34. Duncan
DUNCAN
I drove to the gym instead of home after work.
My hands gripped the steering wheel until my knuckles ached, but the rage burning in my chest demanded more than a quiet apartment and a glass of scotch.
Bill's voice echoed in my head just as dismissive and final as he'd sounded on the call.
The way he'd spoken to me as if I were nobody.
As if four years of wondering where Ivy had gone, four years of questions that never got answered, meant nothing.
The gym was nearly empty at this hour. Good.
I didn't want witnesses to whatever was about to happen.
I changed into workout clothes with mechanical movements, my mind still reeling from that phone call.
Bill had cut me off before I could explain anything, before I could ask the questions that had been eating at me since Ivy walked back into my life.
I attacked the heavy bag with methodical fury.
Each punch landed with the sound of leather meeting flesh, but it wasn't enough.
Nothing was enough to quiet the storm in my head.
The way Ivy had looked at me in the office before she left—shattered, distant, like she'd already decided I was the enemy.
I'd spent the last hour replaying every conversation we'd had, searching for the moment I'd lost her again.
"Rough day?"
I turned to find Nick standing in the doorway, already dressed for a workout. His timing was impeccable and unwelcome. The last thing I needed was his particular brand of corporate wisdom.
"Not in the mood, Nick."
"Come on." He moved to the opposite side of the heavy bag, steadying it with his hands. "You look like you need to talk."
I threw another punch, harder this time. "I need to be left alone."
"That's not how this works." His voice carried the patronizing tone that had always grated on me. "You can't just shut everyone out when things get complicated."
"Complicated." I stopped hitting the bag and stared at him. "Is that what you call it?"
"Look, I came here to apologize." He held up his hands in a gesture of peace. "I may have pushed too hard earlier. About the transition, about moving up the timeline. I didn't realize how… invested you'd become."
The word hit me wrong. "Invested."
"In the assistant. Ivy." He said her name carefully, like he was testing the waters. "I can see she's got you tangled up."
The rage I'd been trying to work out through the bag found a new target. "What did you say?"
"I'm not judging." Nick's voice remained calm, reasonable. "We've all been there. A pretty face, a complicated situation. But you're better than this, Duncan. You're smarter than getting caught up in another scandal. She's so young…"
I stepped away from the bag, my fists still clenched. "You don't know what you're talking about."
"Don't I?" He moved closer, his expression shifting from apologetic to calculating. "You've been distracted for weeks. Missing meetings, making decisions based on emotion instead of logic. The board's starting to notice."
"The board's starting to notice what, exactly?"
"That you're compromised." He shrugged, as if the word meant nothing. "Look, I get it. She's young, she's attractive, she's got that wounded bird thing going on. But you're the CEO of a multimillion-dollar company. You can't afford to let personal feelings?—"
I moved before he could finish the sentence. My fist connected with his jaw in a sharp crack that echoed through the empty gym. Nick stumbled backward, his hand flying to his face.
"Jesus, Duncan!"
"Don't." I advanced on him, my voice low and dangerous. "Don't you dare talk about her like that."
Nick straightened, his eyes bright with something that might have been satisfaction. "There it is. The truth you've been hiding from yourself."
"The truth?"
"You're in love with her." He dabbed at his lip, checking for blood. "Have been for years, probably. That's why you can't focus. That's why you're making terrible decisions."
I grabbed him by the shirt and shoved him against the wall. "I said don't."
"Or what?" His voice remained steady despite the position he was in. "You'll hit me again? Prove my point about how unstable you've become?"
The calm in his tone, the way he seemed to be enjoying this, made my vision go red. I pulled back my fist, ready to wipe that smug expression off his face permanently.
"Go ahead," he said quietly. "Show me exactly how far you've fallen."
I released him instead, stepping back with disgust. "Get out."
"Duncan—"
"Get out of my sight before I do something we'll both regret."
He straightened his shirt, that calculating look never leaving his eyes. "I didn't mean to push so hard. But you needed to hear it."
"What I needed was for you to mind your own business."
"This is my business." His voice hardened. "The company is my business. And you're destroying it."
I stared at him, really seeing him for the first time in years. The careful way he'd been positioning himself, the meetings he'd been pushing, the timeline he'd been so eager to accelerate. "You set this up."
"What?"
"Meranda." The pieces clicked into place with sickening clarity. "She didn't decide to go after my company on her own. You encouraged her."
Nick's face went carefully blank. "That's a serious accusation."
"It's not an accusation. It's a fact." I stepped closer, my voice dropping to a whisper. "You planted the idea in her head. Made her think she could take my place."
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"The hell you don't." I watched his face, looking for any tell, any sign of guilt. "You knew exactly what buttons to push. You knew how to make her believe she deserved more than what we had."
"Duncan, you're being paranoid."
"Am I?" I grabbed my phone from the bench and started dialing. "Let's find out what the board thinks about your little power play."
"Wait." Nick's composure finally cracked. "You can't be serious."
"I'm calling an emergency meeting. Tonight." I kept dialing, my eyes never leaving his face. "I'm going to tell them exactly what kind of man they've been working with."
"You have no proof."
"I don't need proof. I need them to know that I won't tolerate anyone undermining my authority as CEO." I finished dialing and held the phone to my ear. "You're done, Nick."
He stared at me for a long moment, then turned and walked out without another word. I watched him go, feeling oddly empty despite the victory. The rage was still there, burning in my chest, but it had shifted focus. Nick was a symptom, not the disease.
The disease was the fear that I'd lost Ivy again, which was why I had dialed her number and not other board members, though I'd get to that soon enough.
I tried calling her number, but it rang endlessly before going to voicemail. I sent three texts, each one more desperate than the last. The silence stretched on, eating at me with each passing minute.
Finally, I gave up and got in my car without even showering.
The drive to Bill's house felt both endless and far too short.
My heart hammered against my ribs as I turned onto his street, my mind racing through every possible scenario.
What if she refused to see me? What if she'd already decided I was exactly the kind of man her father said I was?
I parked across the street and stared at the house where I'd spent so many evenings years ago, back when Bill considered me a friend. The lights were on in the living room. She was in there somewhere, probably convinced that I was planning to abandon her again.
I had to make her understand. I had to explain about the retirement plans, about why I'd been so careful not to promise her anything I couldn't deliver. But first, I had to get through that front door.
I walked up the porch steps and knocked. Footsteps approached from inside, and I held my breath.
The door opened—then slammed shut in my face after the briefest glimpse of Bill's angry glare.
I stood there for a moment, staring at the wood grain, then knocked again. This time, I wasn't leaving until I'd gotten a chance to talk to Ivy.