Chapter 31
Dorian
Islide the Hargrove portfolio across the mahogany table toward my uncle Richard. With a proud smile, he catches it with the ease of a man used to great things falling into his lap.
But I note how proud of me. Practically the same as my father, who’s sitting next to him.
The three of us have gathered in the small meeting room to go over one of the biggest contracts we’ve landed this year. Another multimillion-dollar, curated by yours truly.
Uncle Richard is here because I thought he’d be best suited to handle the deal once it’s been signed off. The clients will be moving their business to London, which is perfect since Richard runs our equity division there.
He flew over yesterday while I was making our way back from L.A. We’ll be meeting the clients later this evening. This meeting is just a run through of the specifics.
“I don’t know how you do it,” Richard states, looking me over. “I hope you know how impressed I am with you.”
“Thank you.” I dip my head.
“No. Thank you. I’m grateful you’ll be sending such an stupendous contract to London.”
“I know it will be in good hands.”
He smiles back at me. “Again, I’m impressed.” He looks at my father and the two exchange a silent look of appreciation.
It’s so strange that Richard can be so human yet Parker is the devil incarnate. Based on temperament, no one would ever think Parker is his son. Every time I see Richard and his wife, Hazel, I always wonder if Parker was adopted or switched at birth.
Sadly, he wasn’t. He’s the spitting image of Richard and has his mother’s eyes. I’ve literally never seen anyone who looked more like their parents than him.
“Why don’t you tell us more about the Hargroves,” Dad says with an easy grin.
"Sure, initially they came to us in January," I say, settling back in my chair. "Genevieve Hargrove contacted me directly, but she wasn’t sure if we were the best fit for her.”
It wasn’t that she was unsure. She had certain expectations she wanted to be met. They seemed to have been met when I am married Elodie. Genevieve called me yesterday and explained how impressed she was with my marriage to my long-lost love.
What she didn’t say was that she hadn’t signed with us before because of me—my attitude specifically. Mainly because she’s a media mogul with a public presence, and couldn’t be associated with a man who always causing a stir for his rudeness and lately the scandal with Grace.
But I redeemed myself. Or rather Elodie redeemed me.
I continue laying out the details but my mind drifts back to my wife. She’s never exactly left my mind. She’s always there, floating between my thoughts, haunting me like a ghost.
I can’t believe so much time has passed since I’ve seen her. Secretly I hoped the time apart would give me clarity. All it did was make me want her even more.
But my actions have been a juxtaposition to my desires.
I didn’t call her or message when I could have. Should have.
I’ve had several instances when I nearly did. They almost surpass the times where I wanted to see her.
Every time when I thought I could fit in a quick visit I realized I actually couldn’t because time was against me. We’ve had several occasions where I was only in New York for the day for back-to-back meetings, then on my way by night fall.
Of course that didn’t excuse me from calling her. But, every time I almost dialed her number, I stopped myself either because I didn’t know what to say or I was conflicted, torn between wanting to preserve my original terms and conditions, and wanting her.
It became too much. When faced with anything that’s too much for me, I default to nothingness. In the business world it makes me look crude and ruthless. In my personal life it makes me look like a straight up asshole.
I don’t normally care one way or the other, but of course that’s also another exception with Elodie.
The truth is I still don’t know what to do, still don’t know what’s best for both of us.
It also doesn’t help that Salvatore hasn’t found anything more on our mole since the wedding. Not only is it worrying that a powerful mafia boss, with endless resources from the criminal underground, can’t help me, but I keep thinking this person is watching Elodie too.
I didn’t want to drag her into this. She doesn’t even know about it. I never told her on purpose.
Thankfully, nothing scandalous has happened since the Grace scandal. But this person needs to be rooted out. I feel that they’re just lying in wait for one of us to slip up, then they’ll make their move.
Then we’ll have to make our move. At the moment this person has their movements cloaked so efficiently, it seems Salvatore won’t be able to track them until they actually do something.
Still, he remains confident. I have to trust that.
"The Hargrove’s have a portfolio valued at two hundred and thirty million spread across commercial real estate, tech acquisitions, and media subsidiaries,” I explain, trying to sound like I was focused the whole time I was talking.
“Not only does Genevieve want a restructure. She wants everything we can offer."
Richard straightens. "Everything?"
"Every single service. I also thought this would be perfect to coincide with Dad’s transfer to London next year. This one contract could keep us in business for years to come.”
Dad nods. “This changes our profit forecast immensely.”
"I want to start with a full equity restructure on the real estate and tech holdings. They’re high priority." I lean forward, elbows on the table. "We can work on everything else after."
“Sounds good to me,” Richard agrees.
We continue with a quick review of the company financials and regulatory filings, then we wrap things up, ready to meet Geneive Hargrove within the next hour.
"Dorian," Dad says, lifting his chin toward me. "Stay a moment."
“Sure.” I close the folder.
“See you both in the meeting,” Richard says, then heads out, leaving us alone.
I stare at my father, wondering what he’s going to say. We’ve been okay all these weeks. I hope that continues.
“You’re doing some really good work here,” he begins, much to my surprise. It’s been a while since he paid me that sort of compliment, even though I always deliver.
“You know I do my best.”
“Yes, but this is way above board. Business with the Hargroves will more doors for us in different industries.”
“Knox and I have been talking about expansion. He’s currently working on real estate, while I guess I did this.”
He nods. “And you handed it to England. A wise move, though I would have been tempted to keep it here.”
I can see why he thought that. But the best contracts are always handled here, because we’re here. Even though we operate under one umbrella, each branch has their own recognition for different reasons. I want a uniform of success across the board.
“England comes close to the work we do here. I want them on par with us.”
He raises his brows, and he seems at a loss for words.
“It will be a good thing. I just know it,” I add.
“I trust you. You’ve done a complete three-sixty. I don’t even recognize you.”
Now it’s time for me to look surprised. “I haven’t exactly done anything differently.”
He smiles at that. “Yes, you have. You just haven’t realized it yet. Your approach is different. I like it.”
If he likes it, then I love it. “Thanks.”
“Things okay at home?”
He’s referring to Elodie.
What should I say about her? “Everything’s great.” It sounds like a lie, but it’s the best answer I have.
“Good. Keep up the good work.”
There’s a knock at the door.
“Come in,” Dad calls out.
The door opens and Elena pokes her head in. “Sorry to interrupt, but Elodie is here to see you, Dorian.”
I straighten instantly.
Elodie. Here?
How did she even know I was going to be here today?
It doesn’t matter. She’s here.
“Thanks I’ll be a minute.”
Elena leaves and I glance back at my father who surprisingly smiling at me.
“Go, we can catch up later.”
“Alright.”
I get up and head to my office.
The hallway feels longer than usual. Every step toward my office feels like a step toward something I haven’t prepared for.
My chest does something unfamiliar—a mix of nerves and anticipation.
I don’t usually get like this for anything.
This woman has me twisted again. And I haven’t even seen her yet.
Finally, I reach my office door. I pause for a beat, just long enough to gather my thoughts.
Then I open it. And there she is.
My wife stands by the window, her shoulders set, her back straight, her chin lifted just so. At the sound of me entering, she turns to face me.
For a moment, I get lost in how beautiful she is, then I swiftly thinking about how ruthlessly I owned her body.
The ache of need courses through me and just for a split second I wonder if I could get away with bending her over my desk, and losing myself in her.
But the muted expression on her face throws me out.
She looks exactly like she did on our wedding day, filled with fury, and edged with something colder. Emptiness.
And just like that day, I don’t have to wonder what’s wrong.
Me.
She’s pissed because I didn’t contact her.
“Lamb, how are you?” I try for pleasantries anyway.
Her face remains a stony mask. “I’m fine. I have something important I want to discuss.” The businesslike tone in her voice is unstable. Like she’s put up a wall between us and she’s speaking from somewhere behind it. She also sounds too rehearsed.
It’s the art of detachment. I recognize it better than most.
“What did you want to talk about?” I ask.
“I was just given a new opportunity at the school.”
I wait for her to elaborate, but she doesn’t.
“That’s great.” It would be, if that were really why she was here.
“We need to discuss the baby situation. When we’ll be planning. I need specifics.”
My brows lift. I really look at her now. “You want specifics?”
“Yes. I need to schedule it on the calendar so I can plan for my future. We need to pick a day when we’re actively trying.”