CHAPTER FIFTY
NATHAN
I TRIED TO lose myself at work, but it was useless.
After a week of slipping, I stepped away before I did real damage.
There was no point in pretending I was anything resembling useful.
Ever since Elise left, I’d been a damn wreck, barely holding it together, much less capable of being the leader my company needed.
Before Elise, my days consisted of workouts, black coffee, and working late.
Then Elise came into my life like a tornado of sunshine and flowers and suddenly my days consisted of lazy mornings in bed with the curtains drawn, walks along the Santa Monica Pier, and short work days.
But now she was gone and everything that brought me happiness before no longer had the same effect.
The house was silent except for the low hum of the refrigerator.
The curtains stayed drawn, keeping the world outside where it belonged.
Half-empty takeout containers littered the kitchen counter, a graveyard of meals I barely touched.
The trash overflowed. The sink was full.
My once-pristine home, a reflection of my control, now mirrored the chaos in my mind.
I knew people were trying to reach me. My phone never stopped buzzing, but I ignored it. Every call that wasn’t Elise wasn’t one I wanted to answer.
I was drowning, and I didn’t care enough to fight it.
I hadn’t meant to end up at the bar. But after hours of staring at my ceiling, feeling like my skin didn’t fit right, I needed to get out. Needed noise and people. Something to fill the void.
A dark corner. A brandy in hand. That was all I wanted. No expectations. No responsibilities. Just the burn of alcohol and the hope that for a few hours, I wouldn’t feel like a shell of myself.
But then Bryce fucking Decker showed up.
I terminated his contract months ago, but somehow, he was still lingering like a bad memory. He must’ve seen me sitting alone because he wasted no time sliding into the stool beside me like we were old friends catching up, a cocky smirk on his face.
“Well, well. If it isn’t Nathan Edge, king of the industry, slumming it with the rest of us.”
I didn’t bother looking at him. “Not in the mood, Decker.”
“Come on, Edge. No need to be a dick. Just making conversation. You’ve been off the grid lately. Word is, your company’s running itself into the ground without you.”
I took a slow sip of my drink. “Walk away.”
“Guess that’s what happens when you let a woman fuck with your head. What was her name again? Elise?” He gave a fake snap of his fingers. “Right. Elise Alexandre. Your little assistant turned girlfriend.”
My jaw tightened, but I didn’t respond.
Bryce chuckled. “Everyone’s talking about it, you know. First, she’s running your schedule, getting your coffee, playing the good little assistant. Next thing we know, she’s warming your bed. Bet she had to put in a lot of overtime for that promotion.”
The air in my lungs turned to fire. My grip on the glass tightened. “Last chance,” I warned, voice dangerously calm as I stared him down. “Walk. Away.”
Bryce leaned in, eyes glinting with something smug and nasty. “Relax, Edge. No shame in upgrading from business to pleasure. But damn, man, you let her go? A woman that hot? I mean, shit, maybe I should take a shot. She’s single now, right? And from what I hear, she—”
The punch landed before he could finish his sentence.
Bryce’s head snapped back, his glass shattering against the counter.
He barely had time to react before I hit him again, harder this time.
Bryce staggered back, but I followed, grabbed him by the collar and drove my fist into his face until his nose crunched and blood smeared across my knuckles.
I barely heard the shouts around me. The scraping of chairs. The bartender yelling for someone to break it up.
Then a pair of strong arms wrapped around me, yanking me off him.
“That’s enough, boss.”
Ryan’s voice cut through the haze, sharp and steady.
I struggled against him, chest heaving, eyes still locked on Bryce, who was groaning on the floor, blood dripping from his nose.
I clenched my fists, the adrenaline still pulsing, but the moment was already slipping. The reality of what I’d just done started settling in.
People were staring and whispering.
Ryan dragged me outside and I let him. By the time we got back to my house, I felt the weight of it all. The fight. The loss. The past weeks of nothingness.
Ryan threw the car keys on the entry table and it was the only sound breaking the thick silence between us. I stood in the center of my disaster of a living room, the air stale with neglect.
I’d taken what my father built and made it mine. Controlled every aspect of my life with discipline and precision. And now?
I was one broken piece of furniture away from looking like a fucking cautionary tale.
Ryan exhaled through his nose, slow and measured, like he was holding something back. He ran a hand through his short-cropped hair, then leveled me with a look so steady, so cutting, it nearly split me in two.
“Are you done yet?”
I barely had the energy to glare. “If you’re about to lecture me, don’t.”
Ryan let out a humorless chuckle. “Oh, I’m way past that.
You wanna drink yourself into oblivion? Fine.
You wanna turn your house into a landfill?
Go ahead. But this?” He gestured to my busted knuckles, the dried blood on my sleeve.
“Starting bar fights like some reckless asshole? That’s not you. That’s not the man I work for.”
I scoffed, turning away, but he wasn’t finished.
“Actually, maybe that’s the problem,” he mused, voice quieter now, but no less sharp.
“Because the man I work for? The Nathan Edge I know? He fights for what he wants. He doesn’t shut the world out and let some lowlife asshole get the best of him.
And he sure as hell doesn’t sit here wallowing while the best damn thing that ever happened to him gets away. ”
A muscle ticked in my jaw. “Ryan—”
“No. You’re gonna hear this,” he interrupted, stepping closer, voice dropping to something lethal. “Because I’m risking my damn job saying it.”
I met his stare, bracing myself.
“She loved you, man.” His voice wasn’t harsh now.
It was raw. “Hell, maybe she still does. But she walked away because you gave her no reason to stay.” Ryan scoffed, shaking his head.
“I’ve seen men lose good women for not realizing what they had before it was too late. Are you going to be one of them?”
He didn’t wait for a response. Didn’t give me the chance to argue, to lash out, or to pretend like what he said hadn’t just ripped me open.
He just turned and walked away, his footsteps echoing through the empty house before the elevator dinged closed behind him.
The silence that followed was deafening. My knuckles throbbed, the raw skin split open from the force of my punches. But that pain was nothing compared to the hollow ache in my chest.
Ryan was right.
And I fucking hated him for it.
I sank onto the couch, elbows on my knees, and my head in my hands. The weight of everything pressed down on me. The empty house, the silence, the mess I’d made of myself, of me and Elise.
I pushed myself to climb the stairs, the movement acquiring much more effort than it should. My head throbbed with an incessant pounding, like there was a jackhammer embedded inside my brain.
I stumbled into my bedroom for the first time in weeks. I hadn’t been able to muster enough strength to come before. Everywhere in the house was a memory of Elise, but none as strong as the bedroom.
Here her laughter bounced off the walls. Here her scent lingered on the sheets. Here was where I saw her face as if she was still here with me right where she belonged.
“Just one.” Elise tried again as she sat behind me on her knees. Her hands rubbed my bare shoulders, massaging the aches and knots after a stressful day at work.
“No.” I closed my eyes as she applied a more subtle pressure. We were both freshly showered and dressed for bed. Elise wore a lace teddy that left very little to the imagination, which inspired thoughts of doing anything but sleeping.
The two of us just finished watching the first episode of a series where the male lead had a snake tattoo on his back and ever since, Elise has been trying to encourage me to get one.
I had nothing against tattoos. I just never wanted anything bad enough to want it permanently etched onto my skin.
“Come on. Do you know how much hotter you’d be if you got a tattoo?”
“Not happening, Cupcake.” I turned my head so I could see her face. She was close enough that if I leaned in just an inch I’d be able to brush my lips against hers.
“Fine,” Elise dropped her hands from my shoulders. “I’ll just ask Rhett to send me a picture of his. I think I still have his num-ahh!”
Elise didn’t get a chance to finish her statement before I rolled over on her and pushed her onto her back.
“You were saying?”
“Nothing.” Elise pressed her lips together, holding back her laughter.
My eyes narrowed. “You still have his number?”
She gave me an innocent look. “I mean…maybe. Somewhere in my phone. I haven’t thought about it since that horrible date Kelsey set me up on.”
I didn’t hesitate. I shifted my weight, pinning her gently beneath me. “Delete it.”
Her brows rose, amused. “Seriously?”
I dipped my head, letting my lips graze hers without giving in to the kiss. “Dead serious.” My hand slid down the side of her thigh, slowly.
“Hmm. Someone is still grumpy. I guess my massage didn’t work after all. You're still tense.”
“There’s another way to relieve my tension, Cupcake.” I told her as I reached down and hitched her legs around my waist
“Oh, is that so? I’m all for suggestions.” Elise replied as she wrapped her arms around my neck.
I dove for her lips, groaning at the first taste of mangoes and mint and kissed her until my name was the only one on her mind and the one she screamed at the top of her lungs.
The memory was so strong I could almost feel Elise in my arms. Feel her silky soft skin against my hard muscles as she came down from her release and cuddled into me.
Yet when I opened my eyes, I’m met with nothing but an empty, cold bed and deafening silence and that was when I knew I had to get Elise back.
No matter how long it took.