Page 32

“Piece of shit!” I swipe the binders and pens off my desk to the floor, the crashing sounds echoing in my office.

The office soundtrack of muffled conversations and phones ringing comes to an abrupt halt like someone pressed pause on the music player.

I don’t even need to step outside my office to know everyone has stopped working and half the lemmings are no doubt straining to hear what’s going on in here and the other half are probably scared shitless.

I haven’t missed how Jane opts to call me on my phone instead of knocking on my door now, or how even Hayley, my bravest soldier, gives me a wide berth when she sees me storming down the halls.

I don’t know if it’s the lack of sleep, the mounting pressures of the TransAmerica situation which has, as predicted, escalated rapidly in a hostile takeover situation, or if it’s the one person I can’t stop thinking about despite my best efforts. The person I’ve never forgotten.

I’m going crazy.

Staring at my monitor, tilted askew on my desk, I reread the email that landed me in a pit of boiling rage moments ago.

Steven,

Sorry, Voss made me an offer I couldn’t refuse. Hope this doesn’t change things between Pietra and us. My shares in TA are with them as of this morning.

Regards,

Pete McGinnis

P.S. I’d watch Hancock next. I know he said he wouldn’t sell, but things have a strange way of changing around here.

Heaving in a deep breath, I wrack my brain at where things went wrong.

In the last nine months, Voss has steadily increased their holdings in TransAmerica, and before this morning, they held ten percent of the shares or proxy votes, mostly acquired from smaller shareholders, but McGinnis is a board member, and he alone held fifteen percent of the company, which makes the loss of his shares devastating in our fight to save TransAmerica.

Now, the score is Voss with twenty-five percent, Pietra Capital with twenty percent.

Whoever gets over fifty percent first wins.

McGinnis and Hancock, another board member, were the most vocal about keeping TransAmerica away from Voss from what Father told me. His abrupt one-eighty this morning came from nowhere.

How did I miss this? Where did we go wrong?

I pace in front of my desk, the office still eerily quiet. A few muffled coughs travel through the door.

We missed something. Something obvious. There’s no way McGinnis would sell to the scum of the earth, Timothy Voss, over keeping the shares or selling to us. What we offered was more than fair, we even tacked on a premium and discount on investment management fees.

Pressing a button on the phone, I listen to the ringtone of the call connecting.

“Yes, Mr. Kingsley?” Hayley answers promptly, even though I sense a thread of trepidation in her voice.

“Get me everything we have on Hancock.”

“But he’s a loyalist—”

“Things change, Hayley. We just lost McGinnis. We missed something,” I growl, slamming my phone back on the receiver and burying my hands into my hair, tugging at the carefully arranged strands.

Imbeciles. All of them. I might as well do this job myself.

Blowing out a frustrated exhale, I collapse into my chair and close my eyes.

An image materializes in my mind, one of many which rotates like a slideshow during random hours of the day.

Violet eyes, which glow sapphire in dim lighting.

Mischievous glint. Mind as sharp as a tack, noticing problems other miss.

Lips spewing out random facts in the early hours of the morning.

Nine months, one week, and three days. That’s how long she has been gone from my life.

My heart stutters before kicking into a frenzied rhythm as my mind drifts to Grace. Her memories have haunted me in the last nine months, keeping me up at night.

An anvil would sit on top of my chest when I walked into the office at the early hours in the morning, my heart clenching when I’d see her empty cubicle.

My mind would relive the mornings I had with her, our quiet conversations in the dark, sharing a soggy bagel, which somehow tasted delicious in the faded thoughts of my recollection.

The hole in my chest has widened and deepened and I don’t know how I’m still functioning each day.

The yearning in my gut is a visceral jab from an ice pick, so intense I’d wake up in the middle of the night, my body drenched in sweat from fevered dreams with her laughter and smiles keeping me company .

Then the abyss would sweep in, cold and haunting, drowning me without water, and I’d wish I could fall back asleep and dream of her again. I’d give anything to experience the lightness in my chest, the warmth from her brightness, the peace I felt in her presence.

“I don’t need anything in the world. I don’t need success or money.

I don’t need my titles or estates. I only need you in my life.

” The insane line from the drivel of a romance novel I read over her shoulders that first morning in the office suddenly makes sense, and the realization knocks the wind from my chest, and I grip the desk before me for support.

Emotions are distractions.

Emotions are for the weak.

But why do I want to be carried away in the throes of it with her?

My chest clenches—a phantom ache, the constant companion to the murky hollowness in my rib cage.

Where is she? Why did she vanish? How is she doing? Is she safe? Is she taking care of herself?

More questions, but no answers.

Retrieving my wallet from my pants, I sink into my chair. My eyes feel heavy, another product of a restless night, and I pull out the worn sheet of paper, the size of an index card, which still faintly smells of jasmine.

Her farewell letter.

Unfolding the note from my wallet, I trace my fingers over the feminine, loopy swirls of her handwriting, the only sign she was ever real in my life.

Dear Steven,

I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you this in person.

Because of circumstances outside of my control, I had to move and end my time at Pietra early.

The last two months have been a dream. I’ve learned so much from you and the team.

I was excited to get out of bed each morning and eager for my future.

But we don’t always get what we want in life and sometimes, you have to face the sound of the music.

While the experience at the firm has been wonderful, I’m most grateful to have met you. I only wish we had more time, because I want to know why an aching loneliness haunts your eyes. I want to know why you can’t sleep at night.

I hope someday you’ll be able to quash the demons inside you, because you deserve so much more, Steven. You deserve to be happy.

Don’t look for me. You won’t find me. But know that wherever I’m at in the world, I’ll be cheering for you, and when you see a star streaking across the nighttime sky, know that I will be thinking of you.

Your friend,

Grace

The phantom ache in my chest resurfaces, threatening to rob me of my breath as I reread the words I’ve long memorized. I can feel her pain and sadness in each stroke, each heavy press of the pen at the end of every sentence.

I can see the droplets of liquid, long dried, smearing the words at the corners .

Tears. I’d bet my life on it.

And the helplessness I felt nine months ago, the first time I realized I couldn’t solve a problem, couldn’t make it all go away, shakes me to this day.

What happened? It couldn’t only be because she didn’t get the job offer. It has to be something else.

I thought about hiring an investigator to look for her, but then what? She obviously didn’t want me to find her, and she clearly distanced herself from me.

My mind swirls to my father and that one night when he sat next to me as we looked up at the stars in the skies.

Once a woman slipped in and captured the tender organ, she’d never let it go, even if she was no longer in your life. And for the rest of your life, you’d lose part of yourself, knowing you’d never be able to reclaim it.

Wise words from my father. I was too young to understand. And now, I wonder if it’s too late. If perhaps my heart has been stolen from right under my nose and now I’m left bereft for the rest of my life.

Ping.

My cell chimes with a text message notification.

Emily

Friendly reminder to be at The Orchid at five today. Jack’s promotion celebration. I’m texting you the location of the secret courtyard. Don’t be late.

Not a second later, another message comes through.

Emily

I miss you, little bro. Can’t wait to see your surly ass face. *Smiley face*

I chuckle under my breath at Emily’s messages, which smooth the splintering edges of the ache in my chest. I don’t know why I keep thinking about Grace, even after all this time has passed.

She was only a friend, Steven. That’s all she ever was.

Not everyone is meant to have a permanent place in your life.

The words ring false. Complete lies.

My thoughts drift back to the last time I felt true heartwarming happiness spreading inside me, when my mind wasn’t thinking about work or profitability, when I was actually present, with no worries in my mind, every cell in my body fully awake and aware of the person next to me.

The woman with nothing to her name yet is the richer person between the two of us.

The woman who made me feel alive, who made me feel the sultry heat of desire in my veins, who made me want to think about, to do impossible, ridiculous things.

Things like hauling her against me, sealing myself with her, hearing her moans and whimpers as I find out what makes her scream in pleasure, drawing from her brightness, her positivity, and burying myself deep inside her and never letting go.

I just can’t seem to forget her, even though her presence in my life was as brief as a passing hurricane, devastating all the same.

My thoughts drift back again to father’s words… bereft is too little of a description for what I’m feeling every day. Time has not healed the wounds but widened them. Because now, I finally know what I’m missing.

I miss her. So goddamn much.