Chapter 29
Blindsided
Nick stood there, watching Kate run away, his heart a heavy stone lodged in his chest. He wanted to call her back, to tell her he didn’t want things to end this way, but he let her go.
Kate had decided they were over before they had really begun. She hadn’t believed him. She had already made her decision.
A deep sigh escaped him, an unexpected pang of loss weighing down his shoulders. Perhaps it was for the best; the longer he held on, the more he would inevitably hurt her.
Kate was different—he’d been so comfortable with her. He’d told her things he’d never said to anyone else. She deserved something real, something he couldn’t give.
Then there was the Jessa thing. Who was she?
He knew a Jessica, the model whose parents had been friends with his own.
A month ago, he attended an upscale charity gala with her out of obligation, but he didn’t particularly like her.
He certainly didn't invite her down; his home was a place he wanted to share with Kate, not some shallow fling.
Why would Kate think he could do that? His stomach churned with frustration and disbelief. Did she really believe he could betray her like that?
Maybe Kate wasn’t as different from the others as he had hoped. His lips pressed into a frown, grief flooding through him. She only looked surface deep, like everyone else.
He had no idea how long he stood there, rooted in place, before irritation replaced disbelief, pushing him to move.
When he trudged into the kitchen, Zach sat at the island with Marguerite, remnants of breakfast scattered in front of them. The scent of coffee and bacon hung in the air.
Marguerite’s face lit up with a bright, happy smile. “Let me pour you some coffee, Nicky. You look tired. Late night?” Her teasing tone twisted like a knife in his gut, and the concern now replacing her playful demeanor only deepened his sense of loss. “What’s wrong, Nick?”
Zach studied him, his gaze sharp, homing in on the storm brewing inside. “Did you dump Kate, or did she dump you?”
Nick raked a hand through his hair, blowing out a breath. “I guess it’s fair to say she dumped me.” The admission came out like a lead balloon, heavy and sinking. The words tasted bitter on his tongue.
“Oh, no!” Marguerite’s hand flew to her mouth, her eyes wide with shock. “Why?”
A bitter laugh tried to escape, but he swallowed it down.
“I’m not entirely sure.” He shrugged, feigning indifference, though inside his heart was shattering into a thousand pieces.
“First, she said something about how we didn’t fit together, that we’re from different worlds.
Then she started babbling about me inviting some Jessa woman here and playing her. ”
Confusion swirled in his mind, a tangled mess of feelings he couldn’t quite unravel. He didn’t hide his bewilderment; they could see right through him. They already knew how much he cared for Kate, and that made it sting more.
Did you pick up any thoughts from her?
No, but I didn’t try. It wouldn’t be right, especially since she doesn’t know I can do this. However, I haven’t picked up anything from her at all. She might have a natural shield.
Zach nodded in response.
Nick! Where are you? David’s voice broke into his mind, sharp with urgency.
The kitchen.
A minute later, David rushed in, his expression urgent, chest rising and falling as though he’d sprinted across the house. “Nick, you’ve got a problem. A blonde bombshell type of problem.”
Nick frowned. “What are you talking about?”
“Lena called. You’ve got a mess on your hands.
Last night, a woman named Jessa tracked down Lena, demanding to know where you were.
She claimed to be your fiancée and said you invited her down, but no one knew where to find you.
Lena told her you weren’t at the resort—which is true, by the way—but she would pass along a message.
Then Walter came in and said she’d been at the bar earlier, repeating the same thing to him, pissed no one would tell her your whereabouts. He was the one who sent her to Lena.”
As David’s story poured out, dread settled in Nick’s stomach like a stone dropping into dark water, even as understanding dawned.
David took a deep breath, gathering his thoughts. “Kate was sitting at the bar when this went down. She heard everything. Walter said Kate looked upset when she left. Sorry, Nick. I missed Lena’s call last night—I turned my ringer off to work on a project.”
“Not your fault.” Nick ran his hand through his hair, frustration mingling with confusion. He slumped onto a stool, all his anger at Kate draining away like water through a sieve.
“This makes a little more sense now.” He glanced at David. “I just saw Kate on the beach, and she dumped me, saying something about us being from different worlds and I was playing her. Now I understand why.”
He rubbed his hands over his face, the rough scratch of stubble against his palms grounding him for a moment. “Shit. What do I do now? And who the fuck is Jessa? The only one I know with a similar name is Jessica, the model I went to the gala with, and I’m sure as shit not engaged to her!”
He paused. “That must be her. She’s often described as a blonde bombshell. But why the fuck would she claim to be my fiancée, or that I invited her here? And how do I find out when I can’t leave the house?” Nick jumped up and started pacing back and forth, his footsteps echoing against the tile.
David’s head snapped up. “Wait a minute. Email. Walter said she got an email inviting her down.”
“Yeah, so?”
David grabbed his tablet and powered it up, the screen casting a blue glow across his face.
“Let me hack her email. Give me a minute.” He glanced at Marguerite before he sent his fingers flying over the keyboard with an urgency that matched the pounding of Nick’s heart.
“Bingo! Jessica Wynn checked in yesterday afternoon. Her email is on the reservation, so this should be quick.”
Nick stepped closer, peering at the screen over David’s shoulder. It bothered David when someone hovered, but he had to see for himself. His life was unraveling, and he didn’t want to miss a single detail.
The screen flashed a blur of colors, and tension thickened the air as David tapped away randomly for Marguerite’s benefit as he poured his energy into the device, bypassing the keyboard.
A wave of gratitude washed over Nick. David was pushing himself without being asked—would be drained afterward—because Nick needed him. God, he loved his brothers.
The flashing stopped, and an email popped up on the screen. Nick leaned in, his heart racing, pulse hammering in his ears, and read it aloud for Zach to hear too.
“Jessica, I was so pleased to attend the gala with you last month. I never gave any credence to the hopes of our parents, but after spending that evening with you, it has been on my mind. I would like to spend more time with you and get to know you better. Please come join me at Ivory Sands in Florida for a few days. I would love to have your company. Nicholas.”
Nick’s stomach dropped, each word like a punch to the gut. The invitation threatened everything he had hoped for. He clenched his fists, knuckles whitening as his temper rose.
He straightened up. “Obviously, I didn’t send that. It doesn’t even sound like me.” He sighed, heavy with exhaustion. “And equally obvious, Jessica was used. She did receive an email she thought came from me. Although the engaged crap is all on her. Shit. How do I handle this? I’m not even here!”
Zach spoke up for the first time since David had arrived, his voice resolute, cutting through Nick’s swirling thoughts. “You let David and me handle it. This is a security matter. Someone spoofed your email, so David was alerted.”
David nodded, focus sharpening. “Yes, I’ll track it down and find out where this email came from. Given the timing, it’s very likely related to the LLC issue.”
Relief and dread washed over Nick in equal measure as Zach continued.
“Of course David contacted me, since it’s also a security matter.
I’ll call and tell her what happened: you aren’t at the resort, someone spoofed your email, and we’re looking into the who, why, and how.
It may not make her leave, but she should back off. ”
Nick ran his hand through his hair, frustration bubbling up. “Maybe. She’s pretty keen on the idea of a rich husband. She may not give up that easily.”
He looked over at Marguerite, uncertainty tightening his chest. “What do I do about Kate?” The thought of her made his lungs constrict, made it hard to draw a full breath.
She smiled at him, her eyes warm and loving.
“What do you want, Nick? You can explain Jessica, but first, you need to figure out what you truly want. If you are going to address her concerns, that is where you should start. Take some time to think it over, and then we can decide what steps to take.”
She rested her hands on his cheeks, a soft touch filled with comfort, like the warmth of sunlight breaking through storm clouds. “You deserve to be happy. Kate is a remarkable woman—she is not just a pretty face like your Barbie dolls.”
Guilt mixed with confusion as Marguerite paused, studying his face with her all-seeing gaze. “Did you say Kate mentioned something about different worlds?”
“Yes,” he replied, mentally reviewing her words. “She said something about writing smut books and how I’m a wealthy CEO from a completely different world. Why, does it matter?”
“Smut books? That is how she described her writing, her career? Hmm.” Marguerite tilted her head in thought, a slight frown creasing her forehead.
“It sounds like she has some of her own issues to work through, too.” Her expression softened again, and she smiled at him.
“Maybe she has past wounds too, making it hard for her to see the present clearly.”
With that, she turned and left the kitchen, Zach and David followed, their footsteps fading down the hallway, leaving Nick alone.
Marguerite’s words settled around him, frustration and yearning churning in his gut.
He didn’t know how to navigate this chaotic jumble of feelings and expectations, wasn’t used to feeling this much—this raw ache hollowing him out from the inside.
He leaned on the counter, the marble cool against his back, and closed his eyes, trying to unravel the tangle.
The house lay silent except for the hum of the refrigerator and the distant sound of waves.
His mind replayed Kate’s face on the beach—the hurt in her eyes, the set of her shoulders as she’d turned away.
The memory carved deeper with each replay.
What did he want?