Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 91507 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 458(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91507 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 458(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
Hop was closed off to him again. As soon as he walked out the door, their relationship would be over. But he couldn’t stay. He couldn’t build something solid on a foundation full of cracks.
“So go.”
“I’ll send a driver to take you home.”
“No.”
Right. That was it then. Rafe didn’t say another word, but his feet dragged as he left Hop standing alone in the dressing room. Walking away was the hardest thing he’d ever done in his entire life.
But he did it.
* * *
Prince wasn’t in the VIP section when Rafe got there.
He searched everywhere, the bar, the bathrooms, the dance floor, and there was no sign of the flashy designer or his assistant anywhere in the club. He found Mark near the front and pulled him aside.
“Where’s Prince?”
Mark looked worried, which ratcheted up Rafe’s anxiety another level. “He left.”
“Left? When?”
“About ten minutes ago.”
Great, just what he needed. “Did he say anything?”
“No, not a word. I tried to wave him down, but I was across the club dealing with those rich jerks.”
“Damn it.” He slammed his hand down on the back of a chair and squeezed the metal until his knuckles turned white.
“He didn’t look happy, boss.”
“I’ll take care of it.” How? How the fuck could he fix this? “Don’t worry.” He left Mark and locked himself in his office.
Breathe, Marson. Step one, get in touch with Prince. Gigi’s number was on speed dial. While it rang, he poured himself a drink.
“You’ve reached Gigi. I can’t come to the phone right now. If you’re calling to set up an appointment with Parker Prince, please leave a message and I’ll get back to you when convenient. All other inquiries should go through the contact form on our website.”
Rafe waited for the beep then said, “Gigi, this is Rafe Marson. I’m calling to apologize about this evening. I hope Mr. Prince was still able to enjoy the show. Please contact me as soon as possible so we can discuss the contract.”
He hung up and chugged the contents of his glass. The burn of alcohol was weak in comparison to the ache in his heart. He sat at his desk, shoulders sagging with the heavy burden that fell upon them. Would this have happened if he’d never touched Hop? Was this all because he’d been greedy? Or because his attention had been diverted?
Was this his punishment for trying to have a life that didn’t revolve around work?
Since his father’s death he’d endeavored to be responsible, to sacrifice for his goals, to be diligent and focused because he’d believed that his effort would pay off. He’d put his life on hold for business, always telling himself later. Later he’d date. Later he’d fall in love. Later he’d get married, have kids. Be happy.
But what if later never came? What if happiness happened in the little moments and he’d been too busy to recognize them for what they were?
He rested his face in his hands. Fucking Malcolm. He’d always hated that kid, but now he was considering murder and planning ways to dispose of the body.
Everything that happened tonight could be traced back to one moment—the day he’d told Roland that first lie to save a kid who looked at him with bright blue eyes like he was some kind of hero. He hadn’t been able to stop himself from caring about that kid just as he’d been incapable of staying away from his cotton-candy fantasy.
But that lie changed everything. He’d begun looking at his mentor with new eyes, and he didn’t like what he saw. His resentment grew and grew until it became all-encompassing and his entire purpose morphed into something he hadn’t recognized at first.
If it hadn’t been for that one day, he would have remained Roland’s loyal puppet forever.
So, did he blame Hop or thank him?
Rafe groaned. He didn’t know. Both. In truth, he wouldn’t change the past, even if he could. His father had raised him to be honorable, and there had been nothing honorable in the way Roland had treated his firstborn son. No, Rafe didn’t blame Hop.
But he couldn’t thank him either.
Not yet.
Maybe not ever.
His phone rang and Rafe lifted it to his ear without checking the ID. “Hello?”
“Rafe, dear.” She didn’t sound happy.
“Gigi, please tell me he’s not totally pissed off.”
“Sorry, we won’t be hosting the launch at your club.”
“Why?”
“Prince has a problem doing business with those people. He comes from poverty, not many people know that. He won’t have anything to do with a family like the Lockwoods.”
Rafe’s head dropped to his hand. “You recognized him?”
“Just the name. I know how he is so I couldn’t let it go.”
“There has to be something I can do, please.”
“I’m afraid the only way to change his mind is to cut ties.”
“That’s what I’m trying to do.” He couldn’t help the rise in his voice. “Let me talk to him. I’ll explain everything.”