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“Scarlett?” Danny laughs and shakes his head. “Never in a million years. She didn’t tell you she wasn’t rich and then she fell for you, and she tried to help me. And even though you stomped over her, she tried to help you.”
“What are you on about?” I have a whiskey with my name on it and this kid is annoying the shit out of me. Or maybe he’s making me uncomfortable when he speaks of Scarlett, hitting a little too close to the marrow.
He glares at me. “The only thing Scarlett’s ever been guilty of—apart from opening her mouth before thinking some things through—is having a giant heart. You don’t deserve her and I’d rather clean toilets than work for you.”
“Why are you here?”
“To tell you that you’re a class A idiot.”
And with that, he lets go of the door and walks off.
After he’s gone, I look at my whiskey in the drawing room but I don’t want it anymore. Danny Colton’s words haunt me. I am an idiot. And what’s worse, is he’d be the kind of person I’m interested in hiring.
Or investing in, if he’s to be believed in the little people comment. I have small businesses I support, ones who don’t fit in with me, but I invest in and regardless of what he said, I make a note on my phone to have him looked into—properly. He was courageous and determined and he stood up to me.
If he’s got what I like, I’ll take him on, or invest, or both. My business is something I know. And regardless of what I said about not ever hiring him, I will if he’s what I want.
But the rest of it? Scarlett? That’s done and dusted.
Problem is, it doesn’t feel like that. And her brother’s words haunt me as I haunt my home for the next hour. I can’t sit. I can’t work. I’m not interested in eating. And even the booze lost its charm.
I want something, but I don’t know what it is.
Suddenly, I stop and close my eyes.
Yes, I do.
I want Scarlett.
I don’t stop to think as I call for my car. The ride to Brooklyn seems to take forever, but finally we’re there. I hit the ground at a run and ring her doorbell.
We can talk. We can—
“What are you doing here?”
It’s her roommate, dressed up and heading out the front door of the building. My finger is still on the buzzer.
“I’m here to see Scarlett.”
“She’s not here, asshole. She’s gone.”
I frown. “What do you mean, gone?”
The girl gets in my face. “Like gone in a puff of smoke and not coming back. See ya. Wouldn’t want to be ya.”
She saunters off over the cracked pavement, high fiving a guy who’s pants ride low under his boxers as she goes.
I pull out my phone to call Scarlett, but it’s straight to voicemail.
There’s no one else I can speak to. And Scarlett…
I fucked the hell up.
She’s gone.
That rocks me right down into the ground and I can’t breathe. It’s like a boot, crushing my ribs into dust.
I get back in the car and we return to Manhattan.
