouldn't know about it.
"He's going to acquire the property. We have an agreement."
"But sir, we already had preliminary talks about the property around the flower shop. That's not fair."
"My hands are tied, Mr. Rodgers. Fair or not. The city council approved the property Jake bid on for sale just a day before. Jake was in the right place at the right time." What kind of bullshit was this! It couldn't be true.
"What if I offer a better price? I'll offer double," I ask quickly.
"But you don't even know what Jake offered."
"I know the city could use more money," I add quickly, knowing it's not about the price. Jake seems to have his vultures everywhere. How could he have known that the city had decided a day earlier to sell the property it owned?
"I don't know... I have to make a few calls. I can't promise you anything," the mayor says.
"All right. Make your calls. We'll talk again," I say, and we say our goodbyes and end the call. When a politician says he can't promise anything, I knew what that meant. A diplomatic no.
But maybe I'm just seeing everything in a negative light today because the way the evening has unfolded is getting on my last nerve.
"Cutie?" I call out again, checking the utility room where she was last time, but she's not there either. Then I go back to the kitchen, open a beer, and notice an open window. Next to it is a tipped-over glass. Cutie? Did she escape through the window?
Sure, things like that can happen, especially with a new cat. But why today of all days, and who left the window open? It could only have been my assistant or someone from the kitchen staff.
Furious, I call my assistant.
"Sir, have you heard?" he asks me, his voice sounding quite distressed.
"About my cat? Just found out. Who left the window open in the kitchen?" I snap.
"Your cat? No. I mean the helicopter crash. It was just on Channel 8. Your private helicopter. Over an open field. The pilot was just picking it up from repairs. He's been taken to the hospital."
"Shit," I blurt out. As if enough hadn't happened today already.
Decency required that I, as his employer, check on my pilot. He has a family, after all, and it was my helicopter he crashed in.
"Where is he?" I ask, jotting down the name of the hospital. "And Eric? In the meantime, put up some missing posters for Cutie."