by Liv Morris
“Capisce.”
I call Tom before leaving my room and run through the events of the day: Peters’ betrayal, Thorpe’s threats and demands that I resign, but most importantly I tell Tom about the security codes Thorpe possesses. Tom freaks when he hears that confidential information was leaked to an outsider.
He brings Patrick and the head of our IT department into our call, and codes are changed immediately. A full-scale offensive is launched to secure everything that Peters might have gotten his hands on. They promise to work around the clock until everything is secured. I breathe a little easier knowing that nothing appears to have been compromised.
Tom and Patrick stay on the line after the head of IT disconnects. The guys convince me to let our attorneys look into civil or possible criminal activity on Peters’ part. They also believe that Thorpe actions and blackmail should be turned over to the SEC. After all, we are a publicly traded company, and our stockholders could lose their shirts if the codes were truly released into the wrong hands.
I agree, but I don’t have the fight in me today. Tom and Patrick have stood up for me and swear they have my back. I thank them and tell them to keep me posted. I also mention that I’m taking off until Monday, though I might meet them for a drink for Happy Hour on Friday.
Once I’m off the call with Tom and Patrick, Ollie and I head out to the waiting room. I see Kathryn standing next to the window. She’s on her phone with her hand flying in the air as she talks. She turns and stops when our eyes meet. I swear everyone else in the room disappears around us.
She says a few words into the phone and then practically runs into my waiting arms. I wrap them around her and draw her to my chest. The familiar smell of her perfume works as a healing ointment for my frayed nerves, soothing me with her scent. After a few deep breaths, my shoulders drop and the knots in my stomach release. Kathryn has become my resting place.
“Are you okay?” She gazes up at me and feathers her fingers around the small bump on my forehead from when I hit the concrete. “What happened? Did Thorpe hit you?”
“No punches were thrown. I promise. Just a little fall outside of the building, and my heart was racing. But they doctor said I was fine to leave.” I glance over at Ollie who gives me a warm smile. “But I could really use some rest.”
“Let’s get you home, then.” She eases out of my arms and takes my hand.
Eddie stands a few feet away, and I motion toward the door. We’ve worked together for so long that words don’t even need to be spoken between us. I watch him exit the doors and know he’s about to bring the SUV around. But in the back of my mind, doubt creeps in. It’s just a quick thought, but I wonder if Eddie’s trustworthiness is for real? I want to push the idea away, but Peters’ betrayal is still too fresh in my mind.
“So you finally met Ollie,” Kathryn says while looping her arm through Ollie’s.
“Yes, we more than met. I’d say we bonded. Don’t you think, Ollie?” I still hold Kathryn’s other hand in mine. She’s sandwiched between us.
“Nothing like a son of a bitch father to bring two outcast sons together.” Ollie and I exchange a smile, and I feel the bond between us deep down into my very soul.
The rain clouds from earlier have cleared, and the late afternoon sun peeks through the Manhattan skyline. Eddie brings the SUV around and gets out to open our doors.
“So, I’m going to walk back to my hotel,” Ollie says as we all huddle together on the sidewalk.
“I was speaking to my mother when you came out to the waiting room. We’re going to postpone her birthday dinner,” Kathryn says while glancing between Ollie and me.
“Makes sense,” Ollie says, confirming Kathryn decision. “I’m going to be in town until Saturday. So just let me know.”
“I hate that we’re not meeting on Ava’s birthday, but I’m not sure I’d be good company tonight,” I can barely drag my sorry ass to the car, let alone The Core Club for dinner.
I place my hand on Ollie’s forearm before he leaves, but I wrap my arms around him this time and give him a quick hug. “I want to thank you for today, with Thorpe. You came to my rescue.”
“I’m sorry for what you went through. He’s a complete sociopath. My advice is to avoid him at all costs.” Ollie presses his lips together. I have to agree with his assessment of Thorpe.
“Advice taken,” I say. Ollie begins to walk backward away from us.
“See you crazy cats later. And Kathryn, see that my brother gets a bit of rest before dinner.” Ollie winks before turning to continue down the sidewalk.
“Will do,” Kathryn replies with a wave of her hand.
“It’s just you and me now, beautiful.” I lead her toward the SUV with my hand on the small of her back.
“Back to The Pierre,” I tell Eddie before following behind Kathryn and climbing into the backseat.
“Sit here.” I pat my thigh in a friendly invitation. As Kathryn moves to sit on my lap, I embrace her. “I have a bit of a headache.” I complain.
“And I happen to have just the cure,” she whispers into my ear as she massages the back of my neck.
~
Kathryn lies in my arms as we wake from a short nap.
“You promised to give me the details of what went on this afternoon with you and Thorpe after we rested.” She looks at me with a stern eye, and I know I can’t avoid telling her what happened today.
“I’m not sure where to begin. To say it was a complete fucking fiasco would be putting it mildly.” I have her undivided attention now as she’s raised up on her elbows.
“Oh, Adam. I had a bad feeling about this meeting from the second you mentioned it to me. What happened?” Her brow furrows in worry.
I take a deep breath before I begin. “First of all Peters has been working for Thorpe for years. The second I stepped foot in New York City, he had Peters get to know me. Gain my trust. And eventually sell me out.”
“You mean Peters, your security guy?” She appears as surprised as I was when I was hit in the gut with the truth.
“Yes. Here I thought all these years that Peters was my most trusted source in this city. He’s been monitoring Thorpe and his dealings for me for years. I bet not a fucking bit of it’s even true.” My temper starts to rise as I think about the years of betrayal. “After you told me about Thorpe’s attack and how your father died, well, I asked Peters if we had anything illegal or damaging against Thorpe. I was ready to drop a bomb on the bastard’s head.”
“Adam, I thought we talked about this?” She seems hurt that I wanted to seek revenge for her.
“I know, I know. I wasn’t going to do anything without having concrete proof. No hit men or anything like that. Although, now I’m tempted.” She shakes her head at me, and I smile so she knows I’m just teasing. “Seriously, Peters told me that Thorpe was doing some illegal transactions on a business deal. I believed what Peters said and decided to nail Thorpe’s ass to the wall.”
“But Peters was really working for Thorpe?” From the look in her eyes, I can see that things are starting to add up. “So the deal wasn’t real. Peters just told you it was.”
“Bingo. You’re not only beautiful, you’re brilliant.” I push her hair behind her ear. Then teasingly I give her earlobe a little tug. Detail by detail, I run through the entire day’s events. The resignation, the fall on the sidewalk when I came out of the building, and Ollie finding out that Thorpe had concocted the entire resignation as a ruse. The only thing I left out was the reason for my fall. The quick turnaround I did thinking Simon was speaking to me.
“I’m in shock.” Her eyes are wide with disbelief. “How can a father do such a despicable thing to his son?”
“In his eyes, I’m no more his son than the homeless guy on the corner. I’m a stain—as he put it—that reminds him of a failure on his part.”
“I’m so sorry, Adam.” She rubs her fingers up and down my arm, her touch soft.
“Thanks, baby,” I say, drawing her int
o my arms. We wrap our bodies around each other and stay locked in a lover’s embrace. Each minute that goes by with her in my arms makes me forget some of the day’s sting. But there’s one more thing I need to share with her. My flashbacks with Simon.
“I’ve been having some strange things happen since the shooting.” She rises up an elbow and frowns.
“What do you mean?”
“I’ve been having trouble sleeping at night.” I take a deep breath before continuing. “Dreams of the shooting, starring Simon, keep disturbing me. Some of them have been graphic.”
“I wondered why you weren’t sleeping. Especially the night I found you drinking in my living room around 4 a.m. You should’ve told me.” She doesn’t say it to scold me, but simply that she wants me to share my life with her.
“I should’ve, but I kept thinking the dreams would go away and things would return to normal.” I twirl a piece of her raven hair with my finger and look into her eyes. I need to see her. “I’ve even heard Simon’s voice.”
“During the day?” Her brow wrinkles as she waits for my answer.
“Yes,” I confess after a brief pause. “It happened again today after I left Thorpe’s. The doctor said I had a panic attack.”
“Oh my God, Adam. I can’t believe you’re just telling me all of this now.” Kathryn sits up on the bed, looking down at me. “Hearing voices is serious shit. I’m worried about you. All the stress and the shooting…”
“The doctor had a phrase for it—”
“Post-traumatic stress disorder?” She interrupts before I can say it.
“That’s it.”
She brings her hands to my chest. “I’m glad you told him about it… and me.
Chapter 20
“Adam, you’re experiencing the classic symptoms of post-traumatic stress disorder, or PTSD. Flashbacks of the shooting, nightmares, and hallucinations in the form of hearing Simon’s voice in your mind.” The psychiatrist sums up all my issues in his assessment. It appears I have some troubles to say the least.
“I sound pretty messed up when you list everything together.” I glance away from the doctor. I have no clue what the answer to my problems is, but I’m thankful he worked me into his full schedule two days after the ER incident.
“I’m most concerned about the daytime flashbacks and hearing Simon’s voice. Those need to be addressed first. Have you ever had a flashback of your struggle with Simon? When he shot you—or grazed you, as you put it?” He taps something into his laptop as he awaits my answer. But I haven’t thought back to the struggle Simon and I had with the gun or when the bullet hit me. None of it ever involved me.
“Not once. I have had nightmares of him shooting Kathryn. Killing her, actually. The times I hear him talking in my mind, he’s mocking me. These episodes scare the shit out of me.”
He nods as if he expected me to say this.
“Observing Simon’s actions during the shooting likely caused the trauma more than what he did to you personally. When he held the gun to Kathryn’s head, a person you feel strongly for, the feeling of hopelessness knowing you were the cause of his attack gave you the greatest anxiety. So I want to see you twice a week for the next month.” The doctor meets my eyes with a serious stare as he waits for my response.
I’ve always thought shrinks and therapists were for weak people who relied on others to solve their problems. After sitting here for an hour, discussing what I’ve experienced since the shooting, I realize I was wrong. Completely wrong.
“Sure, I’ll make it work,” I say. The doctor’s passive face changes to a smile.
“Good. Your first step to getting better is de-stressing your life and getting some sleep.” The doctor returns to his laptop. “I’m going to prescribe a sleep aid for you. We’ll start with that for now.”
“Okay... but I’m not a fan of drugs.” I have to be honest, but I also know I can’t live with this anxiety and lack of sleep much longer. My body feels like it’s being pulled down into an ocean’s undertow.
“I’m not, either. But there’s a time and place for them and this is the time. A few nights of uninterrupted sleep will make a world of difference.” He taps his fingers on his keyboard, and I hear a printer churning somewhere behind him.
The doctor reaches back, grabs a piece of paper from the tray, and hands it to me. “Here is what I want you to get take. One per night, thirty minutes before bed. Now the de-stressing part. You may find this a harder pill to swallow.”
He rests his hands on the desk, and gives me his full attention.
“I am recommending you take some time off—two to four weeks. A month would be best. You mentioned earlier that you haven’t had a personal vacation in over a year. This needs to change. And by vacation, I mean a break from your cell phone, market analyzing, and emails. Totally decompressing. Your mental health demands it.”
“A month? Two to four weeks?” What the hell? He’s nuts. I shake my head as my mind runs through the fallout of taking this much time off. “I’m not sure it’s possible right now.”
“A month. Let someone else slay all the financial dragons for a while. You need the break before your stress breaks you.”
I leave the doctor’s office with a counseling appointment for next Tuesday, a cure for my lack of sleep, and my position as Kings’ CEO to be put on hold, at least for the next month. Two are easily tackled, but one seems almost impossible.
As soon as I walk into the waiting area, Kathryn stands and comes to my side. A reassuring smile lights up her face.
“Hi,” she says while reaching up on her tiptoes to kiss my cheek.
“Hello, beautiful.” I reach out for her hand and lace our fingers together.
“How did it go?” she asks as we make our way to the elevator. “It looks like you survived.”
“I told him everything,” I say, summarizing the intense hour-long conversation. “He wants to talk about my mother’s death next week.” I swallow hard at the thought.
“I know it will be hard, but he has to know so he can help you.” She gives my hand a gentle squeeze.
“True.” Her words reflect the doctor’s. “It wasn’t easy, but I feel better after talking to him. I’m just glad to know he didn’t think I was going insane. I was beginning to wonder after Wednesday.”
“It’s amazing how sharing your feelings can help.” She has that knowing tone in her voice, and I turn to see her winking at me.
“Yes, I’m learning from the master.” I bend at the waist and bow to her while she laughs at my display.
“You have come pretty far from that closed-off player I met at the gala.” She inspects me from head to toe. “Yep, I think he’s almost gone.”
“I think you’re right,” I whisper and kiss the top of her head. “But the doctor believes I need a month away from Kings.”
Kathryn eyes me, doubtful.
“I know, I know,” I respond. “I’ll see if I can make it happen.”
“You do, and I’ll take the month off with you,” she says in a seductive voice.
“Well, that settles that,” I say as we leave the elevator and walk into the lobby.
Exiting the building, we find Eddie still parked in front. We climb into the back seat and nestle together. She leans her head on my shoulder, and the scent of her perfume fills my lungs. A comforting feeling floods over me. I hold onto it, not wanting to let go.
~
I’m sitting in the Two E bar located off The Pierre’s lobby next to the front desk. The discreet bar is tucked away inside the hotel, a hidden gem on the Upper East Side. The subdued lighting, quiet atmosphere, and conversational seating make it a perfect place to meet for drinks and a light diner. Tom and Patrick are scheduled to join me here any minute.
I haven’t been back to Kings since I met with Thorpe two days ago. Though I’ve been on conference calls and answered a shit ton of emails, my physical presence has been missing from the actual building.
I asked the guys to stop by
and unwind from the week. We also need to talk about what’s happening with Thorpe and Peters and what fallout Wednesday might have had on our company.
Kathryn stayed upstairs in my penthouse because she wants Rosa to teach her how to make her famous meatloaf. The two get along like old friends, and I love how easily Kathryn has become a permanent fixture in my life.
I glance up from my scotch to see my partners stride into the bar. With suit coats thrown over their arms and ties loosened around their necks, the effects of the crazy workweek show.
“Hey, Adam.” All eyes in the bar turn to Tom when his deep voice booms in the quiet bar.
“Hey, guys.” I motion for them to join me at my table. A dutiful server follows behind, ready to fill their drink orders.
“Good to see you, Adam,” Patrick says and drops his coat in an empty chair next to him.
“What would you gentlemen like to drink?” the server asks.
“What are you having, Adam?” Tom eyes my glass.
“The usual, scotch.”
“Fine. I’ll have the same,” Tom says.
“Me, too,” Patrick chimes in.
“What a few days you’ve had, buddy,” Tom adds with a touch of sarcasm and a punch on the arm. “I’ve been trying to wrap my head around the fact that Peters worked for Thorpe the entire time he was supposedly your go-to guy. Nine damn years. I’m still floored, Adam.”
“Tell me about it. It was the fucking shock of my life.” I shake my head and take a healthy gulp of my drink. “Ken’s working on the legalities of what Thorpe and Peters did with the Kings information. On Kings’ behalf, he plans to file a complaint with the SEC on Monday morning. It’s a long shot anything will touch Thorpe but it’s worth a try.”
“All the evidence we have against him is circumstantial and hearsay. He’s likely hidden or destroyed all the documents he had by now. Plus, he didn’t do anything with the codes before we changed them,” Patrick says, summing up the situation.
We look at each other in relief. The consequences of a breach in the company’s security firewalls would’ve been felt across the globe.