Forgotten Promise (Forgotten Series Book 2)

by Virginia Wine

  “You look like shit.” Claytons starts in.

  “Imagine that.” Not wanting to rehash last night.

  “It’s not like she was married before, Nathan.” He continues.

  “Okay, Clayton, I don’t need you busting my balls right now.”

  “Duly noted.” And turns towards his computer, going over imaginary work.

  Fine, I’ll take the quiet. I dive into the paperwork that has been sitting here for over a week. Bills, payroll, mail—all in one big fucking mess.

  “I was wondering when you were getting to that.” Speaking but his eyes never leave the computer.

  “Would you just stop?” Anger starting to bubble in the pit of my stomach again.

  “Uh huh, leaving,” he says quickly, closing the door behind him, knowing I always leave it open.

  My attention engrossed in emails, invoices and client dues. My phone rings, unknown blinking on the screen. Unknown is always a bad surprise. “Nathan James,” I answer.

  “Nathan, Dawson Kendrick.”

  God damnit. “Mr. Kendrick, what can I do for you?” The lack of respect obvious in my tone, intentionally.

  “The same request I asked last month. Your father wants to see you, and as his lawyer, I can make it happen.”

  Bile in my stomach surfacing at the thought. “As I’ve stated before, and I believe every time we’ve spoken, the answer is no.” Considering just hanging up on him, fucking lawyer can’t take no for an answer. Jesus, I’m surrounded by unethical lawyers, giving this profession a black eye.

  “He hasn’t given up on you, Nathan, you’re his son.”

  Thank fuck, I’m not. “You do understand what my father has done, correct?’

  “Allegedly.”

  Ah, another lawyer word, fuck him. “Mr. Kendrick, I’m the prosecution’s star witness. Isn’t there some conflict of interest here?”

  ‘I’ve taken care of that.”

  Of course he has. “You mean my father’s money has.” The rudeness not easing my anxiety.

  “He’s looking for closure, for you too. To give you peace, Nathan.”

  Fucking lawyers, this is wrong on so many levels. “When?”

  “Today.”

  I scoff. “Afraid I’ll change my mind?”

  “Yes. Four o’clock.” He hangs up.

  My phone still pressed to my ear. “Fucking perfect.”

  I’m driving to a prison. What in God’s name am I doing? The turmoil abruptly rising. Trying so desperately to calm myself before the devil consumes me.

  I’m checked in, scanned, frisked with blatant suspicion, I should have brought a file in a cake to give them something to do. I’m ushered through one locked door after another. The loud clang startles me every time they shut. It’s cold, evidently you don’t get heat if you commit a crime. That’s fair.

  “Wait here.”

  The guard nodding to the miniature chair where I’m to sit, and a table with a glass partition. I’ve lost my mind, I say to myself, as I take a seat. The silence is deafening, chilling—this was a bad idea. Then I see him slowly walking, his hands up in surrender, as he’s looking at me. The sharp stare of caution apparent on his face.

  He touches the glass, but I do nothing in response. He motions for the phone. I pick it up.

  “Son.”

  “This is awkward.” I begin, he nods in agreement.

  He leans in close to the glass, too close. “I’m sorry I’ve disappointed you.”

  I let out a loud breath in hopes to steady my words. “Disappointed me?” How fucking dare the bastard!

  “I know I’ve hurt you.”

  “Do you? I don’t think so.” Trembling over his cavalier attitude. “You wreaked havoc on my life, took my mother from me. Lied, schemed, and all without a second thought. What kind of man does that?” Not really looking for an answer, I already know what kind of man does that, a wicked cruel human being with no morals, a narcissist who has never been held accountable for anything in his life. Until now.

  “I don’t pretend to be someone I’m not.”

  I kick myself for agreeing to do this.

  “That was then, things were different.”

  I cut him off. “No, you’re wrong, nothing’s changed for me, then, or now. I was there, I know the truth. I only want to know one thing. Why? You could have divorced her. Left her, left me. We would have been alright.”

  “I would have lost you,” he says quietly, but he can’t look me in the face.

  Coward.

  He taps his finger on the table and we both watch as he continues this nervous habit.

  Although alI I can hear is silence. “Why did you want me here?” To fuck with my mind, but he’ll never admit it.

  Silence.

  “Ashamed? Are you sorry for what you’ve done?” Then it occurs to me. “Do you want my forgiveness? Is that why I’m here?” His watery eyes say it all. “NO.” I stand. “AM. I. UNDERSTOOD? You’ll never get it.”

  I slam the phone down, Good fucking riddance. “This just keeps getting better.” I don’t look back. I storm out of there with purpose, unknown purpose. I drive back home where now I have to face Bryer. Fucking great.

  Chapter Seven

  ~Bryer~

  Sitting at my desk, I make a decision. I would face Cash, give him the ring, then go ballistic on him, confront the man who has hurt me more than once. As I muster the courage, my hand trembles as the phone sits in my hand. I press his number and take a small calming breath.

  “So, the engagement ring did it,” Cash answers.

  What an ass. “On the contrary, I’m not sure what you think you’ve accomplished, but I’ll be giving the ring back, again. Meet me at the coffee shop across the street from my work, now.” I order.

  “Then I accomplished exactly what I set out to.” He hangs up.

  That man is so infuriating I have to find a way to stop him from getting under my skin. He’s such a dirty player, I’m no match for that level of dysfunction. I grab my coat, the bite of winter is coming, I’ve never been a fan of the cold. The way the early darkness comes too soon, all consuming. The cloudy depressing days, the gloomy day changes everything, it changes me. The irony doesn’t escape me, I just described how I feel about Cash.

  I realize security won’t see me leave the building from this entrance, maybe I should have alerted him of my whereabouts. But I’ll be across the street, in a public place, surrounded by over a dozen people. He’s a phone call away. So I dismiss it.

  I run across the street holding my coat together for warmth, I think I see a few flurries. I order the strongest cup of coffee, add my special ingredients, and take a seat. On second thought, a little Bailey’s would have been the smarter choice.

  “Typical.” I see a black Limo pulling up, and the driver hurries to open the back door. As he climbs out, I notice every detail, as if it’s all happening in slow motion, still the same dark suit dressed to perfection, not a hair out of place, his coat lifting in the cold breeze, expensive everything. I would bet his watch cost more than my car. Then, I’m slammed in the face with the realization of my actions. Face-to-face with Cash.

  “May I?”

  Always so polite, fake charm oozing out of every pore. “Fine.” Feeling annoyed. “I have some questions for you.”

  “Fire away.”

  His confidence as powerful as I remembered, watching him take off his coat, straighten his suit and sit. His hands entwine naturally resting on the table, an arrogant air surrounds him, and he knows he’s in control. We both know. “The ring, why?” I ask, no beating around the bush, he doesn’t deserve a soft interrogation.

  His eyes narrow into slits of irritation. “It’s obvious, isn’t it, Bryer? You’re a smart girl, it got you here.” Cynicism in his voice.

  “And that is the ultimate goal, Cash, getting me here? Why, is there more?”

  “Your mother, didn’t your boyfriend give you the message?” Internally smirking, as our eyes meet.


  “Of course he did, but you failed to offer any details, other than your cryptic few words.” He’s playing me with a game I want no part of. But that’s what he does, he’s a master of manipulation.

  “This is a private matter.”

  Those words aren’t sitting well with me, while he runs his hands through his blond hair, messing it just enough to be a distraction. “I don’t quite follow you, stop acting like a lawyer circling around the truth, and just tell me. That’s why I’m here, isn’t it?” Recognizing his way of handling someone.

  “There was a time when I had you twisted around my little finger.” He smiles, reaching for a piece of hair that has fallen close to my face.

  “Stop, you gave up the right to touch me long ago.” Knocking his hand away before it touches me.

  “Right.” Pausing to evaluate the rejection. A feeling that is foreign to Cash.

  “My secretary alerted me a box delivered to the home I’ve rented while I stay in town. As you well know, I prefer to work comfortably, instead of in a crowed stuffy office.” He shrugs.

  “I remember, I made the reservations many times.” Attempting to stay away from the memories flooding in.

  “They are still setting it up for me, so I’ve been forced to stay at the Chase.”

  “Roughing it I see,” I say sarcastically, under my breath.

  “It’s a box with your mother’s things.”

  I look up in wonder, disbelief at the possibility, the hopeful little girl living inside me screaming to get out. If he’s lying then I won’t be responsible for my actions.

  “I’m afraid I don’t understand, I lost her years ago.” As I shake my head no.

  “I understand the lawyer who handle your mothers “estate” passed away. He failed to give it to you.” Cash casually answers as if this wouldn’t mean the world to me.

  Yet, still uncertain if I fully comprehend the gravity of his words, I sit in silence. I’ve longed for a piece of her, a new memory, her soft touch. He can’t possibly understand the importance of this.

  “If this is true, what are you waiting for? I need to see it.” I burst out.

  “I haven’t been by the house, I only know it’s there. We can go get it now.” He innocently offers, rising to leave before I agree.

  Bells, whistles and alarms are going off in my head. No fucking way will I go anywhere with Cash. I’m desperate for that box so I have to find a way. I could follow him, with the security guy who drove me this morning. But, do I want Nathan to hear it from him, or me? Definitely me. A whirlwind in my head, and I know Cash is sitting back, watching it play out. “I don’t know how comfortable I would be going with you, Cash, and I’m positive Nathan would have something to say about it also.”

  Pausing, still searching for the perfect plan. “Especially after the stunt you pulled yesterday, I’m surprised you’re still walking around on your own two feet.” Nathan beating him to a pulp would not be beneath him.

  “Oh darlin’, I can take care of myself. I’m not worried about your boyfriend.”

  Pretentious as always. “Stop with the darlin’, Cash.” Sounding self-assured, but inside I’m anything but. I can see it now: Nathan, sir, your girlfriend just drove off with Cash. No, I need to tell him. I know it’s compulsive, but I have to know what’s in that box. If I go with him, I’m trapped and that’s what worries me.

  “I don’t have all day, Bryer. It’s up to me to witness you sign off on this and get the paperwork back to the office. You have five minutes. I’ll be in the car.”

  And I watch as he walks away. “Call him, just call him.” Dialing his number. It goes straight to voicemail. I won’t leave a message. There’ll be hell to pay after last night but I’m going. I’ll try him again in the car. I’ll only be a phone call away.

  By this time Cash has already reached the car, waiting.

  Assuming I will follow. Conceited fuck.

  Cash sees me and opens the door, naturally assuming he’s getting his way. He’s got that wrong, I’ll be in and out. A mixture of fear and something I can’t name is confusing my assessment of the situation about to unfold. A snowflake lands on his eyelash, and I have the most natural desire to brush it away, but stop before I reach his face. What was that? I hit redial, voice mail again. I sigh in frustration.

  “Missing boyfriend? Don’t cha’ just hate that?” Cash smirks.

  “Zip it, I don’t need a commentary.” I have to admit, he’s right though, missing boyfriend is making me nervous.

  “Don’t get yourself all bent out of shape now.” Checking his own phone, and taking his attention away from me for a split second.

  I text Gen, knowing she’s at work.

  Bryer: Cash’s firm has found a missing box that was my mother’s..

  Tumblina: Where are you going?” her response is immediate

  Bryer: To Cash’s office

  Tumblina: Alone?

  Bryer: No, with Cash.

  Tumblina: Have you lost your fucking mind?

  Bryer: yes.

  “How much longer?” It’s starting to snow and we’ve been on the highway for what seems like hours. I feel as if I’m suffocating in the back seat with him.

  “Not sure, I’ve only been there once. I told you it wasn’t set up yet.”

  Easily discarding my worry. His familiar scent clings to me, and recollections I thought I had long buried start to surface. I push them down, but the day comes back to me like a lightning strike.

  Remembering the ring. I start digging through my purse and feeling the anger from last night.

  “Here.” Shoving the small box in his face. “I don’t want it.”

  “We’ve never talked about this, Bryer.”

  My arm hanging in midair. “Maybe because the last time I saw you, you had your dick in some other woman.”

  He whips his face to meet mine. “On second thought, we can talk about this later.”

  “Take it.”

  “I can’t.”

  “What do you mean you can’t?”

  He ignores me, looking out the window.

  And that’s when we arrive at the long driveway, I can hear the crunch of the gravel beneath us. Barely making out the massive log home, slowly the lights displaying the grounds and the home itself come into view, it is actually stunning, huge, and expensive. So…fucking…Cash.

  “Come inside.”

  ~DAY ONE~

  ~Bryer~

  As I watch Cash hold the grand door to his oasis, I consider who this man is. He has the ability to hurt me in the blink of an eye. Yet here he stands going to great lengths to personally present me with one of the most precious gifts I’ll ever receive—a part of my mom. Something I thought I would never possess again, a tangible part of her. Well, that’s what I’m anticipating.

  “Here, let me take your coat.”

  I let him, and take a moment to admire my surroundings.

  “Let me start a fire, it’s chilly in here, and the snow looks like it’s coming down a little harder.”

  “Cash, don’t bother. I’m not staying that long.” I try Nathan again, but when I dial, I get a beeping noise. Panic starting to rise. “No signal out here?” Sounding a bit more flustered than I mean too.

  “Not yet, they are working on setting internet, phones and yes tower strength. That’s why I haven’t been working from here yet. I told you, remember?”

  And within minutes the flames are roaring. I step closer and hold my hands out to grab the heat. Chills consuming my body. This is not good, not good at all. I’m imagining Nathan not being able to return my missed calls, he’ll never understand unless I get home soon.

  “And when did they say it would be working?” Gauging his words, never really knowing what to believe. He’s the ultimate con man. A mastery of deceit, yet I fucking came with him. Chastising myself.

  “Soon.”

  “That’s not an answer, Cash.”

  “I agree, that’s what I told them.” Touching my should
er.

  But I move instantly, not allowing his touch.

  “Don’t panic, Bryer, I have your mother’s box”.”

  A rush of excitement stirs, and everything else falls away. Nearly.

  Feeling slightly self-conscience to display the excitement he’s brought me, I underplay it, as some sort of shield, but in truth, he knows, he knows me to well not to understand.

  “Where’s your driver?” I ask, looking out the window, watching the snow fall and build on the driveway.

  “He’s not my driver, it’s a service.” Looking over his shoulder as if that’s not a problem.

  “You mean he’s not waiting to take us back?’

  “He’s not.”

  “What are you saying, Cash? I can’t stay here tonight.” My voice rising, frantic with what looks like will be my only option.

  “Darlin’, unless you brought your snow boots that’s exactly what you’ll be doing,” he says smugly, as he leaves the room.

  Fuck, was this his plan?

  “Feel free to take the tour. There’s plenty of rooms here, you can have your choice of one of the eight bedrooms, there’re seven baths, there’s over eleven thousand square feet here, you can lose yourself, and never have to see me,” he says casually.

  What the hell? Nathan will be worried sick, especially after our first fight last night. “I have to get a message to Nathan.”

  “And how do you propose to do that?” Looking at me with complete compassion.

  But I distinctly remember it all, my heart waged quite the battle back then. I know this man, and his sincerity is questionable. Even doubtful. “When is the driver scheduled to return?” Tossing my arms in the air in frustration.

  “Tomorrow.”

  His calm is exasperating. “No internet?” I watch him shake his head.