Sinner
I worked from home on Friday. I couldn’t face the office.
And it made it easier to block Rowan. After I left Anastasia’s hospital room on Thursday, I needed time to think, plan, and make decisions.
One thing I did was contact Carla. I instructed her to go ahead with the written warning for Rowan.
In it, the wording would be that his standing at the company was on rocky ground, and any further problems with him or his work would result in termination.
I knew he wouldn’t be able to maintain things for long.
Rowan had never had staying power. Carla was relieved and said she’d do it on Friday.
I knew my brother would come rushing into my office, indignant and demanding that I couldn’t fire him because he was my brother.
The same old arguments he refused to drop.
Rowan was delusional and still believed I’d give him a top position, a huge salary, and name him my successor.
I knew it because after the confrontation in the garage, he kept texting and calling me.
I ignored him. Thursday night, he called every thirty minutes until I blocked him for the night.
Then, yesterday, his calls increased after Carla met with him.
He left messages demanding that I tell him where I was and to see him.
He told me how I couldn’t let some subordinate write him up.
Rowan demanded I fire Carla. I listened to his voicemails and read his texts, but I didn’t respond.
Then, at eight o’clock last night, he showed up at my home.
I owned an upscale penthouse apartment on the top floor of a twenty-story downtown building.
It had two bedrooms, two bathrooms, a living room, a kitchen, a laundry room, a dining room, and an office.
It had views of Nashville and access to a rooftop private outdoor space.
I shared that floor with three other penthouse residents.
Rowan didn’t have a key to my place. I knew better than to do that.
But he’d always been on the approved list with the downstairs doorman to be allowed up.
When I heard pounding on my door, I knew who it was.
If it had been anyone not on the approved list, I would’ve gotten a call.
I was ready to put this shit to bed. I opened my door and stood there, blocking the entrance, staring at him.
Rowan appeared disheveled in his clothing and his hair. There was a wild anger burning in his eyes. As soon as he saw me, he started.
“We need to talk,” he snapped.
He tried to push past me, but I held my ground. “You should’ve called first, but since you’re here, you can come in. You’re right. We do need to talk, and you need to listen,” I growled before easing back to give him room to squeeze inside.
Rowan made a beeline for the living room. He dropped down on my sofa. His gaze ran around the room, cataloging my space and possessions. It was something he did every time he was here, even though things rarely changed. I didn’t change or add things just because I could.
“Why haven’t you been answering my calls or texts? I can’t believe you didn’t fire that bitch Carla for writing me up. Tell me you’re doing it on Monday. I want to be there when she packs her stuff and is escorted out,” Rowan said the last bit gleefully.
I retook my seat and said nothing until he ran out of steam.
“First of all, don’t call Carla a bitch.
She is doing her job. You should’ve been written up long ago.
The only reason you weren’t was that you’re my brother.
I told you, Ro. The days of skating on nepotism are over.
She’s not being fired. And you and I both know you’ll be the one exiting soon.
You can’t meet all the requirements to remain an employee.
We both know that. You’ve never stuck to something faithfully for longer than a month.
You do it long enough to fool people into believing you’re serious or changed. I love you, Rowan, but I’m not blind.”
He gave me an astonished expression. “Y-you can’t mean that. I’m your brother. And this is your company. Even if what you say is true, which it’s not, but even if it is, I shouldn’t have to do what everyone else does. I get you’re playing the hardass, Reign, but I know you don’t mean it.”
“You’re wrong. I do mean it, every damn word. My assets will go to my wife and kids,” I countered.
He sat forward. “You expect me to believe you have some woman stashed away that you’ve been seeing and you’re getting serious, as in marrying her?”
“Why is that so hard to believe? Yes, there is someone I want to be mine for good.”
He sat there contemplating it for several seconds before he responded.
“Fine, it doesn’t matter. She and any kids you might have can have a cut of the company and all the assets. But she has to be told that I’m your brother. The bulk goes to me. I’m blood.”
“Do you hear yourself? Christ, Ro, you’re laying claim to what’s mine ahead of my wife and children! That’s not the way it works. You’re young. You can create your own success. Grow your own wealth and more. It’ll mean more if you do that rather than be handed it.”
He opened his mouth to argue, but I kept speaking.
“I screwed up by continuing what Dad and Mom started. They made you believe you’re entitled to anything because of your connections.
I continued it because I felt bad about you losing them so young.
I know I helped create you. I’m here to help you mold yourself to become a better man who makes his own future, not expects others to hand it to him, or to bail you out of every mess you get into. ”
“Reign, you can’t!” He shouted as he bound to his feet.
“I can, and I am. Get your resume in order. Start interviewing. You’re on borrowed time at Caldwell Catastrophes. I’m not abandoning you, just not propping you up. I love you, Rowan.”
He had paced, argued, shouted, and even threatened that I’d regret it if I carried through with what I proposed. In the end, I stuck to my guns, and he stormed out of my place, swearing and telling me I’d change my mind.
I was exhausted after that, but sleep eluded me. When I wasn’t thinking of him, I replayed what happened with Anastasia and Sam. The recording I had burned to be revealed. But what if she heard it and still chose him?
That possibility kept nagging at me most of today until I broke.
I knew I had to bite the bullet and talk to her.
Deep down, I knew I was headed to this conclusion yesterday.
In anticipation, I’d called Iker. Not only did I consider him a friend, but he also owned a security company.
He had private investigators and hackers on his payroll in addition to actual IT personnel and bodyguards.
After a few minutes of small talk, I told him what I needed. He was cool and didn’t press why, though I knew that was coming. Within two hours, he got back to me with the information: Anastasia’s home address.
I knew it might come off as stalkerish to show up at her home, but a part of me was afraid that if I called and asked to visit, she might say no.
Of course, if she answered the door and told me to leave, I wouldn’t push it.
Jesus! I was talking myself in circles and mixing shit up so much that I felt as if I was losing my mind.
I trimmed my beard, showered, and dressed with care. On my way to her place, I stopped to pick up something I thought she’d like more than that bouquet Sam brought to her.
It was barely after seven in the evening when I pulled up to her address.
It was an end unit in a row of a dozen townhomes.
Each had a postage-stamp-sized front yard and a two-car garage.
The garage was on the bottom level, and then stairs led to the front door.
There were two levels above the garage. The driveway was empty.
I parked on the street in front of her house.
Climbing out with my gift, I scanned the neighborhood.
It was a nice one with well-kept homes and yards.
There were kids out playing still since the sun hadn’t set.
I walked up to the door and pressed the doorbell.
I waited. If it were only her in there, it would take a while to get to the door. Shit, what if she was resting?
This thought made me pull out my phone. I began tapping out a message. Maybe she went home to stay with family until she was better. Way to go, Reign, I chided myself.
The lock sounded a second before I hit send on my text. Anastasia’s shocked expression greeted me. I launched into my hastily modified speech.
“Before you slam the door and call the police, let me explain. I’m not a weirdo stalker, though I’m behaving like one, I admit.
I didn’t think this all the way through until I got here.
My excuse, though it’s not a good one, is that I’ve been worried about you and I can’t think straight.
If you want me to leave, I will. Only, please accept this because if I take it home with me, it’ll die. I have a black thumb,” I rattled.
As I paused to take a breath or two, Anastasia replied.
“I’ve got to say, I never expected you to show up here, Reign. It is kinda scary that you know where I live. Although it’s sweet that you’re concerned, don’t you think this behavior is a little extreme? I’m your chiropractor, Reign, nothing more.”
“If you’re comfortable with me here, I’d like to talk to you about how I’m acting. If you prefer a public place or to have someone here, that’s fine. All I request is that it not be Sam.”
“Why not, Sam?” Anastasia asked.
“The conversation isn’t something I believe he should hear,” was all I said back.
As she considered it, I took the initiative.
“Here, please take the plant. It’s a miracle it survived the car ride over. If I breathe on it for five more seconds, it’ll give up all life.”
Anastasia giggled, then took the flowering houseplant from me.
“It’s gorgeous. You remembered,” she hummed.