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I sat back in my chair feeling deflated. I'd let myself drift away from real life for so long, I had missed out on opportunities.
"Off the grid," Rob returned to the call. "You must have been hiding in a cave for the last month. No wonder I haven't seen you out anywhere. Oh man, was it your dad? Did he . . . you know."
"You mean kick the bucket? Nope, he's not ready to go yet. Pretty sure if the grim reaper shows up in his bedroom, David Archer senior will tell him to get the fuck out and not return until he's good and ready."
Rob laughed but it was cut short. "Shit," he muttered into the phone, but it seemed he hadn't meant me to hear it.
"Shit what?" I asked.
"Man, I hate to be the one to tell you this, but it looks like Grant has been working behind the scenes to keep you from grabbing up his prospects. He told Peyton you were no longer a reputable investor. That your life was out of control." Rob's voice grew more somber. "Sorry about that, Nash. Seems Grant has been working overtime to ruin your reputation. He's no doubt worried that you'll be too formidable as an opponent. But, hey, I'll write Peyton back and put in a good word for you."
"That's all right, Rob. Thanks though. Guess that's why it's a bad idea to drop off the grid. I should have been out there defending myself and taking the old fart to the mat for his bullshit. I'll talk to you later."
"Yeah. Take care, man."
I slammed my phone down on the desk. I grabbed the stress ball I kept in my drawer and squeezed it as I visualized it looking like Morris Grant's prune shaped head. There was no doubt in my mind that he wanted to get ahead of me. He knew I was the talent in his company and with me on the outside, instead of inside his circle, I was a competitor.
I slammed the desk drawer and shot up from my seat, sending my rolling chair against the wall. I'd wasted the last month and let my guard down.
I threw the office door open and headed to the wet bar for a shot of whiskey. Shay was sitting on the couch holding that damn green pillow against her and reading a book.
She smiled up at me. "I was just going to come and ask if you wanted a fruit smoothie. I make a good—"
My gaze dropped to her sweatpants and the faded oversized t-shirt she'd pulled on after her workout. "I'm not paying you to lounge around like a frump in fucking sweatpants." Her expression flattened and morphed to hurt, but I couldn't seem to stop being an asshole. But there had been a purpose to this plan, and I needed her to hold up her end of the contract. "Put on one of those silky pieces of lingerie now."
She nodded once. "Right." She tossed the book on the coffee table and hopped up, still holding the pillow like a kid with a security blanket. She headed to the hallway. As I turned toward the wet bar, the pillow hit me in the back of the head. I swung back around. She lifted her chin in defiance, a gesture that, like everything else she did, turned me on.
"I realized I liked that pillow because it smelled faintly of your aftershave. Now I don't like it because it smells faintly of your fucking aftershave." She turned swiftly around and disappeared into the hallway. The guest room door shut sharply behind her.
It took a moment to pry my feet from the spot. I leaned down and picked up the pillow. I pushed it against my face and took in a deep whiff. I didn't smell my aftershave but I sure as hell could smell the scent of her skin and her hair on it. I decided not to decipher or contemplate what she'd said before she stomped off.
I skipped the whiskey and walked to the refrigerator for a cold water. I needed an hour in the gym with the punching bag. A heavy sweat and some good fist pounding would help lessen the rage I was feeling. It was nothing short of betrayal. I'd brought millions of dollars of business to MG Enterprises, and while I messed up good with my final client, I didn't deserve to be dragged through the fucking sewer. It was going to take longer than I thought for my new company to take its place in the market, but now, more than ever, I was determined to make it work. And aside from making millions and hopefully billions, I was going to make sure I put Morris Grant out of business.
I walked into my bedroom, yanked off my clothes and put on some shorts for a workout, then headed up the hall to the room I'd turned into my personal gym. Aside from a large mat for lifting free weights and a punching bag, I had a top of the line workout machine with a chest press, fly station and leg press. There was a state of the art treadmill and exercise bike too, but I found I preferred to get my cardio by running outside and riding mountain bikes. But the machines came in handy when the weather was too hot.
I cranked up some music, hoping it would help my mood. I grabbed the jump rope from the hook on the wall and started my routine. I was spinning the rope so fast it whirred through the air like a blade. Music vibrated the floor and the walls.
