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I knew why. I knew what ugly thoughts were bubbling just underneath the surface.
The blonde stood from the bed and got back in her dress. I’d finished dressing as well and opened the door for her. She sashayed through and I followed her to the elevators.
“Do you need me to call you a cab?” I asked as we rode the elevator back to the main level.
“Are you sure I can’t go home with you?” she pouted, running her hands over my chest. “The night has barely even started.”
“I have an early meeting.” It wasn’t a lie. I always had early meetings, but I felt like a tool for saying it. “Besides, you don’t want to leave Jessie alone in a pla
ce like this, right?”
She shrugged. The elevator opened. “I’ll see you later, then,” she said, although the flippant tone of her voice made it clear she realized she wouldn’t.
I almost stopped her, to take her number, but realized it would just be prolonging the inevitable. The game was over—she and I both knew I wouldn’t call. Before I could say anything, she stalked off in the direction of the bar.
I released a slow breath and headed for the exit. I was more than ready to get out of here.
I called my driver to circle back around and pick me up. He had been waiting in a lot a few blocks down. I’d assured him that I wouldn’t be long. I glanced at my watch. In and out in less than an hour. Not too bad.
I left the club, hoping that the blonde wouldn’t trash talk me too much to Jessie. But then again, I knew it didn’t really matter. My reputation as a world-class womanizer wasn’t exactly a secret in this town.
The night air felt good on my skin, but my head was really starting to pound and I had a feeling the raging headache had more to do with my own deeply rooted issues that the loud bass music inside the club.
“Fuck,” I groaned to myself. I rubbed my hands over my face and pressed my eyes shut tight. When I opened them, my town car was parked along the curb.
“Where to, Mr. Brighton?” my driver asked as he opened the back door for me.
“Home,” I replied, lowering myself into the backseat. I needed a shower and a stiff drink.
Chapter Three
The next morning, I found myself almost wishing that I’d let the blonde from the night before come home with me. My penthouse felt way too empty as I went about my morning routine. It was the same thing every day. Protein shake at four, workout done by four forty-five, shower and breakfast following that. Then suit up, and get to the office by five thirty. I was always there before anyone else. I preferred it that way. If I came in later, there were always too many people milling around in the hallways, wanting to stop me and talk.
I was friendly to everyone, all my employees, but I didn’t have time for their idle chit chat. Sometimes, I thought my friendliness was my downfall with the whole CEO thing. I figured if I was a colossal asshole, they might not stop and talk to me. I could be some tyrant hiding in an office all day and no one would care.
Like my dad had been.
I shook away the thought, not wanting to remember him that way.
It had been long enough since his death that I wasn’t overly emotional about it anymore. Thinking about him didn’t fill me with flooding sadness. Instead, it seemed that somewhere along the line, anger and resentment had replaced any lingering grief.
Taking over Brighton Enterprises had always been the plan for my life. As my father’s only child, it was an inescapable reality—albeit, one that I’d been hoping to avoid for a few more years as I spent time doing my own thing. I had always figured that when the time came, there would be years of grooming and training to get me ready for it and by the time I stepped into the corner office, I would feel prepared and ready to handle the weight of the job.
But life had thrown a wrench into that plan.
Tragedy had ushered in my new role all too suddenly, and I found myself struggling to keep my head above water most days.
Which is why, I reminded myself as I strode down the empty hallways, I was always the first to arrive and the last to leave the towering office building that housed the multi-corporation organization.
I went directly to my office and made myself a cappuccino. Caffeine had always been a vice, and since taking over as CEO, it was a non-negotiable in my life.
Coffee in hand, I settled into my chair and opened my email. A flood of new messages popped up on the screen and I rubbed my temples as I watched the onslaught.
Fuck, can’t these people figure out anything on their own? I wondered, as I started opening the messages at the top and worked my way down the list, making scribbled notes on my tablet, compiling a to-do list for the day. Once caught up, I drained my coffee, grabbed my tablet, and headed for the conference room down the hall from my corner office.
It was Friday and I knew most people would be phoning it in today, too busy thinking about their weekend plans to really give much effort. But that was a luxury I couldn’t really afford anymore. In another life, I would probably do the exact same thing.
“Good morning, Mr. Brighton,” Kimberly, my assistant, chirped at me as I walked past her desk.
