Chapter 22
Tristan
I stand in the elevator and turn up my nose.
What is that smell?
I got up and left early, trained with my personal trainer, and got dressed in the bathroom at the gym. I look around at my surroundings. This elevator stinks. What the fuck cleaning products are they using?
The doors open, and I stride out. “Morning,” I say to the girls at reception.
“Morning,” they all reply.
I can still smell it. Ugh, it’s horrendous. Must have permeated my nostrils.
It’s foul.
What the heck is it?
I walk into my office and begin to sniff around. Is it the carpet? I push the intercom. “Sammia, what is that godawful fucking smell?”
“What?”
“Can you smell something?”
“No.”
“I can smell something.”
“Maybe you wore too much aftershave.”
I roll my eyes. “Whatever. Can you make sure my car is here to pick me up right at nine, please? I need to be early for my meeting this morning.”
“Already booked, boss.”
“Thanks.” I walk into my bathroom and wash my hands. Maybe I touched something at the gym?
I take a seat at my desk and turn on my computer. I wince from the odor.
“Oh my God, this is intolerable,” I mutter. I push the intercom again. “Sammia, can you come here for a moment, please?”
She sighs. “Fine.”
I go back to my computer.
Moments later she walks in. “Yes?”
“What is that smell?”
She screws up her nose as she inhales. “Hmm ... I can smell something.”
“See. I told you.”
She sniffs ... and sniffs. She walks around and then leans in toward me. “It’s you.”
My eyes widen in horror, and I sniff the sleeve of my suit. “What?”
She leans in and sniffs again. “Smells like cat piss.”
“What?” I explode. I jump from my chair and tear off my jacket. I glance down, and I see a faint mark on my shoes—my four-thousand-dollar fucking shoes. “That fucking Muff Cat has pissed in my overnight bag!” I scream.
Sammia puts her hands over her mouth and bursts out laughing.
I kick off my shoes, tear off my socks, and take off my shirt and tie and throw them into a pile on the floor. “Burn these fucking things. All of them!” I yell. “I don’t have fucking time for this.” I march out of the office and down past reception.
“Hell yeah.” Mallory from reception giggles as she sees me shirtless. “Boom.”
Sammia laughs out loud behind me. “I’ll say,” she chimes in.
“Not funny!” I cry as I storm into Jameson’s office.
He’s just arrived and glances up from his desk. “What the fuck are you doing?” He frowns.
“Give me your clothes.”
“What?”
I hold my hand out. “That Muff Cat pissed on my clothes, and I have the most important meeting of the year. Give me your fucking suit.”
He bursts out laughing.
“I’m not joking,” I bark. “Give me your clothes and shoes. Right now.”
Sammia and Mallory are laughing hard at the door.
“Not fucking funny, you two,” I cry. “Sammia, call Claire and tell her the cat is going to hell. When I get ahold of that thing ... tick fucking tock.” I punch my fist hard.
The three of them burst out laughing again.
Jameson stands and begins to unbutton his shirt. “I thought Elliot and Christopher were coming in today. Take their suits.”
“They won’t be here until after ten. They have a breakfast meeting.”
“Sammia, can you find Jameson some clothes, please?” I stammer.
“Do I have to?” She sighs dreamily.
He hands over his shirt, and we suddenly become aware of the three reception girls standing at the door watching, and we both glance over.
Sammia gives us a goofy smile and shrugs. “Don’t mind us; this is the most exciting thing that’s happened in the office for like ... forever.”
I glance at Jameson, and he rolls his eyes. What must we look like, both shirtless and half-undressed in the office?
“Fucking perverts,” I huff. “Go watch some porn or something.”
“This is better.” Sammia sighs again.
“Jesus Christ,” Jameson mutters under his breath.
The girls all giggle and slowly return to their desks.
Jameson hands over his shirt and tie and suit and shoes and socks, and I change into them. Elliot comes in the door unexpectedly, and his face falls when he sees Jameson sitting at his desk in only his boxer shorts. “What the hell is going on?”
“Claire’s cat pissed on his clothes.” Jameson smirks. “He has a meeting. Can you go and buy me a new suit?”
Elliot’s brows rise in horror, and he looks to me.
“Don’t fucking say it,” I growl.
He bursts out laughing. “You fucking idiot.”
I storm out of the office as I do my tie. “Goodbye,” I call as I storm through the office. “This is not the morning I had in fucking mind.”
“Good luck!” the girls all call. “I hope you don’t run into any more cats out there.”
“Shut up,” I snap as I step into the elevator. “This isn’t fucking funny.”
It’s just around four o’clock when Sammia’s voice echoes through the intercom. “Tris, your mom is here.”
I hit send on my email ... great . “Send her in.” I knew this was coming. I stand and go to the door and open it. Her lovely face comes into view, and I smile. “Hello, Mom.”
“Hello, darling.” She smiles as she walks past me. She takes a seat at my desk, and I hit the intercom. “Mallory, can you bring my mother in some tea, please?”
“Of course.”
She smiles and stares at me.
“Yes?” I smirk.
“Claire’s lovely.”
“She is.” I rest my elbow on my desk and steeple my fingers up over my temple.
She stays silent.
“But ... ?” I ask.
She hesitates.
“Come on, Mother, you have come here for a reason today. What is it?”
“Tristan ...” She pauses. “Why do you think you like Claire?”
“I don’t like her, Mom. I love her.”
She inhales sharply. “Tris.” She stands and walks to the window and stares out over the city. “Ever since you were a child, you have had a very strong personality trait.”
I frown as I listen.
“And so far in business, it has served you well.”
I stay silent.
“But now I feel I must make you aware of it, because I fear it is affecting you personally.”
“What are you talking about, Mom?” I sigh, annoyed.
She turns to me. “Tristan, you like to fix things.”
I frown harder. What?
“You don’t destroy companies; you buy them to fix them. It is your natural ability to sense when something needs you. You have always been like this, even when you were a tiny little boy. You are attracted to people who need help.”
I stare at her.
“Think about it. The staff that you yourself hire always have an issue that they need to overcome.”
My mind instantly goes to Fletcher.
“The companies that you want always are in trouble.”
“That’s my job, Mom.”
“No, Tristan, nobody ever told you that you need to buy companies in trouble. You took that on yourself. Are you in love with Claire because she needs you to fix her?”
“No,” I snap, annoyed.
“Her sons, do they have problems? Because I can guarantee the bigger the problems they have, the more you will be attracted to them.”
I clench my jaw as I watch her.
“Every girlfriend you have ever had has needed fixing ... except Mary.”
My nostrils flair at the mention of her name. Mary was my second girlfriend. I grieved her for years after we broke up.
“You loved Mary, Tristan. With all your heart you loved her. But she didn’t need fixing, so you felt that you had to leave her.”
I drop my head and stare at the carpet as a piece of my puzzle falls into place ... the world begins to spin ... is she right?
“Why do you think you were so heartbroken breaking up with her? And yet you couldn’t take her back,” Mom says. “Could you?”
My eyes search hers.
“You are about to perhaps give up the chance to have your own children for a woman you think you need to fix. Those boys will never be yours, Tristan. They are hers and his.”
I begin to hear my heartbeat in my ears. “I love Claire, Mom.”
“I know you do, darling. There’s a lot to love.” She smiles softly and cups my face in her hand. “But before you go any further with her and her children, I need you to do something.”
“What?”
“You do this for me, and I will never ever bring this up again, and I’ll embrace Claire and her boys as if they are my own.”
“What do you want?”
“I want you to go and see Mary.”
I clench my jaw. I don’t think I can. It hurts me just to think of her.
“After seeing her, if you can honestly tell me that you don’t have any feelings for Mary and what I am saying isn’t right, you have my blessing with Claire.”
“Mary’s probably married by now, Mom.” I sigh.
“She’s still in love with you, Tristan. She never got over you.”
My chest tightens, and I frown in pain.
“I speak to her often.” She hands me a card with her name and address. “She’s expecting your call today.”