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“King”. I had to be dreaming. He did not just answer his damn phone in the middle of sex, but he had. “Fuck, Nick. Not now. I thought it was handled.” He looked down at where I was pinned in place and gave a tight smile. I don’t know if I was more devastated or pissed this gorgeous god was about to walk out on me before the deed was done. As I lay there paralyzed by his words, he rose and paced the floor, raking his big hand through his cold black hair. “I’ll be on the next flight.”
When he ended the call, he slumped down on the sofa beside me. I could tell he was torn, but at the moment, I didn’t give a fuck what he was feeling. He answered his fucking phone.
“Molly.” He sounded desperate.
“Just go.” My voice was trembling, and I couldn’t even look at him when he stood and walked to the door.
“Goodbye, Buttercup.”
When I finally heard the door close, I rushed to the window and watched as he made his way hastily down the stairs and into the night. God, I was falling fast.
Chapter 7
Courtland
The last thing I wanted to do was fly back to New York tonight. I thought by now I would be buried deep in Molly’s hot cunt. We were so close until fucking Nick had to ruin the mood with his crisis call. I rarely answered my phone when I was otherwise engaged, but he had called my burner, and that always meant trouble.
It was four am by the time the plane landed. The flight wasn’t the best, but I was thankful I could get one on such short notice. Nick had the driver waiting, so as soon as we touched down on the tarmac and the pilot gave the all-clear, I hustled off and arrived at the office at 4:45. Nick was the only one in the building when I walked through the door of my office. He was sitting at the conference table looking like literal shit.
“Why didn’t you call me sooner?” I bit out coldly.
A look of remorse played across his face. “I thought I could handle it. Everything was on track until old man Morgan up and died. His son, Lucas, is taking over all his assets, including stocks and real estate.” I had never seen Nick so rattled, but it served him right. He knew what the stakes were going into this. If this deal went south, I stood to lose millions.
“Well, I’m here now. Let’s see if we can do damage control. Get Melinda on the line.” Nick reached across the table to make the call. As soon as she answered, he put it on speaker. Melinda was my assistant and was privy to all things concerning the Morgan deal.
“Talk to me.” My voice was urgent, but I managed to keep the panic at bay. My team didn’t need to sense my apprehension. The Morgan deal was set to close in the next two weeks. Old man Morgan was slowly going bankrupt, and King Enterprises was primed to swoop in and save the day. Of course, eighty percent of their stock would be signed over to us as payment. But, with the Senior going stiff on me, it didn’t look like that would happen in the near future, or ever. I didn’t know if this fucker, Lucas, would play ball or not.
After three hours of back and forth with Melinda, Nick, and Lucas Morgan, the deal appeared to remain intact. The junior Morgan was playing hardball and wanted to drop our side to seventy-five percent of the stocks, which was unacceptable. We finally settled on seventy-eight percent, which would amount to a significant loss for King Enterprises, but it could have been worse.
When the elevator opened to my penthouse, I walked straight to the drinks cabinet and poured a healthy portion of Macallan. Sliding into my armchair that overlooked the Manhattan skyline, I settled in, drink in one hand, phone in the other, wondering if I should call her. She was pissed at the way I left. But she didn’t understand what was at stake. I didn’t have time to coddle anyone, least of all a woman. If she couldn’t get over it, that was her problem, not mine. I’d be back in Stone Creek next week if all went according to plan here. I promised my parents two weeks, and that’s what I intended to give them. Who knows when I would be back after that?
****
It was warmer than normal for a late March day. One of the worst things about Michigan in the winter was the fucking snow. Hell, we had it almost year round. I lost a bet with my brother, Jackson, so I had to take his day shoveling the sidewalk, but if I waited much longer, the snow might melt on its own. My dad scoffed when I ran that idea by him. “Courtland, you’ll get nowhere in life if you adopt that lazy philosophy.” My dad was a stickler for hard work. Not that I was lazy. I just always looked for a way to work smarter, not harder. I was eighteen, and I thought I knew everything there was to know about life and about being successful.
My arms stung as I heaved the piles of white powder across the yard. I just removed the last bit of snow from our porch steps when I saw her. Leaning on the shovel, I took her in. Blonde and beautiful. Her eyes were the most vivid green I had ever seen. Pools of emerald you could drown in. Her hair shimmered like a thousand diamonds as it was caught in the wind and whipped across her face. She was young, probably too young for me, but as I watched her, I noticed she was also watching me. After a few minutes, I heard it. The unmistakable cracking of ice…
****
I woke up with a start. Beads of sweat saturated my face and hair, just like every time this nightmare played out in my sleep. I usually woke before it ends, but tonight, it lasted longer. Tonight, I heard the crack of the ice. Thank God I woke when I did; the taste of regret was still bitter on my tongue.
Would I ever be free of this curse? When did I fall asleep?
Grabbing my gym bag, I did the thing that usually freed my mind and released my demons. Well, one of the things. Molly wasn’t here, and I wasn’t looking for a random hookup tonight. So I’d punish myself by running until I couldn’t run any longer. After lacing up my Hokas, I made my way to the stairwell. If I wanted to throw myself into my regularly scheduled martyrdom, I would begin by padding down the twenty stories to the ground floor of my building.
Once out in the crisp March air, I found my groove. Pushing myself to escape the relentless skeletons determined to claw their way to the surface of my psyche, I headed toward Fifth Avenue. Increasing my strides and controlling my breaths, I moved with the stealth of a lion approaching its prey, not stopping until I could see the gleaming spires ahead in the distance. St. Patrick’s Cathedral was situated in the heart of Midtown. Its walls were shrouded in history. I never visited before, and I wasn’t Catholic, but something about its very existence drew me in. I quietly made my way to the front pew, avoiding the groups of tourists who were snapping photos and taking selfies as if the artwork would approve.
Sitting in this holy place stirred memories of long ago. I tried the confessional at another church a few years ago. When the priest realized I wasn’t of the faith, he was hesitant to offer advice. It was at that time my heart became cemented in stone. I locked away the past, determined to purge the weakness that devoured me and remake myself into the person I wanted to be. Everyone on Wall Street calls me Ruthless King because I strike when the weak least expect it and take no prisoners. I participated in more hostile takeovers in the last ten years than I’m willing to admit. I sold my soul a long time ago, and there were no take backs.
I’m not sure how long I sat there, but when I looked up, shadows had fallen across the stained glass windows. Exhaustion caused me to relent and catch a cab back to my building.
Walking toward the elevator, I looked at my phone and saw the missed calls. There were four missed calls from Jackson, which meant something or someone needed my attention. Dad. Plopping myself on the sofa, I pressed the button to retrieve my messages before returning his calls.
“Hey Courtland, man, I’ve tried calling you a few times, but apparently, you’re busy doing God knows what. Listen, I don’t have time to get into shit right now. I just need to know when you’re planning to come back to town. Dad’s numbers came back unusually high, and Mom is a basket case, but hey, you do you.”
Sarcasm dripped from his words like molasses. He was pissed at how I left town. I replayed his message three times before I was calm enough to make the call. After listening to his one-way ticket to Guilt City, I decided to return to Stone Creek tomorrow. I still needed to coordinate with Nick and Melinda regarding Morgan, and that could happen later tonight. As much as I disliked being put in a position of acquiescence, I knew I owed it to my parents to be there.
Melinda and Nick agreed to a conference call since it was almost midnight. We hashed out the rest of the fine print regarding the Morgan takeover. It turned out Lucas Morgan was almost as ruthless as I was. Almost. He had gotten into bed with my enemy, Victor Donovan, and discovered immediately he was in over his head. Donovan was another kind of asshole. The fucker tried to get in Molly’s pants at the gala two weeks ago. I’m glad I was there to stop it. There was no telling what he would have done to my sweet Buttercup.
