Change in Strategy: An Office Romance (Change of Hearts Book 2)

by Sierra Hill

  I see her at a booth in the back as I enter the front of the restaurant and head over to her as she glances up and smiles.

  Pretty woman, a few years older than me, with striking features and auburn hair, dressed conservatively yet very chic.

  “Good morning, Charlotte. So good to see you again.” I lean down and offer my hand which she accepts, and then place a peck on her cheek. She smiles, shaking firmly before returning to her seat.

  “I ordered a pot of coffee, but if you prefer tea or juice, we can definitely get that.”

  “Coffee is great,” I say, spilling a little on the white tablecloth in my hurry to fill my cup. “Sorry. I had a pretty sleepless night.”

  She offers me a sympathetic look, patting my forearm in an effort to bond. “Oh, I completely understand how it is. Even though I’ve been doing this for years, the traveling and hotel beds can be so uncomfortable, it’s hard to get a decent night’s sleep.”

  I obviously stay mute on the reasons for my sleeplessness and instead take a large gulp of the hot caffeinated drink. That’s a little better. I’m sure the dark circles under my eyes are extremely glaring and noticeable under these bright lights.

  We end up ordering and make small talk about how she’s been doing, how the business is growing, where she’s been traveling, etc. The waiter delivers our breakfasts and we get down to business. She wants to pick up our distribution channels for Europe, offering me a very lucrative deal if I sign with her for five years.

  “How will you adjust this fixed agreement with the changes that are likely to come with the future EU trade regulations?”

  She hmms and hahs with all the typical sales spiel bullshit but makes a few good points about the recent impacts on Brexit and US and EU Custom’s changes, along with VAT implications to my business. It’s our never-ending tax laws at work.

  At one point, she plucks her tablet out from her bag next to her feet and scoots in closer to show me the numbers related to their recent merger and acquisition, which she feels gives them an advantage to offer me the exporting services I need.

  We talk over the legal aspects of the contract she places in front of me once our plates are taken away, and I mention that I’ll need my corporate attorney to look it over first. Charlotte makes a joke about lawyers, once again leaning in close, hand now on my shoulder with a familiarity that we really don’t share and laughs like it’s the funniest thing she’s ever said in her life.

  Out of courtesy, I smile and laugh, and am ready to wave down the waiter when out of the corner of my eye I see Peyton. She’s just walked into the restaurant, standing in the entryway looking gorgeous and good enough to eat.

  From my position at the table, I see the bright blues of her eyes flash with something I can’t describe, but it looks like panic. I wave her over, gesturing her to come see me, but she shakes her head and holds up her phone cryptically.

  I have no idea what it means until I feel my phone vibrate and I glance down to the phone on the table.

  It flashes with a text from Peyton.

  When I look back up, a little bewildered, it appears Peyton has vanished and is no longer in view.

  I read the text and immediately rise to leave to go after her.

  Peyton: I have an emergency. I need to go.

  “Excuse me Charlotte. I don’t mean to rush off, but I have a situation I need to deal with right now. It was great catching up with you and I’ll be waiting for that contract. Take care.”

  We shake hands before I grab my suit jacket from the coat rack hook and practically speed walk out the door to find Peyton.

  Once in the lobby, I search in every direction for Peyton. My eyes dart to the elevators where conference attendees get off in droves, and then swing around to the front hotel entrance. And that’s when I see her.

  She’s handing her bag to the cab driver and then climbs in the backseat.

  In my haste to get to her, I nearly knock over a woman with a small child, bumbling my regrets and apologies, and make it to the front door just as the cab drives off.

  What the fuck? Where the hell is she going?

  I stand there completely dumbfounded and type out my text.

  Where are you going? What emergency?

  It seems like forever, but it’s only a few seconds until I see the dots pop up that she’s typing.

  Peyton: Back to Phoenix. I’m sorry.

  Chapter 27

  Peyton

  The scene I just witnessed in the restaurant between Brody and that beautiful woman keeps replaying over and over in my head, as I try using logic to figure out what I saw. There are a number of different explanations, but my imagination devises the worst-case scenario possible and the one that injures my heart like it’s been run over by a monster truck.

  The worst case is that Brody left me in my bed this morning and immediately met up with another woman.

  None of it matters at the moment, however, because I have other pressing matters weighing heavily on my mind right now.

  When I finally woke this morning, a little sore and deliriously happy with a goofy smile plastered across my face, I checked my phone hoping Brody left me a good morning message since he wasn’t in bed or still in my room. I’d felt an odd tinge of disappointment, but assumed he was in a hurry due to his morning agenda.

  While there was nothing from Brody’s number, my mom’s unopened voicemail was a reminder that I still hadn’t had a chance to listen to it yesterday because of the swirl of activity, which of course culminated with a night in bed with Brody.

  A large, foreboding ache the size of the Empire State building hit me in the gut, churning so viciously that I felt like I might vomit. I sat down on my bed, played the message and felt the world once again tilt on its axis to send me careening off the side.

  I quickly got showered, dressed and packed and then went on my hunt to find Brody before I left.

  Locating him proved difficult. I’d tried knocking on his door several times, calling him to no avail and texting with no response. That’s when I stopped by the restaurant in search of him after having raced around the conference and ballrooms thinking he might have been there preparing for his speech. But when I finally located him in the back of the dining room, he was smiling and laughing with a beautiful woman.

  And I fell apart.

  Simply and completely broke apart, leaving my heart and self-respect on the lobby floor as I dashed outside to my awaiting cab.

  I felt stupid and naïve and utterly used.

  And now? I just feel numb.

  I landed in Phoenix after the eight-hour flight and two-stop trip, exhausted and broke. The short notice ticket out of JFK nearly depleted my bank account and I’d used up the majority of the internship money I’d earned up to this point.

  I tried shutting down and pretending I wasn’t hurt after seeing Brody with that woman and the way they intimately responded to each other. Their interaction played on a repeat in my head, all while I also imagined and worried about what I would find when I got home to my mom’s house.

  The message she’d left was me clearly a cry for help. She needed me. While she’d grown stronger and more buoyant while Dave was locked up in jail, she still battled a heavy dose of fear.

  Fear that she’d relapse and start drinking again. And terrified that Dave would find her and kill her.

  Her voice was weak, a whisper of terror in the message she left me. “Peyton. He’s out. I don’t know if I can live with this. I need to find somewhere safe.”

  There was no question that I had to fly home. Nothing else mattered except making sure my mom was in a safe place and that monster couldn’t find her again. I knew in the back of my mind that it would not bode well for me, but in that split-second decision, Brody didn’t matter, the internship wasn’t a priority, and the possibility of not graduating on time didn’t matter, either.

  My mom didn’t have anyone else to turn to and I had to be there to help. Family mattered.

 
I called Kyler during my connection in the Atlanta airport and asked him for a ride from the Phoenix airport when I arrived. Finding him waiting for me by the baggage carousel now has the tears welling in my eyes as I run into his arms for a long sympathetic hug.

  The dam breaks loose and I begin sobbing uncontrollably, my body shaking in his arms, the friendship between us a flotation device for my drowning spirit.

  “Pey-Pey, sweetie. You’re okay now. I’ve got you. Everything will work out, I promise.”

  I sniffle and finally let go, brushing away the damp circle of tears I’ve left on his collar.

  He picks up my bag, gives me a pitying look accompanied by the tilt of his head and the cock of his eyebrow.

  “Rule number one about men who break our hearts.” He swirls an expressive hand in the vicinity of my face and rumpled attire. “You must never allow it to affect your appearance. You can’t be looking like a wilted, trampled on flower.”

  He pauses for a minute and then says, his eyes scanning over me. “Or in your case, like shit.”

  I scoff and give him a hard shove in the back of his shoulder. “Shut up, you brat. I’m exhausted from no sleep and an eight-hour trip through three time zones. It’s impossible for anyone to look decent after all that.”

  Kyler harrumphs and twerks a shoulder at me as we walk through the Mezzanine and out the door toward the car lot. I clasp onto his elbow, sliding my arm through it as we walk. It feels good to be home, even under these difficult circumstances, uncertain of what I will find with my mom and knowing I left behind a mess in New York. But I’m with my best friend and roommate who loves me and is here for me when I need him.

  “I’ve missed your sweet sassy ass, boo,” he whines, hoisting my bags in the backseat of his little blue Mazda as we get buckled in the front seat. “Although I’ve rather enjoyed indulging in the revolving door of men in and out of our love shack while you’ve been gone, but I’ve still been lonely without you there.”

  I make a disgusted face and fake gagging noise. “If I find any used condoms in our apartment, I will ban you for life.”

  Kyler gives me the finger and sticks out his tongue in a bratty gesture but then his face contorts into wild excitement.

  He grabs my hand, palming it into a fist and shakes it enthusiastically, practically bouncing in his seat as he winds his way through the chaos of the airport drive.

  “Speaking of condoms, girl…tell me all the sordid details about your night of debauchery. I want to hear all about it.”

  With all the nervous excitement I’d felt last night before Brody got to my room, knowing I’d be losing my virginity, I’d texted Kyler to tell him it was finally happening. He texted back with three eggplant emojis and a donut and said, ‘Call me later!!!’

  Well, later was after everything else happened and he only got a small dose of the reality as it set in when I finally texted him from Atlanta.

  Sighing heavily, I let my head hang and the tears start to fall again.

  “It was perfect.”

  In my periphery vision I see Kyler turn his head to the side and frown. “Oh, boo. I don’t want you to hurt. I’m sure there is a very plausible explanation for everything. But to find out, you have to give Brody a chance to explain.”

  He drops my hand and points to my phone in the bag at my feet. It’s been blowing up since I landed with messages and texts. The last I checked there were ten text messages from Brody, two voicemails, and an email from Jessica Yu in human resources. I’d sent her an email while I was mid-flight to explain that I had to return home for a family emergency and that I might need to take a short leave of absence. Or quit my internship altogether if they couldn’t accommodate.

  I checked my Inbox and found a response from HR, in which she said I could absolutely take the leave and to notify her when I was able to return. She also said my last-minute flight would be reimbursed since I was out of state on business when it occurred. That part was a relief and I nearly sobbed with gratitude.

  As for Brody’s messages, I just couldn’t answer them right now. I needed to get things handled with my mom first.

  But I didn’t want Brody to worry, either. That wouldn’t be fair to him, as either my lover or my boss. He should know why his intern has suddenly disappeared from the conference she was scheduled to attend. So, I did text him a short response.

  I’m sorry to have left so abruptly, but my stepfather was just released from jail. I need to be home for my mother.

  Chapter 28

  Brody

  The entire presentation and keynote speech are a blur. I’m not even sure what I said or if I stuck to script, or how I responded to audience questions.

  All I remember is the feeling of urgency to get the hell out of there so I could track down Peyton.

  I paced back in forth in the lobby for over two hours, hoping she’d miraculously return and step through the revolving entrance with an explanation. Those hopes were dashed when I later learned she took a flight back to Phoenix to be with her mother because her stepfather had unexpectedly gotten out of jail.

  Jail.

  I flipped through our conversation last night when Peyton told me of her childhood and her stepfather. All she said was that he was a mean son-of-a-bitch to her mother and that they were divorced, never mentioning anything about him being in prison.

  I figured at this point, I had two choices. The first involves doing some research into Peyton’s stepfather. The second is to fly to Phoenix to find out what the hell is going on and to make sure she is safe.

  There are gaps in what I know about Peyton’s past, and one includes her stepfather’s last name. I have no idea whether she shares the same last name with him or not. So, like any concerned, bordering on the side of stalkerish boss would do, I retrieve her personnel records from our online database and look for her mother’s contact information.

  Paula Burke-Wetherby.

  Bingo.

  Now that I know the last name, presumably her mother’s married name, I type in a search for David Wetherby, Phoenix Arizona. And holy fuck. What I read makes me sick to my stomach.

  Apparently, David had several arrests over the previous five years, all related to domestic abuse and violence, which led to a restraining order. He’d also had minor drug trafficking infractions and possession arrests, but none of them seemed to stick, and the pattern continued. Until the incident that led to his arrest and subsequent jail time.

  As I read through the local news stories from a year ago, my uneasiness grows with each bit of information I gleam from the reports. With the truth uncovered, there is no doubt in my mind that I will be making the journey to Phoenix to check on Peyton’s safety.

  Because this man – her former stepfather – is not a man who would let the flimsy rules of parole or a restraining order keep him from retribution. Which in my mind puts Peyton in the crosshairs of his main target, her mother.

  A lump lodges in the back of my throat as I connect with the online travel agent and book a flight to Phoenix. I also search Peyton’s home address in Tempe from her file which will be my first stop once I arrive.

  I fire off a text to my mother, letting her know I’ll be coming in on business and would love to stay the night, if I can make it work. I don’t get a response right away, but that doesn’t concern me. My mother is an extremely active senior who is likely out with a bridge group somewhere or a Red Hat ladies’ luncheon.

  Lastly, I place a call to my friend, Garrett Parker, who is a former NBA basketball player now coaching men’s college ball at ASU and just so happens to be my mother’s neighbor in Scottsdale. My dad purchased the home fifteen years earlier and when he and my mom divorced, my mother got the home in the settlement and now lives there fulltime.

  The irony in all this is that I knew Garrett before he even became my mother’s neighbor. Our business had been contracted by a few NBA teams to design and tailor suits for their players. Because of their size and stature, most of these giants can
’t just walk into a department store and purchase an off-the-rack garment.

  After that, Garrett and I became friends and whenever he was in L.A. for games, we’d meet up and have a beer. I’d, of course, reached out to him when I’d learned of the tragedy of his wife and son. And when he decided to move to Phoenix, I gave him the contact info for the real estate agent my mother used, and he bought the home next to hers. Small, small world.

  As I pull up Garrett’s number, I stare at the time on the clock as it rings. It’s not too early there that I’d wake him up. Since it’s the off-season for college basketball, I assume I’ll find him hanging at home his son, Caleb and his fiancée, Brooklyn.

  “Yo, Jensen! What’s up, my man? Good to hear from you. What’s going on?”

  I can hear splashing in the background. They must be out by the pool.

  “Hey man, good to hear you, too. I’ve been meaning to call you for months, but you know how it goes, work, work, work.”

  He chuckles. “Okay, Rihanna.”

  I’m not sure I get the reference, but I laugh anyway. “Yeah, yeah. Sorry. I’m also overdue in saying congrats on your engagement. I’m so happy for you and Caleb. You deserve all the best, bro.”

  With everything that Garrett and his son went through a few years ago, it’s a wonder that he’s in such a great spot in life now. He’s coaching college ball; his son has made huge improvements with his disability and I have no doubt that much of it has to do with his new fiancée who has changed all of their lives for the better.

  I hear some chatter in the background, Garrett clearly talking to his son. Based on the tone of his voice and the warning issued, his son is probably doing something he shouldn’t be doing, “Be careful, Caleb and no running.”

  He returns on the line with me. “Sorry about that. So, to what do I owe this pleasure?”

  “Well, I might need a favor,” I begin, zipping up the top of my toiletry bag and shoving it in my carry-on. “I have an intern who might need some legal help. It’s a domestic matter and since you’ve been through something equivalent with your ex, I was hoping you could refer me to your attorney.”