Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 63311 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 317(@200wpm)___ 253(@250wpm)___ 211(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63311 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 317(@200wpm)___ 253(@250wpm)___ 211(@300wpm)
“No.” I sucked in a gulp of air and let it out in a slow, jagged sigh. “I’m not running anymore. I’m not giving up. I’m just…sad.”
“I’m sorry. I wish I could make it better.”
I gave a water-logged sniff. “I know. Just…tell me about the Louboutins and the chi-chi sundress.”
“You got it.” He started in quintessential Winnie story mode with an animated description of a beaded sundress and strappy sandals.
I closed my eyes, humming every now and again as melancholy covered me in a gossamer veil, threatening to choke the life out of me. I ached inside and out. And I ached for Graham.
I’d learned a long time ago that I couldn’t make someone love me, but it was different for him. He didn’t believe anyone should love him. I didn’t know how to fix that or if I ever could.
19
GRAHAM
“Thank you for your time today, Mr. Horsham.”
“My pleasure.” I smiled cordially at The Times reporter and tried to ignore the incessant clink of her spoon against her teacup.
My board had agreed it would be in our best interest to address our failed acquisition up front rather than letting the financial world speculate about what had gone wrong.
“This past week has been a stormy one and the markets are still in upheaval over M and C’s announcement. Is there any chance of renewing negotiations?” she asked, finally setting her cup on the end table.
“Doubtful, I’m afraid. We’d certainly be amenable to further discussion, however slim that chance might be.”
Christ, you’d think I was a member of the royal fucking family. My accent dripped with a regal polish that would’ve made my mother and siblings cackle with glee. If Raine were here, he’d request me to repeat myself in a Mackem accent or—
No. Stop. I couldn’t think about him. Not now.
The young woman smoothed her skirt and fiddled with her recording device nervously. “Gilbert Blower publicly asserted there was ill will between your firms that ultimately made the alliance difficult. Is there any truth to that statement?”
My lips curved into a lopsided grin I knew didn’t reach my eyes. “There was no difficulty on our end.”
“But was there any personal animosity?” she needled, no doubt hoping for a titillating caption for her readership.
“This is business. It’s never personal,” I lied.
She probably didn’t believe that for a moment, but it didn’t matter. That was the story she was getting. The Horsham Group had officially moved on.
Me? Well, I was…trying.
Failure was a hard pill to swallow, especially as I suspected I’d been set up from the start. After over a year of bartering and haggling over minute stipulations, I’d been sure that we’d covered every possible angle and there was no way Mint and Cooperton could afford not to take our offer. Even if the CEO hated my fucking guts.
I hadn’t counted on that greedy bastard selling for less to an American firm. I hadn’t counted on his board agreeing with him. So…I lost.
And yes, I was livid. I wanted to roast him to the press, call him out for being a disgraceful businessman and a worthless excuse for a human, but I was a professional. Our firm would write off the loss and tackle our next merger, while I privately stewed in anger, devising a new plan to destroy Blower once and for all.
But honestly, Blower was the last person on my mind.
All I could think about was Raine and the look on his face when he walked out my door.
You’re a good man, G. The best.
Was I?
No, and I was bloody miserable without him. My bed was too big, too empty. My house was too quiet. The toothbrush I’d given him taunted me every morning and every night. Why isn’t he here? What kind of idiot sends someone like that away? A hopeless one.
I’d survived the past week on caffeine and willpower, churning out inspirational speeches to worried employees, assuring them that we were solidly positioned to weather a loss. I liked to think it was working. Everyone was cautiously chipper and I assumed my invitation to Julia’s going-away party at a local pub was a sign that they still believed in me.
I’d never been invited to happy hours or birthday celebrations, and that was more than okay by me. But Julia was my assistant, and under the present circumstances, it seemed wise to show my face. So I did.
And yes, I secretly hoped Raine would be there.
Bernadette told me he’d been invited, which made sense. Julia adored him. Hell, my entire company adored him. I stood awkwardly on the outside of conversations, holding a pint with my eyes fixed on the door. But he hadn’t shown up.
I heard later that he’d started a new job as a research assistant for a respected historian. My heart swelled with pride for him. I thought about texting a quick congratulations. That should have been easy enough, but my fingers felt like sausages on my keyboard and I struggled with words.