Chapter Seventeen
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Caleb
I ’d just gotten home and relieved Tillie from watching Owen for the afternoon when I received a text message on my phone.
This is Valerie. Stevie had an accident and Jack and I are taking her to urgent care to make sure she’s okay. She wanted to let you know that she won’t be able to make it for dinner tonight.
What the hell? What kind of accident? My heart seemed to slam against my chest, and I immediately called Stevie’s phone because I didn’t have the patience to get information through texts, and it was Valerie who picked up.
“What do you mean she had an accident, and why does she need to go to urgent care?” I demanded to know more harshly than I’d intended. I wasn’t a man prone to panic, but then again, the word “accident” was too damn vague for me and worst-case scenarios were filling up my mind faster than I could sort through them.
“She had an altercation with my ex just outside of work,” Valerie said, sounding upset. “She’s mostly okay. Scraped hands and knees and she says her wrist hurts, so we just want to make sure it’s not broken.”
“I’m coming down to urgent care,” I said, my only thought to see for myself that Stevie’s injuries were minor. “Which one is it?”
I heard Valerie relay that message to Stevie, then she came back on the phone with her sister’s reply.
“Stevie asked that you please don’t come down here. She’s insisting that it’s not that serious, and there’s nothing you can do for her here, anyway. We’re walking in now, so I need to go and get Stevie checked in. She said she’ll let you know when we’re back home.”
The line disconnected before I could demand more answers, and for the next two and a half hours it was all I could do to remain calm—making dinner for Owen and getting him through his evening routine—and not ignore Stevie’s request to stay home.
Frustration coursed through me. It had already been a helluva week, and it was only Wednesday. On Monday, I’d talked to Remy about the prescription pills Stevie had seen Alyssa taking at the gala, and just as I thought, as much as Remy wanted to help, there was nothing he could do to find out what medications my ex was currently taking to rule out the possibility of anything addicting.
So, yesterday, I’d made the difficult, and only, decision to call Alyssa’s parents to discuss the possible issue with them, which hadn’t gone over well. It had been an awkward and tense conversation, with her mother, Joyce, accusing me of trying to malign their daughter’s character, which I found laughable considering what Alyssa had done to Stevie the night of the gala.
I’d expressed my concerns based on Alyssa’s behavior, and even the few times that Owen had told me about Alyssa not feeling well and him staying with his grandparents during the weeks that she had him because she was sleeping so much. Reluctantly, Joyce finally admitted that Alyssa was dealing with anxiety and depression, which meant maybe, possibly, hopefully those pills she’d been taking were nothing more than a prescription to help with those issues.
I wasn’t fully convinced, but it was all I had to go on. I’d expected a phone call from a pissed-off Alyssa, telling me to stay out of her business, but, surprisingly, I hadn’t heard from her. Which made me wonder if her parents had kept our phone conversation, and my worries, to themselves. And if so, maybe they were more concerned about their daughter than they’d let on.
As the time dragged on while I waited for Stevie to return home from urgent care, I constantly checked my phone for messages, anxious for an update on her condition and my stomach in knots. I allowed Owen to play twenty minutes of Minecraft before it was time for bed, while I paced restlessly in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows in my living room. I dragged my fingers through my hair for the umpteenth time, feeling helpless and beyond furious that this ex of Valerie’s had dared to touch Stevie in any way.
From what I understood, the restraining order against Mark was for Valerie, so he hadn’t violated any laws in that regard by approaching Stevie, though an altercation was possible grounds for an assault charge, and an arrest if he was responsible for Stevie’s injuries. I needed to know the details, because whoever this asshole was, I was going to make sure he understood that I was far more intimidating and powerful than a fucking restraining order. That if he came near Valerie or Stevie again, there would be hell to pay.
At ten after eight, I finally received a text from Stevie’s phone, brief and to the point. I’m home and I’m fine. I’m exhausted and I’ll talk to you tomorrow.
My jaw clenched, hating how guarded and emotionally withdrawn she’d been with me since Saturday night, and there was no way I wasn’t going to see for myself that she was fine , as she’d put things. I was so wound up, and I refused to wait another minute to find out what the hell happened.
I called Cara to stay with Owen, and after she arrived I strode down to Stevie and Valerie’s apartment, knocking briskly on the door.
Jack, the guy Valerie was dating, appeared on the other side, and I was grateful that he’d stayed with the two of them at urgent care and made sure they’d gotten home safely.
The other man gave me a smirk. “Stevie did warn us after sending you that last text message to expect you, despite her saying she’d talk to you tomorrow.” His tone was filled with humor.
I was far from amused as I walked into the apartment behind Jack, seeing only Valerie sitting on the living room couch. “Where is she?” I asked, feeling anxious that Stevie was nowhere in sight to reassure me that she truly was okay.
“She’s taking a shower,” Valerie replied. “She’s scraped up from the fall, and she did sprain her left wrist, but nothing is broken.”
Relief flooded through me, along with sheer determination to put an end to this guy’s harassment, by any means necessary. I sat down in a chair across from where Jack and Valerie were seated on the sofa. “Tell me everything that happened.”
Valerie was more forthcoming with the details, while I knew that Stevie would have downplayed the situation. By the time Valerie finished relaying the story of her ex confronting Stevie before shoving her to the ground because she wouldn’t give him the information he wanted on Valerie, my entire body vibrated with anger.
“What’s Mark’s last name?” I asked Valerie, prepared to have Remy find out whatever he could on this guy to use to my advantage before I paid him a personal visit myself.
“Branson,” Valerie said.
That brought me up short, and I stared at her in disbelief. “Branson…as in The Branson Group?”
She nodded. “Yes. I used to work there. That’s how I met Mark.”
Holy shit, I thought, putting the pieces together in my mind. Mark Branson…the son of Grant Branson, the CEO of The Branson Group, a financial investment firm I was well acquainted with. The leverage I needed had just fallen into my lap in the most karmic way.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Stevie walk into the main living area, wearing an old T-shirt and a pair of pink, well-worn sweatpants. Her hair was damp, and her left wrist was encased in a black brace. When she saw me, she sighed in resignation.
I immediately jumped up from the couch and approached her, my eyes checking her out from head to toe, just in case the doctor missed anything. I didn’t bother to ask if she was okay, because I knew I’d get a very pat, “I’m fine”, response.
“Are you in pain?” I asked instead, also seeing the red scratches on her palms. It took everything in me not to pick up her hands and hold them in mine, or just touch her in general. But I heeded her body language, which was extremely guarded.
She shrugged. “My left wrist is a little uncomfortable. I took a few ibuprofens so I can sleep.”
I frowned at her weary expression, at the fatigue I could see in her eyes. There was no telling how many aches and pains she’d be feeling by morning. “Maybe you should stay home from work tomorrow.”
Her chin lifted a fraction, and she gave me one of those “you’re not the boss of me” looks that would have made me laugh under different circumstances. “I have a presentation tomorrow and I’m not calling in sick.”
“The team can handle the presentation,” Jack offered. “Samantha and Brandy would certainly understand.”
“No, I’ll be there,” Stevie insisted, stubborn as ever.
“Okay, but if you wake up in the morning and don’t feel up to it and change your mind—”
“I won’t,” she reiterated, then shifted her gaze back to me, a slight smile on her lips as if to soften her next words. “I’m really tired and I’m going to bed. Thank you for coming by and checking on me.”
I gave her a nod, when all I wanted was to take her home with me, tuck her into my bed where she belonged, and watch over her. But that clearly wasn’t an option. “I’m taking care of the Mark situation first thing in the morning.”
Her eyes went wide with surprise. “How?”
“I know his father personally.” That’s all the information Stevie needed, because I knew she wouldn’t approve of what I had in mind.
A small frown formed between her brows and I knew she was considering telling me to stay out of it. Not a chance , I thought, but I waited for her reply. Finally, she sighed in what seemed like acceptance.
“Well, I hope whatever you say to him works better than a restraining order.”
Thank goodness common sense had won out. I didn’t want to argue with her tonight. “Oh, it will,” I promised.
Uncaring that the two other people in the room were watching, I finally gave in to the urge to reach out and lightly caress my fingers along Stevie’s cheek. She instinctively softened at my touch, and almost leaned into my hand before she caught herself and slowly pulled back.
So, I did the same. For now. “Get some rest and I’ll check in with you tomorrow.”
***
The next morning, I strode into The Branson Group and up to the receptionist’s desk. Brittany, who I was well acquainted with since she’d been there for a few years, greeted me with a smile.
“Hi, Mr. Kane,” she said, then tipped her head in confusion as her eyes seemed to go over a document on her computer screen. “I don’t have you on the schedule for a meeting this morning. Is Mr. Branson expecting you?”
“No,” I said amicably. “This is a visit on a personal matter. Can you let him know it’s urgent that I speak to him?”
Yes, it was presumptuous of me to show up and demand to see the CEO of the firm, but when a company retained tens of millions of my dollars, I had every right to be confident of my ability to command an impromptu meeting with Grant Branson.
Sure enough, after a brief conversation on the phone, Brittany flashed me another smile. “He’ll see you in his office,” she said, not bothering to get up from her seat to escort me since I’d been there dozens of times before.
“Thank you.” I headed toward the suite of executive offices, to the one with a panoramic view of New York City.
I walked inside Grant’s office and closed the door behind me since nobody else needed to be privy to this conversation, before approaching his desk. Grant stood up and reached across his desk to shake my hand. He was an older man, probably close to the same age my father would have been, with distinguished graying hair and pale blue eyes that were filled with curiosity, and maybe a bit of concern, for my unscheduled visit.
“Caleb, it’s always great to see you, but this is unexpected,” he said, as he sat down in the leather chair behind his desk, and I settled into one across from him. “Is there an issue with your portfolio?”
“Not at the moment,” I said in a neutral tone. “But that will depend on how this meeting goes.”
Grant frowned, the concern in his eyes unmistakable. “I didn’t realize you were unhappy with our advice and management of your investments.”
“I wasn’t, until some recent events were brought to my attention, which have to do with your son, Mark.”
“Mark?” Grant repeated, looking thoroughly confused. “He’s only a junior advisor and doesn’t handle your investments.”
“Oh, I know that,” I said, then asked, “Are you familiar with the name Valerie Palmer?”
He grimaced. “Yes. Mark dated her for a while. I know they had a rocky breakup, which then started affecting her work here at the firm and we had to let her go. All the more reason to adopt a no-office-romance policy.”
The last bit was said with a bit of humor, and I didn’t care for the fact that the blame was laid on Valerie. “Is that what Mark told you? That she wasn’t able to do her job because of their breakup?”
Grant must have heard the thread of anger in my tone, because he sat up straighter, his demeanor tensing. “What does any of this have to do with your investments?”
“Good question, and I’ll get to that in a minute.” I gave him a tight smile. “Here’s what I know and believe, based on your son’s recent actions. He dated Valerie, but he was also abusive to her in that relationship—”
“Wait a minute,” Grant said, interrupting me. “That’s quite an accusation you’re making against my son.”
I didn’t back off, considering the proof against Mark…and then it occurred to me that Grant might not even know about his son’s less-than-sterling behavior. “Are you aware that Mark has a restraining order against him, filed by Valerie?”
Grant went quiet, but the oh shit look on his face spoke volumes.
“If you didn’t know—because why would a grown man tell his father something embarrassing like that?—I can assure you that he does have a restraining order against him. And he’s violated it by stalking Valerie and contacting her by phone.”
“How do you know this?” Grant asked, his shock still apparent.
“Because Valerie’s sister, Stevie, is my girlfriend,” I told him. “And yesterday, your son assaulted Stevie outside her workplace after demanding to know where to find Valerie. She ended up with scrapes and bruises and a sprained wrist.”
Grant scrubbed a hand along his face and shook his head, looking appalled. “I…I had no idea.”
Sadly, I believed him, and I was glad that he didn’t try and make excuses for Mark’s behavior. However, that didn’t change the ultimatum I was about to issue. “Regardless, as much as I appreciate our working relationship and the firm’s management of my investments, if you don’t handle your son’s inability to stay away from Valerie and Stevie, I will have no issues pulling my portfolio and taking it elsewhere. And if I do that, you can be assured that my partner, Beck Daniels, will do the same, along with any other person I’ve recommended to this firm…which I’ll no longer be able to do when it employs such an unstable financial advisor.”
Much to Grant’s credit, he took my ultimatum seriously, probably because he realized how much he, and his firm, had to lose. “I’m very sorry about this,” he said, his apology genuine. “I know Mark has had anger issues stemming from my nasty divorce with his mother a few years ago, but I had no idea he’d abused Valerie.” The man visibly shuddered. “Or that he has a restraining order against him. You can rest assured I’ll take care of the issue immediately.”
Satisfied with his response, I stood up. “I hope you do. If Mark so much as tries to contact Valerie again, in any way, shape, or form, or approaches my girlfriend, Stevie, we’re done.”
Grant stood up, too, and nodded. “I understand.”
I reached across the desk and shook his hand again out of respect for our current relationship, then left his office, certain Grant would do everything in his power to make sure that his son didn’t fuck up one of the firm’s biggest accounts, and Mark left innocent women alone.