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Her writhing body as my tongue played between her legs.
All a fucking lie just so she could have what she wanted most.
Well, it was hers, and there was nothing else I could do about it. I found myself taking the exit to Todd’s house as I merged over three lanes of traffic to get there.
Chapter Thirty
Stella
I screamed for him across the parking lot. Begging for him to turn around. I needed him to come back so I could explain. Explain that things were different. Changed. Better. I had to tell him I was better with him, that the company was better with him. I had to let him know how proud I was of him for being the man we all knew he could be, for succeeding in a role he was born for.
I had to tell him he was right. That my father did have a plan and had made the right decision from the get-go, and it just took me time to realize it. The moments I spent swimming in his eyes and tangling myself with his body. The hours I spent talking with him and allowing him to help me, opening me up to an entire world I knew nothing about.
I just needed time, and he’d given it to me.
“Christian!”
I cried out his name in the parking lot as he sped away, his silent form imprinted on my mind. The San Diego air swirled around me while the sun beat down on my shoulders, and I clutched my copy of the paperwork while tears streamed down my face.
How could I have been so stupid?
How the hell was I going to fix this?
I watched his car until he disappeared into the horizon, then I stood there hoping he would come back. I cried, begging for him to turn around. To give me a chance to explain. Not to defend myself, but to tell him how I’d changed. How things were different. That I cared for him in a way I never understood I could, and how this business couldn’t succeed without him.
How I couldn’t bear to lose him.
But, his car didn’t turn around, and he never came back. He didn’t come racing back to wrap me in his arms or even give me a chance to explain. I didn’t hear the peel of tires rushing back into the parking lot, and I didn’t see his car dodging in and out of traffic to get back to me.
But, I did see it while he was trying to get away from me.
I slowly turned on my heels and made my way back to the office. My lawyer was standing there, elegant and stone-faced, and I wanted to slap him. Then curse him for going ahead without my permission. I wanted to yell at him that he was fired, that he made a move without my consent and that, legally, he couldn’t do that.
“Miss Harte, it’s out of your hands at this point,” he said.
“Why the fuck did you do this without my permission?” I asked breathlessly.
“Technically, I had to report it. The unaccounted assets hold up everything in court. We can’t legally process your father’s last will and testament until we can settle his entire estate. His company is booming. Ten percent of stock is a large sum to settle.”
“Why the fuck…”
My hands were trembling as the papers spilled to the floor. The office was spinning around me, and it looked as if my lawyer had three faces. Three faces and six sets of beady little eyes, bearing down onto me like the harshness of the sun I’d just tried to escape. I felt like I couldn’t breathe as my back hit the firmness of the office wall, and I felt a hand come down onto my shoulder.
And for a split second, I thought it was Christian. I hoped and prayed it was Christian. I silently begged within my mind for that hand to be Christian’s.
But it wasn’t.
It was just my lawyer’s.
I should’ve gone after Christian. I could have dashed into my car and followed him down the road. Run every stoplight and skidded around every car. Outrun every cop as I tried to get to him. I should’ve followed him wherever he went until his gas tank ran out and we sputtered to the side of the road. Then, I would have bolted out of my car and fallen to my knees and groveled for his attention. Or, I could’ve run after him, tackling him to the ground while repeating how sorry I was for letting all of this spin out of control.
For allowing my sorrows to drown me before I could find his hand underneath the cold, dark waters of fear and despair.
“You’ve filed these?” I asked, pointing to the papers on the floor.
“Yes. This morning, after I called you,” he said.
“Why didn’t you wait?”
