Chapter 7
RHETT
It was three in the morning and I was so fucking done with people.
By midnight, most people had already been shitfaced.
I stopped drinking because I refused to be drunk around anyone.
It was a risk. That was a rule my father instilled in me from an early age.
We could drink, but we could never allow ourselves to get drunk.
Drunk people said and did stupid things.
Loose lips were a death sentence. I had to remain in control.
I remembered my father’s “training.” He had me drinking whiskey from the time I was twelve.
I had built up quite the tolerance. Wine with dinner.
Whiskey after dinner. I wasn’t sure I could even get drunk after all of his training.
But it had prevented me from climbing into a bottle like so many other people in that world. I enjoyed a drink at the end of the night. I enjoyed wine with a meal, but I rarely drank to be drunk.
But tonight, I might have to break my own rule. It was too late to call Cara for a booty call. I was an asshole but I had some manners. I couldn’t stop thinking about Clementine.
Clem. She insisted we all call her Clem. She stayed at my table for an hour, and every minute of that hour, my eyes kept returning to her mouth. I couldn’t stop imagining her lips wrapped around my cock.
I knew that made me a jerk, but I couldn’t stop the thoughts.
I was a red-blooded man. I wasn’t the only one that watched her. I saw the looks from the men in the room. They all wanted her. Unlike Hwan, all of us had the decency not to proposition her.
Although the thought had certainly crossed my mind more than once.
The actual event had ended around two, but that was when the real work began.
The schmoozing, the ass-kissing, the endless handshakes with donors who needed to feel personally appreciated for their contributions.
I had spent the last hour making small talk with people whose names I would forget by morning.
At least it had paid off spectacularly. We had not only met Desman’s ambitious fundraising goal. We outperformed. The man was practically floating by the time the last donor had signed their check, already talking about the tour that would launch on November first.
One week away.
I felt nothing about it. Neutral. Professional satisfaction at a job well done, sure, but no real emotion beyond that.
It would be what it would be. The media would sink their teeth into me like they always did whenever I did anything in the public eye.
Anytime my name was mentioned in the write-ups, they would mention my family’s less than savory past. The article would have at least a couple paragraphs dissecting my motives and dragging up ancient family history that had nothing to do with feeding hungry people.
They would probably find some way to make charity work sound sinister when my name was attached to it.
But we were going to feed a lot of people over the next month.
The tour would hit twelve cities, providing free meals to anyone who showed up, no questions asked.
And the grand finale was the free Thanksgiving For All dinner on Thanksgiving Day.
It would serve thousands of families who might not otherwise have anywhere to go.
That had to be worth something. Hopefully. If not for me, then for the hungry strangers who would benefit from all this.
“You coming, or are you planning to stand there brooding all night?” Simone’s voice cut through my internal monologue.
I looked up to find her and Conroy waiting by the door, both of them looking as exhausted as I felt.
“Yes,” I said. “We were waiting on you.”
I pushed open the driver and held it for them. We made our way to the waiting limo.
The driver was holding the door open, clearly eager to get this night over with so he could go home to his own bed.
“Shit,” Conroy muttered.
“What?” I asked and turned around.
Hwan Nakamura stumbled out with a girl under each arm. Both of them were young and clearly several drinks past their limit. They were giggling at whatever bullshit he was whispering in their ears. The sight made my jaw clench involuntarily.
I had told Conroy and Simone about the incident after Clem left our table. They weren’t surprised by my reaction.
Hwan stopped walking when he spotted our little group by the limo. He was drunk. It was evident in the ruddiness of his cheeks.
“Well, well,” he slurred. “If it isn’t the knight in shining armor himself.”
I could feel Simone and Conroy tensing beside me, both of them recognizing the potential for this situation to go sideways fast. The smart play was to ignore him, get in the limo, and let him embarrass himself with whoever was unlucky enough to be watching.
The man clearly needed liquid courage to face off against me.
“Let’s go,” Simone said.
But Hwan wasn’t done.
“I know who you are,” Hwan said. “What you are.”
“Fascinating,” I said flatly, not moving toward the limo but not taking the bait either.
“It sounds like your whole family’s got a thing for knives,” he said, grinning like he’d just delivered the punchline to the world’s funniest joke.
“Of course, they use theirs for different purposes than we do in the kitchen. Couldn’t cut it in their world, huh?
Had to take those knife skills into the kitchen. Sucks to be the black sheep.”
Conroy spat on the asphalt, a gesture of disgust that perfectly captured what we were all feeling.
“Bad press is a two-way street, Hwan,” Simone warned. “I would suggest you carry on your merry way before you say something you can’t take back.”
The smart thing to do was listen to her warning and stumble off to whatever hotel room he booked for his evening’s entertainment. Instead, he doubled down.
“Oh, the ice queen speaks,” he sneered, focusing his bleary attention on Simone. “What’s the matter, sweetheart? Didn’t your boyfriend tell you he was trying to get in little Clem’s pants? Playing the white knight when everyone knows he’s the dark knight.”
“Not my boyfriend,” Simone hissed.
Hwan looked her up and down. “But you want him. You want to ride the Mortician.”
That did it.
I was moving before I consciously decided to, my hands already curling into fists as I closed the distance between us. The girls flanking Hwan abandoned him with little shrieks of alarm, but he was too drunk to react quickly enough to get out of my way.
Simone’s hand clamped down on my shoulder with surprising strength, her fingernails digging into my suit jacket hard enough that I felt them through the fabric.
“Stop,” she said. “Right now. Don’t do it.”
“He needs to learn some fucking manners,” I growled, not taking my eyes off Hwan’s suddenly pale face.
“And you can’t teach them to him if you’re behind bars,” she shot back. “Use your head, Rhett. You can’t feed hungry people from a jail cell. This bottom feeder isn’t worth it.”
The words hit me like cold water. She was right, of course.
She was always right when it came to keeping me from making decisions I would regret later.
One assault charge would unravel everything we had built, everything we all worked for.
It would all disappear in a cloud of scandal and legal proceedings.
But God, I wanted to hit him. Wanted to teach him that there were consequences for running his mouth and treating women like disposable entertainment.
My pulse hammered in my temples. Adrenaline flooded my system with the familiar cocktail of violence and rage that had gotten me in trouble more times than I cared to count.
The only thing standing between Hwan and a trip to the emergency room was Simone’s grip on my shoulder and the knowledge that she was absolutely right about the consequences.
Slowly, I unclenched my fists and took a step back.
Hwan seemed to realize how close he had come to making a very serious mistake. Some of the drunken bravado drained out of his face, replaced by the dawning awareness that he just poked a bear with a stick.
“That’s what I thought,” he mumbled, but his heart wasn’t in it anymore.
“Get the fuck out of here,” I said quietly. “Before I change my mind about listening to good advice.”
He didn’t need to be told twice. He gathered up his companions and disappeared into the night.
“Feel better?” Simone asked dryly, finally releasing her death grip on my shoulder.
“Not particularly,” I admitted, the adrenaline crash leaving me feeling drained and irritated.
“You can’t beat up everyone that says stupid stuff.”
“I don’t see why not.”
Conroy grinned and climbed into the limo. Simone got in next. I made sure Hwan was really gone before I slid into the seat.
We dropped Conroy off first at his Upper West Side apartment, then swung by Simone’s place in Midtown. She paused before getting out, turning to look at me one last time.
“Whatever you’re thinking about that girl, be careful. She’s not some socialite looking for a good time. She’s Desman’s daughter.”
“I’m not thinking about anyone,” I lied.
“Sure you’re not,” she said. “Just remember, complicated women require complicated solutions. Make sure you’re ready for that kind of investment.”
The driver pulled away before I could formulate a response, leaving me alone with my thoughts for the remainder of the trip to my penthouse.
My building rose from the Manhattan skyline. The upper floors offered views that real estate agents described as “breathtaking” and “once in a lifetime.” The doorman opened the car door with his usual curt nod.
“Evening, Mr. Voss,” the security guard at the front desk said as I crossed the marble lobby. “Hope you had a good night.”
“It was productive,” I replied, which was about as positive as these interactions ever got.
The elevator carried me up sixty-seven floors in smooth, silent efficiency, depositing me in the private hallway that led to my front door. My keycard activated the electronic lock with a soft beep. I stepped into the sanctuary I had created for myself at the top of the world.
Silence greeted me. Floor-to-ceiling windows offered a panoramic view of the city that never slept, though from this height it looked more like a circuit board than a living, breathing metropolis.
I loosened my tie and walked to the bar, pouring myself three fingers of twenty-five-year-old Scotch. Tonight demanded a drink. The liquid burned pleasantly as it went down.
I needed to shake Clementine from my thoughts. I had to stop thinking about that grateful smile she had given me. The way she looked at me like I was some kind of hero.
I drained the glass and left it on the counter.
I made my way to my bedroom, done in all black and white.
The entire apartment could have been a black-and-white movie.
Cool grays were the only color in the place.
I kicked off my shoes and stripped out of the suit.
I left it in a heap on the floor before climbing completely naked into bed.
The black satin sheets were cool against my skin. Good. I probably should have taken a cold shower but I didn’t have the energy. I closed my eyes and there she was, smiling at me. There were no rules about fucking her in my dreams.