Chapter 6
SIX
Bastian
ANYONE COULD BE forgiven for believing he’d stopped thinking about her. He hadn’t.
In his office, at his vast oak desk that separated him from his rambling mother, Bastian shouldn’t be distracted by memories of Harper’s scent. Yet there he was.
“Bastian,” Carolyn Hunt said to her son. “Are you listening to me?”
No was the quick answer. His mother wouldn’t like that truth and she’d raised him better than to be so harsh.
“Yes,” he said instead, drawing his focus from the grand floor-to-ceiling windows beyond the conference table to his right. “I’m listening. It’s the same story you’ve been spouting for months. I don’t need to hear it again.”
Months? Since high school.
“We’re worried about you,” she said.
His mother’s heart was in the right place. Still, he could do without the interference. Stress didn’t feature in his life, it didn’t fray his nerves. Except right then, the hounding sensation plagued him. Insomnia. Irritability. Why was he so on edge?
That something he was missing… Something? Someone?
“Great.” He pushed away from the desk to stand up, hoping she’d do the same. “Thank you for your concern. I appreciate that you care.”
“We do care,” Carolyn said, remaining seated. He should’ve known. His mom wasn’t easily handled. “Though I wonder why when you’re being glib.”
He didn’t mean to offend, he just had other things on his mind. His love life, existent or not, was one of Carolyn’s favorite hobbies. More of a priority for her than him.
“I’m sorry,” Bastian said. Relenting to his mom’s sincerity, he sat again. “You have nothing to worry about.”
“We do,” she said. “You’ve been distracted. You’re not happy, son, a mom knows.”
His mom doted on him and his sister, Keely.
They’d grown up without a nanny, unusual given their affluence.
Carolyn inherited a fortune after the death of her parents.
That money didn’t stop his father working hard while Carolyn fulfilled her dream, dedicating her days to motherhood.
They were her world then, still were, if he was honest. Most of her time now was dedicated to non-profit organizations.
Often she pursued causes in league with her best friend, another rich woman who dedicated herself to her ever-growing family.
He shrugged, like a teenager unable to figure out what answer would appease his parent.
“Things are great. I’m great. There’s no reason for me to be unhappy.”
“That doesn’t mean you’re not, sweetheart.”
It was difficult to argue with her at the best of times.
When she was right, it was nigh on impossible.
The truth, from an objective point of view, was he had no right to be unhappy.
His life was privileged, always had been, he’d never wanted for anything.
Money. Success. Family. His life was a stream of home runs.
He’d been raised right with solid values, and never experienced hardship.
Yet his insomnia continued. If anything, it was worse now he had a specific thought keeping him awake.
The scent of Harper filled his senses again. Shit. Why couldn’t he stop thinking about her? Get it together, man.
At the engagement party, they’d danced one, then another; three, maybe four, went by. Neither of them would leave the sanctuary of their embrace. The sensation of holding her calmed him. So much so it quelled his overwhelming urge to deck that Damon bastard.
When Harper lifted her head that final time, he’d known it was over. With a single nod, he had taken her hand and kissed the petal-soft skin of her knuckles. God, she had the most beautiful smile—
“Bastian!”
He snapped from the daze. “Hmm?”
“I said you should invite Nicole to the Valentine Ball.”
Rich and powerful men all over the world paused to listen when he spoke. His mom? Wasn’t intimidated. He had never unlocked the key to that or shaking her from a cause. Tenacity ran in the family.
“Mom,” he said, intending to temper her expectations. “I know you liked her—”
“I didn’t like her, I don’t know her,” Carolyn said.
“I hardly got a moment to speak to her. But if you like her, you should pursue her. It’s been so long since we’ve seen you happy with a woman.
Not all women are out for what you can give them like that Robyn.
You know that, sweetheart, don’t you? You’ve been successful in every business endeavor you’ve pursued.
But your wealth isn’t the sum of you. We want to see you happy and settled down with someone special. ”
Nice sentiment, slightly overshadowed by the fact that…
“You want grandchildren.”
The smile they shared proved how well he knew his mom.
Keely, his sister, was thirteen years his junior. His parents struggled with fertility issues. It wasn’t until they’d given up on the idea of a second child that his younger sister chose to make an appearance.
The lucky surprise that never stopped giving, Keely was bright, optimistic, and spoiled rotten, but she had a good heart.
“One or two before I’m too old to chase after them,” Carolyn said, having made no secret of her wish to be a grandmother. “That aside…” She got serious again. “I want you to be happy. You’ve never been the typical rich playboy type.”
“I was too busy,” he said, holding his hands up to the expansive office they sat in.
Grand Holdings was his life and had been since he bought a small chain of mediocre hotels in his late teens. Before he’d even left school, he started working to expand and build a reputation for himself and his hotels as a top-of-the-line luxury chain.
A good foundation of money and support helped.
His mom invested in him, showing nothing but confidence in his ability.
Making it under the steam of hard work was important to him, as was not disappointing his family.
He’d paid his mother back every cent and shown his father he’d be able to take care of his sister no matter what.
After his parents were gone, he and Keely would inherit their father’s business interests and their mom’s old money. But Bastian wanted to be a success in his own right. His parents never interfered with his business interests or discouraged him.
Being his own man was key, and he sure had learned, many times over, from his mistakes. He started small, studied every detail, tweaking his own models until profit was optimized.
His interests went beyond the hotels these days, his stock portfolio was rewarding and he owned an airline that catered to the wealthier end of the market. Life was good. But a booming business didn’t leave much time for soulmate searching.
“The playboy lifestyle never suited or appealed to you.”
Another fact. Though he knew a few, he’d never understood men who partied all the time, frittering away their money, changing girlfriends every week. Talk about counterproductive and exhausting. A man could put his time and energy to better use.
Despite that, disappointing his mom stung deep. By not prioritizing his prospective family, he’d done exactly that.
Linking his fingers, he chose to appease instead of tease. “When I meet the mother of your future grandchildren, Mom, I promise you’ll be the first to know.”
Did that make her feel better? His mom went through these phases all the time.
She’d leave him alone for months and then, from nowhere, start to panic about his lack of a wife.
That would cue a stream of harassment, well intentioned harassment, intended to prompt him into getting serious about a girlfriend.
Eventually, he’d calm her down, or his father would, and peace would return for a while.
As he got older, the frequency of the episodes increased.
His mother may feel urgency, but he’d never been inspired.
The buzzer on his phone’s intercom alerted him to Tina’s imminent contribution. Please be a reprieve…
Tina’s voice chirped down the line. “Mr. Hunt, I apologize for the interruption, but…”
“Yes?” he asked after Tina’s words trailed off.
Given the discomfort in her voice, he’d guess she was squirming. Tina was quick and efficient, two vital qualities in her role as his executive assistant. If she didn’t want to deliver whatever news she was sitting on, it couldn’t be good.
“Your girlfriend is in the hospital,” Tina said.
Turned out squirming was catching; making eye contact with his mom was a mistake.
Great, now she’d think he was hiding a romantic relationship.
The matriarch’s lecture wanted assurance he wasn’t neglecting that area of his life.
If the girlfriend thing was true, it would be cruel to keep it to himself.
For both his mother’s sanity, and his own.
“My girlfriend?”
No way his mom would believe it, but, as far as he knew, he didn’t have one.
The voice in the speaker hesitated again. “Yes, her sister called to say she’s in the ER,” Tina said. “She was mugged.”
And, still, he drew a blank. “My girlfriend?”
“Bastian…” his mom warned.
His hand wasn’t in the cookie jar, he’d swear it in front of a judge.
“Mom, I promise you—”
“Harper,” Tina interrupted. “Her name is Harper. Is that right?”
Bastian was already out of his chair. “I’m on my way.”