Chapter 7 Sullivan #2
“The coffee girl?” Cara’s face contorts before quickly smoothing out as I arch a brow at her. “No. It’s the CEO of Fabienne. He says it’s a matter of life or death.”
“I see.” My lips twitch. Life or death for him, maybe.
For me it’s simply another business deal that I have the upper hand in.
But it’s pleasing to know that he’s now aware of Beaufort Diamonds’ plans to buy his little company.
It’s just a shame for him that he’s too late to do a thing about it.
If you play with the sharks, you should prepare to get bitten.
“Tell him I’ll call him back.” I tilt my head in consideration. “… eventually.”
Cara smirks. “Very well, Mr. Beaufort.”
“Let’s get to it, shall we?” I say as I return to the table and take a seat with the other men.
“Problem?” my father asks.
“No. Just someone calling for me. I’ll call them back.”
I’ll fill my father in on acquiring Fabienne once the deal is finalized.
Ever since Halliday arrived he’s been a new man.
And now that she’s pregnant and they’re getting married, the lightness in him is hard to miss.
He deserves time to enjoy it and not be burdened with business that’s already being taken care of.
I lean back in my seat and listen as a discussion about my mother’s lover whom she was having an affair with behind my father’s back before she died builds momentum.
The guy, Neil, is back in the city for reasons unknown.
The timing of it coincided with when Sinclair’s car was trashed.
Coincidence? Maybe. But my father won’t take any chances.
“—she seems to be taking it well,” my father says to Denver, talking about Sinclair and his assignment as her bodyguard.
I smirk internally at the taut expression on Denver’s face. He’s never gotten along with my sister. She rolls her eyes whenever she has to be in the same room as him.
“She giving you hell?” I ask.
Denver pauses like he’s considering how to deliver a tactful response. His huge shoulders stiffen in his black suit jacket. “She’s—”
“That’s a yes,” I say as he holds my eyes. “You know my sister. The harder she is on you, the closer you’re getting to her.”
If the guy wasn’t ex special forces, I might be inclined to feel sorry for him.
But if anyone can withstand my sister’s defiant behavior when she’s told to do something she doesn’t want to, then it’s Denver.
Still, I reckon we’ll owe the guy a vacation and a big fat bonus once Sinclair’s done with him.
Jenson pipes up with something I don’t catch as my phone vibrates in my pocket.
“Just look after her,” I toss out, frowning at the unknown number on the screen. I hit end call and watch the screen for a few seconds, but no voicemail notification pops up.
The men are chuckling as I tune back in to my father talking about his and Halliday’s wedding in Cape Town—and how the whole team’s invited. Denver offers to arrange security through his contacts, and my father stands, announcing he needs to get back to Halliday and Molly.
“And I’ve got a call to make,” I say, rising from my chair as I fire off a quick text to Jones to let him know to be ready to go on the call with me in case Fabienne’s CEO tries anything.
I clap my uncle on the shoulder, and he nods at me as I pass him and follow my father out of the room.
“I’ll come by as soon as I’m done here and collect Molly,” I tell him.
“It’s fine, Son. We’ll drop her home later. We can keep her for the night if you like? You’ve been working hard. Maybe you need a night to yourself?”
I shake my head. “Thanks, but that’s not necessary.”
My father studies me, waiting to see if I’ll say anything else.
It’s not a Thursday. Not the one night of the week that he or Sinclair have always looked after Molly for me ever since she came into our lives.
The one night of the week where I leave my parental responsibilities outside the door of my suite at The Lanceford hotel, before fucking away all thoughts of lost family members, cardboard boxes found after midnight, and ex fiancées.
Thursday nights I tuck it all away and let loose. I’ve lost count of the women who’ve aided in the soul numbing process that I need to function. Lost count of the number of condoms I’ve come inside, then tossed out with the trash, hoping it’ll help.
And it does… for a while. Because after each release, I’m granted another six nights of just about keeping my head together.
For Molly.
My father has always known where I go those nights.
He gets it. My sister doesn’t. She despises any mention of The Lanceford.
To her, love is the one thing that can keep us going after what happened.
The love of family. The love of a new partner.
Hence her insistence of hiring Halliday to be my father’s dating coach.
But she’ll have to accept that my love for Molly is all I need. Because I hate every thought of romantic love. Romantic love tells you they can’t cope with the daughter who’s appeared in your life. Romantic love leaves at sunrise. Romantic love is conditional.
A father’s love isn’t.
I walk my father to the elevator, saying goodbye, then return to my office to call Fabienne.
“Cara?” I ask, doubling back as an after-thought and stopping at the front reception desk. She should work from Arabella’s office next to mine while she’s filling in. But since one of the front desk staff has been sick, she’s been positioned here to assist.
“Yes, Mr. Beaufort.”
She bats her lashes at me in a way that tells me she’d have no problems performing any task I ask of her while she’s working here.
It hasn’t escaped my notice that her shirt is getting unbuttoned more each day.
Slowly revealing a glimpse of perfectly smooth, tanned skin, and the hint of a pert cleavage and athletic figure.
Exactly the type I go for. Elegant, slender, polished.
“Did you arrange the delivery like I asked?”
“Yes, sir.” She taps something into her computer and reads the screen. “Delivery was made at six this morning.”
“Six?” I echo. A burst of annoyance flares inside me, and I purse my lips. “Very well.”
“Anything else I can do for you, Mr. Beaufort?” Cara asks.
“No,” I bark. “Just make sure you tell me the moment Miss Miller calls, please,” I say, striding away.