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Scarlett.
Pale and scared and breaking my heart with those big hazel eyes. Breaking my heart, if I had one that believed in love.
“I thought we should talk,” she said, moving from one foot to the other as if she’s half thinking of running away. “I already spoke to your lawyer.”
“Oh, you did? Trying to get a sweeter cut of the fucking pie?” Her words are a red flag to my raging bull and the fury takes over. I want to lash out, but all I can do is push her away. “I’ll give you whatever you want. I’ve destroyed the NDA and the contract, you’re free to do whatever you damn like, and I’ll pay you the money. Just go and do whatever it is far away from me.”
And I don’t give her a chance to respond. I just walk in and slam the door.
It should feel better than it does.
But it doesn’t.
It feels like utter hell.
I’m three drinks into the bottle of whiskey and I’m not planning on stopping any time soon. My anger is still at nuclear levels but there’s something else there, as I toy with the glass, staring into the contents, that I don’t like.
Regret? Self-doubt? I don’t know and I don’t care. Magnus has called me a few times, and my mother. But I ignore them all. Just like before.
I slammed the door on Scarlett about an hour ago and even I have to admit it was a low moment. Low and pathetic and not something I do.
Cool and calm and smoothly calculating, that’s me. The man who works hard and only has time to play on his tightly controlled schedule. Fits of passion aren’t me unless they’re in the bedroom and…
Even then, it’s getting off for me and the lady in question. On finding the release. But Scarlett got down in deep and it became a clawing need I couldn’t control.
I shove my hand through my hair and consider throwing the handmade antique glass.
Actually consider it.
For the second time that evening, I’m thinking about destroying something. Something shifted inside and I can’t get it to move back. It’s like Scarlett invaded and decimated and—
The doorbell rings.
“For fuck’s sake.” I slam the glass down on the delicate side table next to the settee, and I don’t know why I’m back in this room, maybe it’s because it’s the least like me and therefore doesn’t seem infused with her, even though she hasn’t been in most of my place, I slam it down and stalk to the door, ripping it open.
“Mr. Sinclair, I’m—”
“Scarlett’s brother. I don’t want to see her and I don’t want to see you,” I snarl at the light brown haired man who, now I know who he is, I see the resemblance. “You can go.”
I start to turn, but his hand comes up and catches the door. I look at it and then at him, but Danny doesn’t release the door and I do have a spark of respect for that. A small one.
After all, no doubt he was in on the whole fucking thing.
“No.”
“Excuse me?” I say.
“I said no.” Danny’s shaking a little, but he lifts his chin and looks me in the eye. I have staff who’ve worked for me for years who wouldn’t do that when faced with me in this mood. “You know, for years, ever since I got into real estate—and no, you don’t know me, I’m the smallest of the bottom feeders, and I’m honest—I saw your empire as my dream. I wanted to be good enough to work for you.”
“They all want to be agents who deal with the best clients and rake in the big bucks. I’ve heard it before.”
Danny smiles a little. “I wanted to work with the best of the best. Small can be good, too, and not every client will rake it in, but I guess you wouldn’t know that. Too big. Too heartless. See, I made one mistake. I trusted my partner a little too much when I set out and he stole everything and blackened my name.”
“If you’re here to beg for a job, I don’t hire the Colton family.”
The smile vanishes. “No. I wouldn’t work for a man like you. How you treated Scarlett? Never. She’s worth a million of you.”
“She lied to me. Tried to scam me.”
