Chapter 15
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
cove
“Either define the moment, or the moment will define you.”
Often attributed to Walt Whitman
Stet:
I can’t get you out of my head. Thank you for spending the weekend with me.
Stet:
Safe travels to Paris. Call me when you land. I’d love to talk.
Stet:
Is this thing on? I’m starting to think you’re avoiding me. Please don’t.
The emotional security I once had blew out the fucking window when Stetson stormed into my life like a man on a mission. Emotions and feelings spill out of me without reason, making going into this next week all the more agonizing.
I already miss him.
I clutch my phone in my palm, hating myself for reading his messages again. I changed his name to Stet after our weekend in Chicago. It felt natural with the progress we made together.
No part of me wants to ignore him. Not even a little. But right now, it’s the only way I can be sure my head is clear and focused on the reason I’m here.
If I can just get through this week, secure the funds, and leave Texas like I was never here, then Stetson and I can have a fair shot together.
At least as long as he doesn’t write me off for ignoring him.
It hurts to hurt someone who has done nothing wrong.
If I need to grovel to get back into his good graces, I’m willing to do that.
My hope is that once I get settled wherever I’m staying this week and meet the guy I’m supposed to fake date, my anxiety will subside and I’ll be ready to talk. There are too many worries and doubts running through my head to form a competent conversation outside of today’s circumstances.
I’ve learned I’m useless when it comes to self-control around Stetson. One word of the charade I’m about to be a part of, and there’s no doubt he’d try to swoop in and save the day.
I can’t risk it. So, a week of silence will have to suffice. I’ll accept my consequence from him after.
Tossing my phone into my purse, I roll my luggage through the automatic doors and nearly choke on a fog of dry heat.
And I thought Miami was hot.
Florida heat has nothing on the stifling sauna that is Dallas, Texas. You’d think with it being the beginning of May, there’d be at least a slight chill to the air.
But nope. Spring has officially vanished and Mother Nature is out here taking names.
I don’t have too much time to dwell on the stickiness of sweat coating my body when I step outside the airport.
Or even as my driver, whom my sperm donor so kindly suggested I need because no visitor of his will ever be caught dead catching an Uber ride, transports me to a local restaurant where I’ll be meeting said sperm donor for the first time in twenty-one years.
Can’t wait.
As much as I’m dreading this entire ‘business deal with the devil,’ it lowkey makes me sad. Sad because of course I’m the daughter that came from a prick like Nathaniel McIntosh. God, just saying his name makes my skin crawl.
This isn’t something I want pity for. Hell, anyone who knows me knows that I have zero interest in knowing the guy anymore. So, doing this is a big ask for me.
However, I’ve never done anything to him.
Haven’t seen or talked to him since I was nine, other than that one time when I was in the Keys, but he doesn’t know about that.
So, what makes him hate the mere presence of me so much?
There’s a level of vanity in his voice that confuses me.
I’m past the point of caring why, but I am curious.
I’m only human, and whether he likes it or not, I’m his daughter.
I made sure to text my mom when I landed. As far as she knows, I’m going on a girls’ trip with Betsy and Kimber. Thankfully, they’re both out of town for work this week, so my plan fits the bill.
I hate lying to her. But I have no other choice.
She’d only try to talk me out of it, and honestly, I think she would be even more disappointed. Mom has witnessed firsthand the destruction not having a father around growing up did to my confidence.
Little girls need their daddies.
At least, that’s what I thought. Now, I’m a firm believer that any kind of love, no matter who it is from, is perfect because it’s given freely and willingly. I’ll never beg someone to love me or stick around.
I’ll also never be the reason someone regrets staying. I can’t.
That night in Chicago was one of the best experiences of my life.
And I say experience because I’m pretty sure I felt every single emotion imaginable.
Joy, frustration, exhaustion, carnal want, possessiveness.
All the things. Stetson revealed a side of me I haven’t seen in a long time. A side I somehow forgot existed.
I went along with his command to see me again soon, already knowing it’ll be at least a week, because I’m a weak, weak woman and couldn’t deny him. Fucking hell. The man is sex on a deliciously tanned, chiseled, and finer-than-wine stick.
Unlike anyone I’ve ever been with. The way his hands knew exactly how to touch me. I can hear the gravel of his voice now, degrading me to a level of intensity I’ve always craved.
I recline my seat in the sleek black Mercedes, taking in the views of the Texas landscape.
The buildings of the city grow sparse as we make our way to the outskirts of Dallas.
I have no idea where we’re going, exactly.
I was just told to have my driver take me to Churchill on Fiske, and to be there by five o’clock sharp, dressing the part.
Whatever that means.
After locating my suitcase in baggage claim, I made a quick stop in the ladies’ room to change into something I felt would be acceptable. I likely brought more clothes than needed. Thankfully, I have expensive designer taste, making every option suitable for Nathaniel.
But also…fuck Nathaniel and his need to tell me how to dress. Because of that, I brought some of my skimpiest dresses and skirts, knowing he’d piss me off in seconds and I’d need a way to make him cringe.
What fun would it be if I obeyed all his uptight commands and never defied even the tiniest bit?
I decided on a pair of red high-waisted trousers with a white satin button-down blouse tucked into the waistline.
A woman can only hope for solid paved roads wherever we go because I refuse to swap my heels out for flats.
I feel more confident in stilettos. It’s how I establish my own personal form of dominance as a woman.
And I’m gonna need all the poise I can possibly muster this week.
“Ten minutes out, Ms. Davenport. Mr. McIntosh and his assistant are waiting for you at a table.”
I snort. “Surprised he’s not one of those old hags who needs to be the last one there. Make a grand entrance or whatever. Isn’t that what bitter rich men do, Bryan?”
Bryan and I hit it off early on in our drive. He works for Nathaniel year-round, and lucky for me, has a sense of humor.
“You aren’t exactly wrong about that, Ms. Davenport.”
“Call me Cove. We’re gonna be with each other a lot during this trip, I’m guessing?”
Bryan nods, absentmindedly reaching behind him to make sure the air is cooling from both vents. “Yes, Ms. Cove. I take it you and Mr. McIntosh aren’t close?”
“What gave it away?” I joke. “Don’t I wear twenty-one years of abandonment well?”
Bryan falls silent for a moment. “I see nothing but confidence,” he reassures me. “Temperature well for you?”
“It’s just fine,” I sigh, deciding to pull my paperback from my handbag. Maybe a bit of Shakespeare will act as a decent distraction until we get there.
“Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind,” Bryan contributes, surprising me with his knowledge of literature. He smiles softly through the rearview mirror. “A Midsummer Night’s Dream. One of my favorites.”
“William Shakespeare,” I sigh. “Brilliance isn’t a bright enough term to describe him. You read?”
“Often,” he replies. “My wife and I met at a Broadway show featuring Romeo and Juliet. It was the moment I knew novels were not just for the dreamers, but a guide to eternal love.”
“That might just be the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard.” My heart soars for him. “Sounds magical.”
“Indeed it was, Ms. Cove. A time to be alive.”
Suddenly, the last thing I want to do is read.
A wave of emotions washes over me, reminding me of the scheme I’m playing a part in.
This isn’t me, yet I know it needs to be done.
Hearing Bryan’s story of how he and his wife met makes me long for something I know I’m in no position to have any time soon.
“Will you tell me about it, Bryan? How you and your wife came to be. I’d love to hear all about it until we arrive,” I ask him kindly, settling back comfortably against the leather interior.
This is the story I want to hear. A love story between two real-life people, still just as in love as before. I can see it in the way Bryan’s eyes light up as he starts with their meet-cute.
Ten minutes. I’ve got ten minutes of pure happiness before things take a turn for the worse. And despite Bryan being an employee of Nathaniel, the look on his face when we pull up to the bustling high-rise restaurant tells me he knows it, too.
Bryan insisted on ushering me inside, knowing there’s a chance I won’t recognize the guy.
He’s sadly mistaken.
In order to prepare for what’s to come, I made extra effort to memorize every one of his business deals, colleagues, secretaries, and failures down to the nitty-gritty.
That is one pro of his being a successful businessman—dirty laundry is public domain.
I can’t risk the chance of surprise bombs dropping.
Lucky for me, I noticed many satisfying faults in the billionaire car guy. Also, sent a giant well done to the man upstairs because while Nathaniel has definitely aged, my mother only looks better with time.
God, that feels good.