Fletcher
In all my forty-six years, I had never asked a woman to spend the weekend with me. Grace was the first. In fact, she was the first in many things.
She was the first woman to call me out on my crap. The first employee I had ever slept with. The first woman to completely capture my mind, attention, and heart. And the first to make me want to toss all the rules of my world into the trash just so we could be together. It was a great new world for me, and though I still wasn’t sure how I’d navigate it, I was happier than I had ever been before.
Our weekend together was fantastic. Not only we continued to have amazing sex, but we also spent a lot of time talking and actually getting to know each other as people for the first time in four years.
We talked about everything. I told her about growing up middle-class and working my ass off to build my empire from the ground up and heard her stories about growing up as the only child of a single mother. We discussed her dreams for the future, our favorite kinds of music and the movies we could watch forever. We even talked about our relationships with Charlotte and Harrington—which would be terminated as soon as possible.
The more I got to know about her the more I appreciated her. She understood me better than anyone in my circle and was strong, determined, funny and insanely smart. Put those things together with her killer body and adventurous nature in bed, and I had no doubt I had found the perfect woman for me.
When she left my apartment Sunday night, I was sad—and reluctant—to let her go. Her presence made me a better person, a happier person, but I knew she couldn’t show up at the office with the same clothes she wore on Friday without raising suspicions. Also, she had the Harrington problem to fix before she could truly be mine. Therefore, I kissed her lips and waved as a cab took her away.
The next day I arrived at the office bright and early with a clear head, a big smile and two cups of Starbucks.
“Hi,” I greeted Grace as I placed the coffee I had brought for her on top of her desk.
She looked up at me with a smitten grin, and I almost leaned over her desk to kiss her. The only reason I didn’t, was because we hadn’t discussed it yet and I figured she wouldn’t like the office drama that could bring.
“How was your weekend, Mr. Cox?” The name that had once made me so frustrated now brought a smile to my lips. She had called me that during one of our kinkiest thirsts this weekend and the memory still made my lower half twitch.
“It was exhausting in the best possible way, Ms. Taylor. How was yours?”
“Too short,” she replied.
Unable to hold myself, I winked at her and opened my mouth to ask her to step into my office when the sound of someone clearing their throats sounded beside me. Annoyed at the interruption, I wiped the smile off my face and turned my face towards the nuisance with every intention of telling whoever it was to fuck off. Dread washed over me when I saw Hawthorne staring through narrowed eyes at Grace and me.
“Ethan,” I said as I grew a bit taller on my spine. “To what do I owe this surprise?”
The condescension and sarcasm were evident in my voice, and his raised brow assured me he had picked up on both of them.
“Our charity, of course,” he said with the fake politeness wealthy and powerful people tend to use.
“Of course,” I said and pointed towards my office.
As Hawthorne turned around and started walking toward my door, I looked at Grace and rolled my eyes. She chuckled and winked as I followed him.
With the door closed behind me, I ignored Hawthorne for as long as I could while I walked to my desk and sat in my chair. He was already settled into one of the chairs facing me, a sideways grin in his smug face. I had to use quite a bit of restraint to avoid rolling my eyes.
“What do you need, Ethan?” I asked.
“To know you’re on top of everything for the charity’s launch party,” he said in a condescending tone. “We’re four days away, and it’s been a while since you updated me on the preparations.”
This time, I couldn’t contain myself and actually rolled my eyes. “In case you’re unaware, I run a billion-dollar corporation. I have no time to update you on a party.”
“And in case you don’t know, I have a few million invested in this project. I need to be sure that investment will go to good use if you know what I mean?”
I ran an infuriated hand through my hair. Ever since we first met, Ethan had treated me like I was his lesser simply because I had started at the bottom. It was exasperating, especially considering that my fortune was about a few hundred million dollars larger than his.
Squinting my eyes so he would see I was losing patience with him, I said, “This isn’t my first charity, Ethan. I know what must be done. Besides, Grace is an expert at organizing events. She’s been working on this one for months, and I have every confidence that the party and press conference will be a success. Now, I’m sure you have better things to do with your time than linger in my office babying me.”
Instead of taking my words as the invitation to leave that they were, Hawthorne stayed where he was and held my gaze for a second longer, that stupid smirk firm in his lips. There was a sort of challenge in his gaze I couldn’t quite understand. Although I disliked it, I did my best to respond to it in kind.
After about thirty seconds of our staring contest, he clicked his tongue. “Well, Fletch, if you say the girl is good, I’ll trust you.”
I nodded and looked at the door, clearly kicking him out again. I was eager to make him leave so I could call Grace into my office and kiss her. I missed her lips far too much.
However, like a chewed gum stuck to the bottom of a shoe, he stayed glued to his seat. Then, he added, “Just one more thing I’d like to check before I go.” I sighed but motioned with my hand for him to continue. He did. “This Saturday I ran into Charlotte at Lit,” he stated.
Honestly, I had absolutely no interest in the clubs he frequented or in Charlotte, for that matter. However, since I had to be polite to him, I tried to pretend that I did.
“Oh, yeah?” I asked. “How is she?”
“Worried,” he deadpanned. “Apparently, you’re not calling her or picking up her calls.”
Not knowing where he was going with this or why my love life was any of his business, I frowned. “And?”
“And, she’s worried. There are only a few days left until the event, and she still doesn’t know the color of your tie to match her dress.”
“I’m not taking her,” I informed in a matter of fact tone. “Also, why is this any of your business?”
Hawthorne looked at me like I had gone crazy, and maybe I had. Perhaps, I had gone completely insane and was imagining this entire ridiculous situation. I was a forty-six-year-old man, I was way too old to be discussing my relationships like a high schooler.
Still, despite the ridiculousness of this conversation, Hawthorne’s gaze was firm and his voice serious as he replied, “It is my business because, like I said, I have millions invested in this charity and, as you well know, money and appearances go hand in hand. You can’t have one without the other.”
“What are you saying, Hawthorne?” I asked purposely using his last name to make it perfectly clear I didn't like this conversation.
Leaning forward so his forearms rested on top of my desk and his face was right in front of mine, he said, “In a nutshell? I’m saying that you and Charlotte are an established item in our social circle. No one cares what kind of deal you two have or who you fuck on the side, all they care about is that someone as old money as the only heiress to the Bauer fortune deems your new money worthy of her time. People care so much about that, that they’re opening their fat, centuries old wallets to help us realize your dream. Don’t fuck with that by replacing Charlotte with your middle-class, black secretary.”
His words felt like a kick in the nuts. I wasn’t naïve enough to ignore that people had started treating me better since I started going out with Charlotte, but this was the first time someone had actually said that to my face.
A tsunami of white hot anger and revolt over Ethan’s words and everything people like him represented started to boil within me. My business was successful because I employed exceptional individuals who worked hard, and I had more money than I would ever need. I could very well retire and tell all those stuffy assholes such as Hawthorne to go fuck themselves.
However, I had worked my entire life to get into a place where I could help other people make something of themselves. To risk throwing it all away because of my personal feelings for someone I’ve always known I couldn’t have was incredibly selfish.
With a war raging inside of me, I closed my eyes in regret and disgust. “I’ll call Charlotte,” I informed him in a strained voice.
As per usual, he clicked his tongue and slapped my desk. “Good choice, Fletch!” he exclaimed as he got up from the chair and started walking towards the door.
He was barely out of my office when I folded my arms over the desk and let my head fall over them. I wanted to scream, punch something or disappear, but instead, I had to break up with my sweet Gracie right after the best weekend of my entire life.
“You okay?” she asked from the door.
I stayed quiet for a second, hoping she would go away. She didn’t. Instead, she closed the door and walked toward me. Her warm fingers touched the side of my face, and I cringed.
“Talk to me, Fletch. What did that awful man say to you?”
The tenderness and care in her voice made me hate myself even more for what I was about to do. After a deep breath, I picked my head up and fixed a stern expression on my face.
“Nothing but the truth,” I said in a monotone.
Her delicate brows pulled together, and her nostrils flared just like they had back in that coffee shop. She knew me too well, and because of that, she was perfectly aware of what I was about to do.
“You and I both know that man doesn’t know what truth is. He’s a pig, a dirt bag, an asshole—”
“He’s a smart businessman and your better,” I said and instantly hated myself for it.
Grace’s mouth hung open, and she took a step back as if I had literally punched her in the gut. Her beautiful eyes became rimmed with tears and I felt like each one of them was a knife piercing through my soul.
“My better?” she asked, her voice hollow. “Is that what you think, Fletcher?”
I shook my head. “It doesn’t matter what I think. It matters what is.”
She rolled her eyes. “That doesn’t even mean anything. What happened to the man who made love to me this weekend? To the guy who cooked me breakfast and told me about his family? What happened to the man who brought me coffee just twenty minutes ago?”
“He woke up, Grace,” I barked as I stood up.
This was killing me, but I knew it was for the best. She had told me that the reason she had been nice to me even when I was awful to her was that she knew I could be better, and as backward as it seemed, breaking her heart was me being better.
I ran a hand through my hair and steeled myself for the damage to come. “This weekend was great, and I’ll treasure it forever, but I have responsibilities to a world where you don’t belong. I thought I could change things, but Hawthorne reminded me that I can’t. Things are what they are, and you and I are what we are.”
For a few long seconds, Grace simply stared at me in silence. Tears were now running down her face, and the pain in her eyes was almost unbearable, but I kept myself firm. This is for the best, for the greater good, I reminded myself.
“For four years, you acted like a heartless asshole towards me, Fletcher,” she said in a weak and broken voice. “But this if the first time I see that it wasn’t an act. The heartless asshole is who you are. The man I fell in love with this weekend was the act.”
Still glancing at me, Grace pulled in a long breath through her mouth and held the air in her lungs for a few seconds. Her face was stern and focused as if she was thinking about something deep and I couldn’t help but wonder what it was. Then, she released her breath slowly and spoke.
“I quit,” she said, and with those words hanging between us, she whipped her tears and walked out of my office.
I stared at the closed door for what felt like ages. Deep down, I knew I had to go after her and beg for forgiveness, but I didn’t. I couldn’t. So, I did the only thing I could think off. I pressed the fifth position on my cell phone’s speed dial and walked toward the liquor cabinet.
“Hey, Charlotte,” I greeted as I opened a brand-new bottle of whiskey.