What If

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What If Page 13

by Dani Wyatt


  “You earned your checks, man. You turned this business around in the last ten years. I just hope I don’t fuck it up. You ever want to come back, no questions. The whole wine business thing with Cindy—” He laughs and pushes back in his chair with a knowing grin. “We both know you’re just there to get her started. Hell, you don’t even drink…”

  He busts out with a hearty laugh as I back away toward the closed door, anxious to get back outside in the fresh air. I’m done. The room starts to feel smaller and smaller, and my heart is starting to pump faster knowing the sympathetic stares and averted eyes I’m going to get from the staff when I walk back toward the elevator.

  “Hey, it’s something to do. Cindy needed some help. I’m a glorified gopher over there, but if she needs me, I’ll stick around for as long as she wants.”

  “So now both of you are off doing your wine thing and I’m here steering the ship. Not sure that’s what Dad had in mind when he left the company to all of us.”

  “Cindy never cared about blowing shit up. She’s happy as hell now that she’s bought the distributorship.”

  She’s doing well. She has around seventy employees and the new building is almost ready. The warehouse is state of the art. Ten sections kept at perfect temperatures for the different kinds of wine. Fuck if I know anything about it, but she’s in hog heaven. I just do what I’m told and that’s fine for now. Keeps me busy. I can even bring my two mutts, Tinder and Leopold along to the offices.

  I’m almost to the door when I turn around one last time to see Erik look at his watch then his fingers click on his keyboard.

  “Okay.” Erik stops typing and reaches up to the ceiling, stretching and leaning side to side. “Well, I have work to do. You go run your little errands for sissy and take care of those in need and those vicious dogs of yours. I’ll be here blowing shit up.”

  As I turn, I can’t help but think of where I want to be. Who I want to be talking to. I step forward, my gait slightly off balance. My fingers grip the cool metal handle of the door and a rush of blood streams down south. I know when I leave here my next stop will be to see her.

  I lean to my right. The pressure from my prosthetic needs adjusting. Finding a specialist that could form fit and teach a six-foot-seven-inch, three-hundred-and-seventeen-pound man how to walk again with the bottom of one leg blown off hasn’t been an easy road.

  Erik pushes back from his place behind the desk and steps forward as I start to open the door. I pivot taking one quick look back his way. Squinting into the morning sun as it streams through the floor-to-ceiling windows.

  “One more thing.” His voice changes, the lightness gone.

  He nods slightly and looks down at a thick folder at the corner of the desk. For some reason he can’t meet my eyes.

  Our mutual discomfort heightened by the fact that one black boot is sticking out from under the hem of my charcoal gray slacks. Where the other boot should be, there’s just slick, curved metal.

  “We settled the last of the claim.” He flips up the corner of the folder, then closes it again. “It’s done. I know you don’t want to talk about it, but I wanted you to know. It wasn’t your fault, but we settled and accepted all of their terms just as you asked. Now, you just need to settle it with yourself, Magnus. It was an accident. You weren’t at fault.”

  I sniff. My hand tenses on the door handle, the veins traversing the bones leading to each finger in thick rivers. My desire to turn the knob falters as the words tumble out of my mouth. “Tell that to Sarah Templeton.” My head starts to pound. “Oh wait, you can’t, can you?”

  I force my wrist to turn my hand.

  The click of the handle, the blast of air as I jerk open the door. I feel like I’m watching the whole thing from somewhere else. The irony of the entire situation is that Sarah’s piece of shit mother came out of the woodwork after her daughter died. Found some TV attorney to take her case of wrongful death against me and the corporation. Erik wanted it to go to trial, but I put my foot down. We paid off that worthless bitch because there was no way I was letting Sarah’s name be dragged through the mud. Her mother did jack shit for her until she was dead, then all of a sudden she was the grieving, long suffering, maternal figure. Sarah deserves some peace, even now. The ancillary benefit of settling out of court was it kept both Sarah and the entire sad event out of the media.

  I shoot off one final barb. “Doesn’t feel settled to me.”

  Erik shakes his head and looks down, but I finally walk away. I turn the corner out of his office away from the elevators and onto the stairs, sparing us all the forced smiles and averted eyes on my way out.

  AVAILABLE NOW ON AMAZON

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  About Dani

  Dani Wyatt used to feel bad about having such dirty thoughts. Luckily, one day she decided to start writing them down. Her uber alpha heros have a wicked possessive streak and an insatiable libido. Her heroines are intelligent, quirky and worry about having too much muffin top. With her books, you can count on a heaping helping of HOT, a dash of rough and always a happily ever after.

  When she's not writing (which is not often) she is probably laughing about some irony (like A-1 Steak Sauce is vegan), riding her horse, wondering why The Walking Dead can't have a new episode every night, or looking cross-eyed at some piece of technology sent to ruin her day

  Thank You.

  I have so many amazing people I’ve met since I started putting my

  naughty thoughts on the page. To some of the first fans who supported me, the bloggers,

  fellow authors who have been more than generous with their

  time and opinions as well as the other professionals that

  put up with my particular kind of crazy, thank you.

  …you guys remind me

  Every day that when we support each other everyone wins.

  xoxoxo

 

 

 


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