29. Byron
29
BYRON
I had it all figured out. Once Kevin and I returned to Belmont Manor, I would head straight to the wine cellar and pick out a nice Bordeaux. Something to go perfectly with the lasagna Meg and I were having for lunch.
We’d toast to the closure of GenZ Za and the downfall of its shady owner. A quiet celebration of a small conquest. And I’d have the chance to discover more about the woman who’d firmly planted herself in my heart, showing no intention of leaving anytime soon.
When I mentioned it to Kevin, he shot me a look that made me second-guess myself.
“Do you mind if I make a suggestion?” he asked
And yes, I was all for taking advice from my gay bodyguard about courting a woman. “Sure, go ahead.”
“Listen, if you show up with some fancy bottle of wine, you’ll look like a show-off. Meg is the kind of woman who’d appreciate something more down-to-earth. The way to go is a nice bottle of Chianti with Italian food.”
It made sense. “The last thing I want is for her to think I’m a pretentious jerk. And somehow, I don’t think the wine cellar at Belmont Manor caters for a humble meal, so we’ll have to stop somewhere to buy a Chianti.”
Kevin sighed. “Man, as long as you don’t tell Steven. He was forgiving of Meg’s unscheduled stop. With yours, he won’t be.”
Minutes later, we rolled into a parking lot full of rundown shops and flickering neon signs, all too out of place in the harsh light of day.
“Okay,” I muttered. “Interesting area.”
Kevin laughed. “At noon, this is probably the safest place in town. Nighttime is when shit gets real.”
For the first time in my life I shopped for a bottle of wine at a liquor store. The selection was slim, and it was Bell’Ago Chianti or nothing. According to Kevin, that was fine as Chiantis go. Being way more in touch with the real world, I was going to take his word.
He discreetly stopped me from handing over my black Amex card. “Not the place to flash that. I’ve got you,” he said quietly before handing the clerk cash.
On our way back to Belmont Manor, a rush of accomplishment hit me. My attempt at becoming Meg’s White Knight was, I felt, unfolding perfectly.
First, I vanquished the villain who caused the fair maiden distress, and then, with the Chianti in hand, I revealed the man beneath the armor—flawed, but sincere, and ready to win the maiden’s complete approval.
Turned out this whole courting thing wasn’t nearly as hard as people made it out to be. I could practically taste the victory.
This was mine to win.
When Kevin dropped me off, I thanked him for his advice and indulged a congenial grin. “So, I guess I’ll see you again when I become CEO.”
He mock-saluted me. “See you around. Good luck taming Meg.”
With the Chianti in hand, I made my way into the south wing, the bottle cool against my fingers as the iron-gate elevator creaked upward to the second floor.
As confident as I felt about how it was all going, I still had some questions.
Should I test the waters first and see if Meg was interested in pursuing this outside of work? Or should I grow a pair and just ask her out on a date?
What did I have to lose? Nothing. Because I couldn’t be the only one who felt these sparks ricocheting off the walls.
No guts, no glory.
I decided to take the plunge.
I slipped through my office and into the secret passage that led to Meg’s. When I reached her door, it was shut tight.
Curious, but no big deal.
When I knocked, her “yes” was barely audible but enough for me to enter with the bottle of Chianti and a wide smile.
“Hey! I’ve got some good news and then even better news,” I said, my good spirits matching my tone. But, what do you know, my grand entrance was met with Meg sitting at her desk, her posture stiff and formal, a stark contrast to her usual nonchalant vibe.
Shoes on, no less.
Her gaze lifted and met mine across the room, not a flicker of warmth in her eyes or a smile gracing her lips.
“Hey,” she said, her voice sliding like ice down my chest.
Something was seriously wrong. As in, I could practically feel the hostility simmering in the air. Which was a dramatic diversion from the usual chemistry zapping the air molecules when Meg and I were together in a room.
“My mom told me the cops shut down GenZ Za a little while ago,” she added before I could say a thing, her words clipped. “I assume you were behind that. So…thanks.”
Maybe it was her voice, which always had a rich velvet lilt to it, now sounding flat, or maybe it was the cold detachment in her eyes as if she could barely tolerate my presence there.
Something had shifted between us, and I had no idea what the hell it was.
Suddenly, it felt awkward standing there holding a bottle of wine. This didn’t look like a woman who was filled with restless anticipation to guzzle down wine with a potential date.
“You’re welcome,” I said, straining to sound upbeat. “You’ll also be happy to know the video was killed. It simply doesn’t exist anymore, so that’s one less thing to worry about.”
I waited for her to react. Maybe a breath of relief, some acknowledgment that this nightmare was over.
But if she didn’t just nod, almost dismissively. “You really went out of your way to fix that. I appreciate it.”
“I said I would do it,” I continued, like nothing had changed. At least not at my end. “Can’t take all the credit, though. Kevin helped, too.”
She barely glanced at me. “I’ll be sure to thank him later when he drives me home,” she mumbled, her eyes drifting back to her laptop screen.
I raised the bottle of wine, its deep red liquid catching the light, my last card left to play. “I thought we might celebrate,” I said, my voice tinged with hope. “With a little Chianti over lunch.”
“I have a lot of work to do,” she replied. “I’ll be eating at my desk. Without any wine.”
My bafflement continued uninterrupted. “Oh… I thought we were having lunch together, Meg.”
“No, we’re not, Byron. Just let Nelson know when you want your food warmed up.”
There was a sense of finality in her voice that made my heart speed up for all the wrong reasons. This was not how this was supposed to go.
To say I wasn’t prepared for any of this would be a gross understatement.
Which begged the question. Since when had I allowed myself to be so completely at the mercy of someone else’s approval? At a guess, that would be the first time I laid eyes on Meg Belfiore.
A little anger shaved my throat, and I pinched the bridge of my nose with my free hand. “You’ll excuse me for being somewhat confused here.”
She bristled. “And why is that?”
“What happened between this morning and now?”
“Well, that was then, and this is now?” she said, a heavy layer of sarcasm coating her words.
“Lawyer double-talk, how original,” I grumbled.
She shrugged, her lips in a thin, disparaging line. “Byron, if you have a point, please make it. I have a lot of work to do.”
I was reduced to pleading. “Obviously, something happened. Why not just tell me to my face what the problem is?”
All I received was a petulant pout, her eyes now brimming with a little fire. As if it was on the tip of her tongue to tell me the many wrongs of my ways.
But as quickly, she let out a sigh that reverberated into the underworld.
“I think we need to clear something up,” she said frostily. “I’m here to work, and as it is, I have a lot to do. We’re not all lucky enough to step into an important job because our last name is Belmont. Some of us actually have worked pretty hard to get where we are.”
The words hit me like a slap across the face. Old Me would never have stood for this kind of cheap shot. Nor take it from someone who was simply out for blood.
“Low blow,” I scoffed. “But hey, if the worst thing about me is getting this job because of my last name, I’ll take it.”
“I wouldn’t go as far as saying that’s the worst thing about you.”
This woman was now deliberately trying to get under my skin. But as infuriating as that was, lashing out was the last thing on my mind. The flash of anger inside me burned off like fog in the sun.
“Oh, and Byron...”
I looked up, eager to hear her say it was all a misunderstanding…or even a joke. But no, that was not to be.
Instead, she pushed a book across her desk toward me. “This is for you.”
I donned a grateful smile. Until my eyes landed on the book:
CONTRACT LAW FOR TOTAL DUMMIES
“Since I’m here to help you with contracts, please study this cover to cover,” she continued. “Everything you need to know about contract law, you’ll find in this book. If you have questions, email me.”
A small part of me half expected this to be a joke. “Contract Law for Total Dummies?” I asked without an ounce of sincerity.
Meg lifted a brow. “Is that a question?”
“You want me to study this book.”
“Are we speaking two different languages here? Which part of study this book cover to cover, was confusing?”
Meg was trying to sound tough, but her voice cracked, making the whole situation even more baffling. I tapped the bright blue book with my fingers before scraping it up. “So, this is not a joke.”
“Byron, do you see me laughing?”
The unwavering glare she threw my way made it crystal clear that she was not.
“No, I guess not, Meg.”
There was no finding out in a hurry just what had reserved me a spot in the doghouse while I ventured out defending her honor in the big bad world.
“Just read the damn book,” she said with a finality that would have been sexy if she wasn’t so goddamn serious.
“Sure, I’ll read it… And if you ever decide to tell me what the problem is, you know where to find me,” I said, keeping my voice as steady as a wave of defeat swallowed me up. “That is, of course, assuming there is a problem, and it’s not just you...deciding to make one up.”
Her eyes met mine in an unguarded moment, hurt scrawled in them, hurt that I didn’t understand because none of this made sense. Just as quickly, she looked away and continued working. I took it as my cue to leave. Which I did.
I closed the office door softly behind me and stood in the secret passage, clutching the bottle of Chianti in one hand and Contract Law for Total Dummies in the other.
One thing was undeniable. I despised the helpless feeling that had taken root inside me.
Sure, I’d faced my fair share of disappointment in life, but nothing like this. It was like an infection creeping through me, zeroing in on every vulnerable spot, leaving me exposed and vulnerable against this kind of mindfuckery.
I set the wine on the kitchen counter, next to the La Marzocco where Meg couldn’t miss it. As a reminder that I had only good intentions and that whatever it was that had her so vexed could be sorted out if only she’d let me in on what was really going on.
As if the last twenty minutes hadn't already been a masterpiece of frustration, Nelson was waiting for me in my office, the picture of pissed off, looking ready to tear me a new one.
“Not you too,” I groaned, flinging the book onto my desk, despair seeping into my voice. “What did I do now?”
“You tell me, Byron,” Nelson said gruffly. “Not even the second day of her working here and you’ve upset Meg. It’s not as if we didn’t discuss just yesterday the importance of treating her with the utmost care.”
My jaw went slack.
This all had to be a prank to test me. Unless Nelson had more information than I had.
“Look, if you can explain what the hell I did to piss her off, I’m all ears. I left this morning ready to defend her honor, and I came back to ice and hellfire.”
Nelson leveled me with a look. “Well, something happened, and whatever it was, it’s got her very unhappy. And I’d say most of that anger is pointed squarely at you.”
“Oh, I think I got that, thanks for clarifying,” I said, sinking into my chair behind the desk. “The real mystery is why. In the meantime, I have work to do, so if someone can bring me a coffee, that would be wonderful because I don’t know how that new machine in our kitchen works, and heaven help me if I asked Miss Belfiore to give me a demonstration.”
Nelson’s features relaxed in an almost-smile. “You really don’t know why she’s angry, do you?”
“Not a damn clue. And it’s infuriating.”
“Would you like me to speak to her?”
“Please don’t. The last thing I need is for her to think I run to you to handle my problems. I’ll figure it out.”
“But perhaps,” Nelson added gently, “and this is only perhaps, she has come to the conclusion that being anything more to you than a work colleague could only lead to disappointment and heartache. Judging from the history of relationships in this house the last few months.”
As damning as his words were to hear, the undercurrent was encouraging. “So, what you’re suggesting is I show her I’m a changed man instead of just telling her.”
Nelson clasped his hands together. “Exactly, there you have it. I’ll have someone bring you a coffee. And please let me know when you want your lasagna for lunch.”
My head snapped up. “So, I’m still getting the lasagna? But for all I know, it’s laced with arsenic. Does lunch include the tiramisu, or am I being deprived of that along with an explanation of whatever unforgivable sin I’ve committed?”
This time, Nelson laughed. “From what I know of Meg, she wouldn’t settle for something as subtle as arsenic. But that’s just my take.”
I couldn’t help but grin at the thought. “You’re right. I think she’d go for a more drastic method because Meg would want to watch the life drain from my eyes herself.”