Chapter 8
JULIAN
My chest hurts when I wake up. I look around the bed and don’t find Cat next to me, so that might be the reason. Her absence leaves me cold, makes me shiver. Slowly, I sit up, the sunlight streaking across the sheets and the floorboards.
Where is she?
I raise from the bed and get dressed. Should shower as I always do before I leave the room, but her scent still sticks to me, and I won’t wash it off before I see her again. Obsessed. I’m a man obsessed, and the lack of the sight of her pains me like something physical. Like a wound.
I never thought it could be this way, but my body aches for her. As if it doesn’t remember how to work when she isn’t nearby.
Peeking out the window, I search for her in the grass below. Maybe near the pool or riding a horse. Lisa’s children are playing to one side, but that’s all I see. Maybe she’s still in her room?
I release a shaky breath. God, I wish she would have stayed with me.
I would have brought her breakfast in bed, woken her up with kisses to her eyes.
But Santiago. I breathe out. Santiago’s always seemed to be a very conventional sort of man, and a very difficult one to please.
The fact I’m his superior makes him try to please me, but he isn’t the same with the others.
And these days I watched him next to Catalina proved to me he doesn’t go easy on her.
She would have stayed with me if it wasn’t for her father. Cat is still young, and she needs his approval. There’s also the possibility of an HR problem. I should talk this over with both Cat and Lisa, then bring the subject up to Santiago. There’s no way I’m keeping this relationship secret.
Not when I want the entire world to see how perfect she is.
I leave the bedroom, making my way down to the bustling dining room. Breakfast is served and my employees and their children take their places at the table. Lisa calls out for her kids, then walks in, opening a soft smile.
“Mr. Julian Reynolds,” she says in a cheerful tone. “Good morning to you. Have you seen the weather outside? Beautiful.”
I have not. I haven’t noticed because all I can think about is Catalina. “Good morning, Mrs. Song.” And I can’t hide the cheerfulness in my tone. My employees even stop and look up, arching their eyebrows. Lisa suddenly looks like I slapped her. “Everything alright?”
“Well...”
She keeps moving, circling the table to sit down at her designated place.
“It’s just hard to see you in such a good mood.
But I guess the weather’s to blame, right?
” And she winks. I almost smile. She knows it.
My HR manager has always been the smartest of the bunch, and the way she smiles makes me think my relationship with Cat might not be that much of a problem.
“Of course,” I say, keeping up with the charade. “Have you seen Catalina and Santiago? Strange for them not to be up yet.”
Lisa starts to shake her head, but my financial manager looks up, cutting in. “They left.”
I freeze, my muscles growing taut. “They what?”
“Left. I saw them when I got up for my early-morning jog.”
“It’s barely a jog, Dad,” his daughter starts, and the two are about to enter an argument when I stride closer to them. They stop, looking up and up at me. I tower over them, casting a shadow, and the entire table falls in silence.
“Left,” I repeat, but I can’t wrap my head around that.
“Yes, sir. I saw them driving off. Catalina looked quite upset.” And he turns to the table. “I’m pretty sure Santiago must have had some problem, and she wasn’t happy to leave.”
Shit. Shit, he found out. I can feel it deep in my bones. I glance at Lisa, then shoot out of the dining room, aiming at the front door. Her steps follow me.
“Mr. Reynolds,” she calls out, and for a moment I think she’ll try to stop me. I whirl around to face her. “I’ll call him. Maybe something did happen.”
I shake my head. “No. This is about us. Catalina and me.”
She pauses, crossing her arms. “Then go. I’ll send you their address.”
I arch an eyebrow, moving for my car keys. “Are you even allowed to do that?”
She laughs. “You are the company’s owner, after all.”
And I leave. I drive as fast as I can without breaking the speed limit—I don’t need a cop to stop me now.
Lisa keeps her promise and shoots me the address.
She also warns me Santiago said it was a family emergency but explained nothing else.
I insert the address into my GPS and eat up the distance as fast as I can, no stops, until I reach the city.
A nice suburban house rises, the yard well taken care of, the coat of white paint brand-new.
Santiago’s car is in the garage, and I get down from my vehicle and stride to the front door without waiting another second.
Then I hear it. The cries, the female voice hurting.
It makes my blood boil, acid climbing my throat.
What the fuck is he doing to her?
The sounds come from further in the house, so I descend the porch and make my way around the house, passing a large window into the kitchen. And then I see it. Catalina pressed against the fridge, Santiago’s hand risen. And he slaps her.
His slap hurts me. If I could explode, I would.
I stride to the back door and kick it once. The hinges don’t take it, and the door drops with a thud. Catalina squeals. Santiago whirls around with a curse on his lips. Then his eyes meet mine and he goes pale. A cruel smile, hoping for pain, crosses my face.
And nothing in the world could stop my fist from connecting to his face.
I punch him in the nose and Santiago steps back, hands going to his face. He glares back at me, then raises a fist to punch back. No time. I hit him in the side of the head, and I’m too big, too strong, and the size I’ve always disliked counts as something good now.
Rage makes me see red. I can’t stop. His body drops and I drop with him, gripping the collar of his shirt.
Punching. Punching. My knuckles sting when I break his nose, then his right cheekbone.
I roar, anger burning inside me. Can’t fucking believe it.
Can’t fucking believe he’s hitting his daughter!
I could fucking kill him for doing that, for even thinking of slapping her.
Hands curl around my shoulders, soft, small hands. Her smell wafts over me, embracing me. “Stop,” she pleads, her voice soft.
And I do. I immediately stop. “He hit you,” I roar back, anger still making me flustered.
“I know. But don’t kill him. Please.”
I look down, Santiago a bloody pulp on the kitchen tiles. He’s not down, glaring up at me with fierce rage. I get to my feet, and he spits blood on my shoes. My muscles tremble to kick his teeth in, but Catalina holds my arm against her body, her warmth grounding me.
“Don’t,” she pleads, and I look down at her face. What I see there almost ends me. A cut across her cheek, a split lip, blood oozing down her chin. Angry red patches cover her face, neck, shoulders, swelling spots. My entire being shakes with anger. “Don’t,” she repeats.
I grab her hand in mine. “Pack up. Let’s go back.”
She nods and shoots to the living room. Catalina grabs the suitcase she took to my place days ago, and we leave. My fingers tremble around the steering wheel as I drive us out of there, but a single touch from her cools me down.
“Thank you,” she says, then leans her head into my shoulder. And that’s all I need. Her presence. Her. All I need is this woman.