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I edge backward in this ridiculous storage closet and I let Sophie go.
The door swings shut behind her, and I dig my nails into the palms of my hands. Fuck. Fuck this. I wish I could put my fucking fist through a goddamn wall.
But I can’t do that any more than I can dash after Sophie and tell her that I don’t care about protecting myself or her reputation or the future of my company.
All I can do is unclench my fists, smooth out the scowl on my face, and follow.
I’m used to not being able to get what I want. It happens shockingly often for someone like me. Everyone assumes that once a person becomes a billionaire, they can do whatever they want.
It’s a fat fucking lie. I’m only a billionaire because I’ve made brutal sacrifices to get here. Sacrifices like putting on a neutral fucking face and returning to a party I want to burn to the ground.
“I was looking for you,” my grandmother says as soon as I enter the garden from the interior hallway. “Where’d you disappear to?”
“Had to take care of something,” I tell her, trying and failing to remove the weight from my words.
The old woman’s sense of perception is sharp. “Is everything all right?”
“It’ll be fine,” I assure her. “Just business.”
“You work too hard,” my grandmother fusses. “You need to take a page from Sophie’s book and make sure you’re enjoying it instead of working yourself to an early grave. I really like her, by the way. She has to be an asset to the team, as sweet as she seems.”
Early grave? Hearing my grandmother speak Sophie’s name—and telling me that she likes Sophie—is a nail in the coffin. I want to be thinking of anything other than Sophie right now.
And in spite of myself, in spite of everything I’ve done to try to protect us both, I find myself looking for her in the crowd. Seeking out the shape of her and the glint of her blonde hair.
She’s smiling and nodding encouragingly at someone she’s taking a video of, the consummate professional.
She doesn’t look in my direction.
I hate that I have to remind myself that it’s for the best.
Chapter 30
Declan
“This will all be over if you just go ahead and admit that you’re an absolute idiot.” Cole takes a puff from his cigar, raising a brow at Reed.
Reed scoffs, opening his mouth to reply, but I can’t quite pay attention to what he’s saying.
The private VIP room we’re in is quiet and low lit, with the scents of whiskey, leather, and spice hanging in the air. It’s where we usually end up when the three of us go out together, on the rare occasions when we don’t go to Cole’s place so that he can be home with Archie.
Usually, I can count on a night out with my two best friends to get my mind off whatever stresses have plagued me during the week, but it’s not working this time. I scowl into my whiskey glass, swirling the liquid around in its container with the growing realization that there isn’t enough whiskey in the world to drown what’s inside me.
I’m not interested in the smoky spice of the cigar slowly burning in the ashtray beside me, or the subtle flavors of the whiskey. And I can barely keep up with the conversation my friends are having. All I can focus on is trying to quell the thoughts of how fucked up everything is with Sophie.
“I’m hearing you,” Reed is saying as I slowly resurface from my inner turmoil. “And thanks for your concern, but it just isn’t needed this time. We’re just having fun.”
Cole groans and drags a hand through his hair. “Dec, for the love of god, I need you to back me up on this. We’re going to lose our boy to the idiot whims of his idiot dick.”
I try to get myself together, shaking off my dour thoughts. These are my best friends, after all. We’ve seen each other through a lot, and I know that if Cole is asking for my help, Reed must be in a particularly stubborn mood right now.
“The way it ended wasn’t worth the fun, Reed,” I say, gripping my glass a little too hard. “We’ve been through this. This was a scandal that forced you to quarantine, for fuck’s sake.”
The room goes silent, and Reed and Cole both turn to look at me. They both look confused, as if I just said something completely nonsensical.
“We’re not talking about Isabelle Rossa anymore, Dec,” Cole says after a pause. Reed is finally paying attention to us, although I regret that his attention is directed completely at me, a quizzical expression on his face. “That’s finally over, remember? It being over is the reason we could go out tonight instead of just doing poker night at my place. Reed can actually be seen in public again.”
I sigh, realizing just how much of the conversation I’ve missed while I was lost in my own thoughts. “Then who are we talking about?”
