Chapter Forty-Four

Beau

“I don’t want to talk right now.”

I may not want to talk, but the phone is insistent, ringing again and again, buzzing against the surface of my desk. No—it’s not the phone. It’s West. He’s been calling all day, and he won’t stop.

Why haven’t I turned the damn thing off?

Important calls might come in, that’s why. If I was to miss a call from Edgar Sykes, I’d never forgive myself. I’m not thinking of Annabel. I swear, I’m not thinking of Annabel, only Bennett Inc. I’ve got the wheels spinning on all kinds of new projects, new outreach. I have people on flights right now, going to survey possible investments. Replacing the contracts from Edgar will take some time, but it won’t be impossible.

My office phone rings, the light on the front summoning my attention. I snatch it up with heat running down to my fingertips. At the last moment I catch myself. These calls are different. Snapping at the people on the other end of the line will be bad for business. That’s what I tell myself.

“Bennett.” God, I hate it. I hate how hope wells up in my chest every time this phone rings. I hate how this hope is wearing her face and speaking her voice. I never gave Annabel my office number, but if she found it and used it to call me? I’d celebrate for days. My breath stops in my throat.

“Mr. Bennett, this is Carl Forbes. I’m out looking at the hotel property in Seattle. The broker would love to set up a time to speak personally with you.”

My soul crumples.

Lashing out at Carl Forbes for daring to call in the first place is my first reaction, but I stifle it through sheer force of will. It’s not Carl’s fault that he isn’t Annabel. It’s my fault that she’s out there somewhere without me.

I rush Carl off the phone, connecting him with Linda. She’s the one who handles my schedule. Meeting times slip through my mind like a sieve, though I try my best to hide it.

I’ve no sooner hung up the phone than my cell rings again.

This time I crush it in my fist and swipe across the screen like a madman before bringing it to my face.

“Stop. Calling.”

“So harsh,” West sings. “Come to dinner.”

“I’m not eating dinner tonight. Not with you. You’ve been harassing me all day, and I’m finished with it.”

“Ah, so you’ve been avoiding me!” he crows triumphantly. “Your secret is laid bare. Come to dinner. We’re all going to be there.”

Oh God. The entire Overton group around a table, having a wonderful time, while the last remaining bit of my goodwill toward all other people dies in darkness.

“No.”

“I didn’t hear that,” West says. “You’ve been avoiding us for weeks. Not this time, my friend. Opening night is tomorrow at your hotel, and you’re celebrating. Come to dinner. Eight o’clock. I’ll send a car.”

“I don’t need—” West hangs up on me before I can finish.

*****

They’re all seated when I arrive at Topaz, an upscale place that Charlie has a hand in somehow, though he’s been rather coy about the details. Charlie is all the way across the corner in the back. Liam’s there, slouched back in his chair like he’s still in a hunting camp. Declan is raising a glass, the first of the tens he’ll raise tonight, and Kinsey sits next to him, an indulgent smirk on her face. West rises to greet me.

“Buddy,” he says.

“No.”

“Bennett,” he tries again. “Sit down!”

I sit. The conversation dies.

I must look horrible.

I didn’t look at myself in the mirror before I came. It’s not as if I’ve let my appearance go over the last week. More than a week? No, it’s been a week. It seems like several years. My routine is the same. I get in the shower every morning and put on the first suit that comes to hand.

“Is this an intervention?” I say, picking up the menu. It’s heavy, printed on high-quality paper, but the scripted words are meaningless. I don’t want any of this.

More awkward silence.

“No, man,” Liam finally says. “Are you sick or something?”

Sick of this. Sick of you. “No. Why?”

“You’ve gone pale,” Declan chimes in, shaking his head. “Not good for the ladies.”

Underneath my skin I am wretched, my blood bubbling, boiling. I don’t want to be at Topaz. I want to be with Annabel. I don’t care where we are. We could be in New Hope or homeless under a bridge somewhere. It makes no difference.

“Come on,” Charlie needles, though he keeps his curiosity more understated than the rest. “It’s clear something’s happened. Tell us, and then we can move on with our meal.”

“My God.” The heat is loosening my tongue. “You are vultures, all of you.”

It makes no impact. They stare, waiting. That’s the curse of old friends. You’ve called each other names since time immemorial. This is no different, and it makes me furious. They might not be different, but I am. She made me different.

“Are you sure you’re not sick? Because if you are—”

“I’m not sick,” I snarl. It’s a hard bargain, keeping my voice under control. “If you must know, which clearly you do because you’re all sitting here staring at me like the paparazzi, I lost a massive client for Bennett Inc. Massive. At least half the profit for the year.

There’s a shocked silence. “Damn,” Liam says, and then there’s a chorus of curses that circles the table.

I’m not paying attention to them. I’m paying attention to Kinsey. Of all the people sitting around the table, she’s the one who doesn’t look surprised. She frowns and turns away as if she’s looking for the waiter.

“What the hell happened?” Charlie says, anger in his eyes.

“I don’t know,” I say, my gaze locked on that evil woman. “Why don’t you tell us, Kinsey?”

Her mouth works as everyone’s heads swivel toward her. She’s trapped, and there’s no way for her to escape now.

“Jesus, Kinsey,” Declan says, incredulous. “Did you pull one of your little stunts again? Bennett’s not going to date you.”

They all laugh. She doesn’t.

“I was trying to—” Kinsey’s voice is small, and I can’t stand it. “I was worried about you, Beau. Roger wouldn’t—” She purses her lips. “I’m sorry.”

I bolt up from the table.

I’m done. Done with her, done with all of this.

I have one last thing to do.