I chose to handle justice myself, and I did. Until today.
Everything was collapsing. I was a walking, talking ghost. A no one. A man without a cause.
“Don’t let what they did to you define you. Find something else that makes you tick.” Eli’s voice shook with emotion. He didn’t care anymore that I’d fucked up his son’s face. Because my life was so much more fucked up than Dean’s ever would be. “Live, Baron. Live well. Don’t look back. And don’t ever visit that place again.”
He was talking about the mansion I’d planned to burn to the ground. The place where I was going to build a library to honor my mom.
When I walked out of Eli’s office, I collapsed on the steps leading to his patio and lit a joint. I fished out my cracked phone and called Emilia. She didn’t answer.
I called her again.
And again.
And again.
Then I started leaving voicemails. Voicemails that didn’t make any sense and that I knew for a fact I was going to regret. Her answering machine greeting was her singing in her sweet voice, followed by a breathless, girly giggle when she got to her punchline:
“Hey, this is Millie! Wanna hear a joke? Knock, knock! Who’s there? Not me, so leave a message and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can!”
I don’t know what your fucking problem is, Help, but you need to get back to me because…because I’m your boss. I pay you good money. I’m waiting for your call.”
“Hey, this is Millie! Wanna hear a joke? Knock, knock! Who’s there? Not me, so leave a message and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can!”
Are you mad at me? Is that it? Is this because I didn’t pick up the phone when you called? Should I remind you I had important shit to deal with because my dad had just died? Besides, I was upfront with you the whole time. This is not a relationship. It’s two people fucking the obsession out of each other. Get back to me. Now.
“Hey, this is Millie! Wanna hear a joke? Knock, knock! Who’s there? Not me, so leave a message and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can!”
Emilia! What the fuck!
Then, out of the blue, my phone vibrated in my hand. I let out a sigh and felt a little warmth finally seep into my chest. I swiped the damaged screen quickly.
“When you get here, I’m going to deny you every fucking orgasm you almost-reach for a whole week,” I growled.
A throat cleared on the other end of the line. “I’m afraid that won’t be necessary, Baron.” It was Jo, and her voice sounded amused. “Remember when you said we needed to do the dinner and wine thing more often? Well, I’d just love to see you tonight for a meal. Do you prefer red wine or white?”
My jaw ticked, and I would have hurled the phone across the patio if not for my need to hear from Emilia. I hung up and screamed until Keeley, one of Dean’s sisters, came out and dragged me into the house to calm down.
For the next twenty-four hours, I was coddled and fussed over by the Cole women like a pussy, while Dean came in and out of the house and shot me dirty looks.
“Fire her,” I heard him singing from his kitchen at one point while his mother sat next to me in the living room with a cup of tea and recounted every single family catastrophe she could recall and how things had somehow miraculously gotten better.
“Fire the girl, fire her now,” he continued, undeterred.
She was driving a new wedge between Dean and me, and she wasn’t even taking my calls. Hell, who knew if she was even down with helping me take Jo down? I seriously doubted it. No, I was on my own.
I thought I was going to use Emilia LeBlanc, but I was no longer able to control my plans for her, or for me. She was the only person I wanted to speak to when my world collapsed. No matter the outcome of the will, I couldn’t see letting her walk out of my life. Not again.
I sat in her ex-boyfriend’s living room, my face squeezed into his mother’s chest like a child, and realized that it was too late to back out.
I no longer wanted it to stop.
I was going after her.
And fuck the consequences.
TWO DAYS AFTER I READ the will, I heard Jaime let himself into my wrecked hotel suite with the key card I’d given him so he could come and go as he pleased.
“Jesus. How long has it been since you let housekeeping in?”
Dean’s blood was still on the carpet.
I lay on the unmade bed, smoking and staring at the ceiling. Jaime threw a paper bag on the nightstand beside me before taking out bottled water, wrapped sandwiches, Tylenol, and other crap he thought I needed. I’d gotten wasted with him and Trent after I left Dean’s, because who the fuck wouldn’t after they’d just been disinherited.
I puffed a cloud of smoke, and he grabbed the joint from between my fingers, put it out, and yanked me by the collar of my stinky white shirt.
His nose crushed mine. “You’re still a millionaire. You’re still young, rich, and healthy. And all you can think about is your stepmom getting your dad’s dough? Big fucking deal.”
He had no idea of the truth, and I didn’t want to let him in on the reason why I’d collapsed like a fucking pussy at Dean’s house. I just narrowed my eyes at him. “No one asked you to save me, Prince Dickbag.”
“So what are you gonna do, man?”
I sat up straight on the edge of the mattress and tugged at my hair. “New York,” I said, wishing the joint were still lit. “I’m gonna go back to New York.”
Everything was collapsing. I was a walking, talking ghost. A no one. A man without a cause.
“Don’t let what they did to you define you. Find something else that makes you tick.” Eli’s voice shook with emotion. He didn’t care anymore that I’d fucked up his son’s face. Because my life was so much more fucked up than Dean’s ever would be. “Live, Baron. Live well. Don’t look back. And don’t ever visit that place again.”
He was talking about the mansion I’d planned to burn to the ground. The place where I was going to build a library to honor my mom.
When I walked out of Eli’s office, I collapsed on the steps leading to his patio and lit a joint. I fished out my cracked phone and called Emilia. She didn’t answer.
I called her again.
And again.
And again.
Then I started leaving voicemails. Voicemails that didn’t make any sense and that I knew for a fact I was going to regret. Her answering machine greeting was her singing in her sweet voice, followed by a breathless, girly giggle when she got to her punchline:
“Hey, this is Millie! Wanna hear a joke? Knock, knock! Who’s there? Not me, so leave a message and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can!”
I don’t know what your fucking problem is, Help, but you need to get back to me because…because I’m your boss. I pay you good money. I’m waiting for your call.”
“Hey, this is Millie! Wanna hear a joke? Knock, knock! Who’s there? Not me, so leave a message and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can!”
Are you mad at me? Is that it? Is this because I didn’t pick up the phone when you called? Should I remind you I had important shit to deal with because my dad had just died? Besides, I was upfront with you the whole time. This is not a relationship. It’s two people fucking the obsession out of each other. Get back to me. Now.
“Hey, this is Millie! Wanna hear a joke? Knock, knock! Who’s there? Not me, so leave a message and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can!”
Emilia! What the fuck!
Then, out of the blue, my phone vibrated in my hand. I let out a sigh and felt a little warmth finally seep into my chest. I swiped the damaged screen quickly.
“When you get here, I’m going to deny you every fucking orgasm you almost-reach for a whole week,” I growled.
A throat cleared on the other end of the line. “I’m afraid that won’t be necessary, Baron.” It was Jo, and her voice sounded amused. “Remember when you said we needed to do the dinner and wine thing more often? Well, I’d just love to see you tonight for a meal. Do you prefer red wine or white?”
My jaw ticked, and I would have hurled the phone across the patio if not for my need to hear from Emilia. I hung up and screamed until Keeley, one of Dean’s sisters, came out and dragged me into the house to calm down.
For the next twenty-four hours, I was coddled and fussed over by the Cole women like a pussy, while Dean came in and out of the house and shot me dirty looks.
“Fire her,” I heard him singing from his kitchen at one point while his mother sat next to me in the living room with a cup of tea and recounted every single family catastrophe she could recall and how things had somehow miraculously gotten better.
“Fire the girl, fire her now,” he continued, undeterred.
She was driving a new wedge between Dean and me, and she wasn’t even taking my calls. Hell, who knew if she was even down with helping me take Jo down? I seriously doubted it. No, I was on my own.
I thought I was going to use Emilia LeBlanc, but I was no longer able to control my plans for her, or for me. She was the only person I wanted to speak to when my world collapsed. No matter the outcome of the will, I couldn’t see letting her walk out of my life. Not again.
I sat in her ex-boyfriend’s living room, my face squeezed into his mother’s chest like a child, and realized that it was too late to back out.
I no longer wanted it to stop.
I was going after her.
And fuck the consequences.
TWO DAYS AFTER I READ the will, I heard Jaime let himself into my wrecked hotel suite with the key card I’d given him so he could come and go as he pleased.
“Jesus. How long has it been since you let housekeeping in?”
Dean’s blood was still on the carpet.
I lay on the unmade bed, smoking and staring at the ceiling. Jaime threw a paper bag on the nightstand beside me before taking out bottled water, wrapped sandwiches, Tylenol, and other crap he thought I needed. I’d gotten wasted with him and Trent after I left Dean’s, because who the fuck wouldn’t after they’d just been disinherited.
I puffed a cloud of smoke, and he grabbed the joint from between my fingers, put it out, and yanked me by the collar of my stinky white shirt.
His nose crushed mine. “You’re still a millionaire. You’re still young, rich, and healthy. And all you can think about is your stepmom getting your dad’s dough? Big fucking deal.”
He had no idea of the truth, and I didn’t want to let him in on the reason why I’d collapsed like a fucking pussy at Dean’s house. I just narrowed my eyes at him. “No one asked you to save me, Prince Dickbag.”
“So what are you gonna do, man?”
I sat up straight on the edge of the mattress and tugged at my hair. “New York,” I said, wishing the joint were still lit. “I’m gonna go back to New York.”
