by Amelia Wilde
I’m not alone.
I pull open the doors and step inside, the hairs on the back of my neck pricking up.
Sandra isn’t here, but someone else is.
She’s tall and has auburn hair that has been straightened into a shining wave down her back. It’s pinned in place like a work of art.
And she’s sitting at my desk.
“Hello,” she says with a big smile as I step into the office. “How can I help you? Ms. Sarzó isn’t in yet.” She gets up from the desk and comes around to greet me.
“I’m—” I can’t find the words. What the hell? What the hell? “Who are you?”
“My name is Lydia, and I’m Ms. Sarzó’s assistant. Did you have a meeting scheduled with her?”
“No, I—” I sputter, then take a deep breath. “I’m Catherine Schaffer. I’m Ms. Sarzó’s assistant. I’ve been working for her for over a year.”
Lyida blushes, biting her lip. “Oh, I didn’t—I didn’t know that. I got a call yesterday evening about filling the position this morning, and of course I took it. I didn’t think—”
Just then, Sandra sweeps into the room.
“Lyida,” she says. “I have changes to the schedule.” Then she reaches out a hand and beckons for Lydia to come take her purse. The other woman rushes to Sandra and takes her purse, then shoots me an apologetic look.
“Sandra,” I say. “There’s been a mistake.”
“There’s no mistake,” she says in a clipped tone. “Mr. Hunter told me last night that you’re being transferred, effective immediately.”
“Mr. Hunter?”
How could he do this to me?
Lydia follows Sandra into her office, and Sandra takes her place behind her desk and starts rattling off changes. Lydia doesn’t even have a notepad ready.
“Sandra, that wasn’t discussed with me. I never wanted—”
“It’s done, Ms. Schaffer. Now, if you don’t mind, there’s a lot of work to be done.”
Just like that, my work for Basiqué is over.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Jax
My head is fogged and tired when I get back to the penthouse. The visit with my mother was harrowing.
The staff is doing everything they can to keep her comfortable, keep her from harming anyone or herself, but her agitation turns so fucking quickly to rage.
She’s slipping away, and there’s nothing I can do to stop it. All the money in the world can’t buy her mind back, and believe me—I’ve poured as much of my capital into it as I can. Donations to research labs, founding my own research labs, fundraising organizations…I’ve tried all of it, short of becoming a researcher myself, and it’s come to nothing.
When I get to her room, she doesn’t know who I am.
It takes half an hour for the staff to convince her that I’m not an intruder, and I spend several hours after that meeting with her nurses and doctors, every caretaker available, to come up with a solution.
The doctor is a nice fucking guy in his early forties.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Hunter,” he says, my mother’s file spread out in front of him on the meeting table. He’s being way nicer than he needs to be, considering I came in here like a blustering asshole and demanded that everyone meet with me well past business hours. “There’s just been too much brain deterioration. Even with recent clinical trials…” He shakes his head, his disappointment seeming genuine enough. “We can’t reverse the damage. All we can do is make her more comfortable.”
I slam my fist down on the table, then cover my face with my hands. “She’s out of fucking control,” I say through gritted teeth. “She doesn’t know who I am. Why isn’t more being done to calm her?”
“We’re doing everything we can.” This is a man who doesn’t flinch at the first sign of an outburst. “We’re giving her every relaxation service we offer, but as you saw tonight, sometimes there’s nothing we can do outside of sedatives.”
“I don’t want her sedated.”
“Mr. Hunter, you have been very clear about that from day one, and I’ve made a careful note of each of your requests. But your mother is past the point where we can keep the possibility of sedatives off the table if she’s going to remain here. She’s becoming a danger to our staff members, and more pressing, she’s becoming a danger to herself.”
I hang my head, giving myself thirty seconds to feel fucking sorry for myself before I look into the doctor’s eyes.
“I want this carefully monitored,” I say, trying to keep the quiver out of my voice. “She’s not going to become one of the living dead, drugged out of her fucking mind until she’s barely living.”
He nods, acting like my opinion means something in the face of his medical experience. “You have my word, Mr. Hunter. We will only do what’s absolutely necessary, and no more.” He glances through the files in front of him again. “You should also know that although episodes like this are becoming more common, she’s still having many pleasant moments throughout the day. She always responds very well to our daily painting class. Most days, when she paints, she becomes lucid enough to share stories about her favorite topic.”
“What’s that?”
“You.”
My heart tears in two inside my chest.
It’s still torn when the elevator lets me out into my penthouse. I don’t want Cate to see me like this, so shaken up, so fucking weak, but she’s the only one I can even begin to speak to about this.
The moment I see her, I know that’s going to be off the table.
She stands in the middle of the living room, shoulders tight and tense, arms crossed in front of her face, feet planted. Her face is white with rage.
“Cate.”
She lets the silence hang between us for far longer than she needs to before she speaks.
“What the fuck, Jax?”
I run a hand through my hair, over my aching head. “You’re going to have to tell me what you’re talking about, Cate.”
A sharp burst of incredulous laughter escapes her lips. “Are you fucking serious?”
My chest still aches with the state I had to leave my mother in. I can’t even engage with her on this level. For the moment, at least, the fight has gone out of me. “I’m serious.”
“You got me fired from my job, you controlling bastard.”
It dawns on me all at once.
The nightmare with my mother kept me away from Cate all last evening, and this morning…and now I see what that bitch Sarzó has done.
“Cate, that’s not what I intended to have happen. What I meant was—”
“What gives you the right?” It would be better if she screamed at me, but her voice is deadly soft.
“I didn’t get you fired. You have to know that.”
“I went in this morning and they already had a replacement at my desk. You did this yesterday. Yesterday I had a job, and today I don’t. And it’s all because of you.” Her face is twisted from the betrayal.
I hold both of my hands up. “You have to believe me when I say that I never intended for you to be replaced overnight.”
“This wasn’t your business,” she spits at me. “Do you honestly think that just because you have a lot of money that you can fuck around with people’s lives?”
It cuts me, because for a long time I’ve been living that way. But when I called Sarzó and told her to prepare for Catherine to transition out of the office, I was explicit: I told her that she would have two months to find a suitable replacement. Plenty of time for Cate to warm up to the idea, and for me to show her what I have in mind. It fucking stings that she thinks I’ve done this with no consideration for what she wants out of life.
“Please, Cate, give me a minute to explain.”
“I don’t want to hear your explanation. I don’t want to hear any of it.” Her cheeks go pink. “I’m fucking mortified that I got involved with you at all. I should have known—I was warned that you were selfish and arrogant and I didn’t listen. Now I’ve
lost my job over it, and you have some trite explanation? Fuck you. Fuck you. We’re done, Jax. Done.”
Chapter Thirty-Six
Cate
Jax’s shoulders slump, but I’m so furious that I feel nothing when I see his defeated posture. A tiny voice in my head is trying to pull me back, trying to remind me that he’s had a hard day—that he’s losing his mother to a slow and agonizing disease, that his father is in prison, that he’s done so much for me that I can at least hear him out.
But I don’t want to.
Nothing he can say can possibly make up for what happened to me this morning, with all of my hard work dismissed as worthless. I’m back out on my ass, back at the bottom, and now I have to start over somewhere else and it will be years, years, before I can finally feel secure enough to move forward with all the other plans I have for my life. The anxiety is like a pair of hands around my neck. Years…
“I didn’t tell your boss to fire you.” He says the words, but he must know they’re going to have no effect. “And I meant to talk to you about this last night, but things…got in the way.”
“You couldn’t send me a message?”
“It’s not the kind of thing I thought you’d appreciate hearing about in a text.”
“You couldn’t call?”
He shakes his head, shoulders raising in a hint of a shrug. “It was late when I was finally free…”
This is all so goddamn irrelevant. The fact that Jax did this and said nothing to me is a secondary problem, though I can’t help but dig at him over it. The main issue is that he thought he had the right to make a change like that in my life, and he did not. He absolutely did not. It’s unforgivable.
I step over to him, looking him straight in the eye. “Let me make something crystal fucking clear to you, Mr. Hunter.” I watch the last two words twist the knife. “Nobody makes decisions for me. Nobody. Not even men like you.”
For an instant, I almost feel sorry, because Jax doesn’t give me a cocky smile. He doesn’t have a cutting reply ready. He doesn’t step forward and try to overwhelm me with kisses, doesn’t press his body to mine until all I can think of is the clean scent of his skin, of his clothes, until I’m so lost in him that all I can do is dig my nails into his back and surrender to the most intense pleasure I’ve ever experienced.
He just looks down at the floor.
“I’m sorry, Cate. It didn’t play out how I thought it would.”
“No, I imagine it didn’t.”
He twists away from me, a hand over his eyes, and a moment later straightens up, taking in a deep breath and letting it out. Well, isn’t he the fucking model of self-control.
“Is there anything else you’d like to discuss?”
“Discuss?” I get it. Now that I haven’t just folded, just gone along with his grand plans—never mind that he couldn’t take the time to consult me about my own life—he’s going to treat me like another business associate.
“Yes. Was there anything else?”
I take a deep breath and prepare to unleash another stream of anger on him—goddamn it, it’s my fucking right after what he’s done—when my phone buzzes.
The habit is so ingrained that I don’t even think about the situation I’m in, think about the gravity of what’s happening between the two of us. I pull it out and look at the screen even as I swipe to answer it.
It’s Dex.
Dex almost never calls me. When the family is together, we get along and enjoy each other’s company, but unless he’s around when Bee is video chatting with me, I don’t hear from him. He’s a busy guy.
“Hello?”
“Cate?” When I hear the strain in his voice, my heart drops into my stomach.
“It’s me. What’s going on, Dex?” I turn my shoulders away from Jax, whose face instantly filled with concern when he heard the question.
“You’ve got to come home, Cate.” Terror. Pure, cold terror. Something has happened to my sister. What happened to my sister?
In a split second I switch modes. It’s like I’m back behind the desk at Basiqué, dealing with a thousand things at once like it’s nothing. I shove my fear and my anger deep down into the center of me, where it can’t interfere with what I have to do.
“Is it Bee?” My voice is clear, strong. Get the necessary information. Move into action.
“Something went wrong…something…I don’t know exactly what,” Dex’s voice is choked. He’s doing his best to hold it together, but Bee is his wife, the love of his life. “She’s going into emergency surgery to deliver the twins right now.”
“I’m on my way.”
“She might not make it, Cate!” he cries, voicing his darkest fear for probably the first time since this nightmare began.
“She’ll be all right,” I tell him, projecting every ounce of confidence I have into my voice. “I’ll be there soon.”
“Get here. Just get here.”
He hangs up and I’m already walking, moving toward the door.
“Cate.”
I turn back to Jax one last time. I’m about to walk away from him forever, and I hardly care. I need to get to my sister. My family is the only thing that matters now. I raise my eyebrows. What does he have to say that’s so important?
“My private jet will be fueled up and ready to leave by the time you get to LaGuardia.”
I don’t want to take the offer, but I need to get to my sister.
“I’m not coming back.”
“I know.”
It’s his money, his plane. I can’t waste any time on refusing on principle, even if that makes me the worst goddamn person on the face of the earth.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
I get into the elevator without looking back.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Cate
Less than four hours later, I’m staring through a glass window at the hospital’s NICU at the unbelievably tiny, perfect forms of my sister’s twin daughters.
Dex stands next to me, his exhaustion and worry and sheer joy all showing on his face. He needs a shave and his hair sticks up in every direction from running his hands through it all day.
“I can’t believe it, Dex,” I say, reaching over and squeezing his hand.
“I can’t either.”
The babies are incredible.
I only wish I could enjoy it more.
The flight only lasted an hour and a half. By the time we’d lifted off the runway I regretted the things I’d said to Jax, regretted what I’d done, and my heart caved right into my stomach.
What the hell was wrong with me?
What the hell is wrong with me?
I forced myself not to think about it the rest of the flight. My first and only priority had to be getting myself to Bee’s side.
When I arrived at the hospital, my parents were leaving for the night. They stayed until Bee made it safely to her recovery room.
In the lobby, they both hugged me tight, not letting go for a long time.
I guess no matter how old you get, you’re still your parents’ child.
Then I waited with Dex until the nurse came out to get him.
The actual C-section hadn’t taken very long, the nurse explained, but Bee had lost a lot of blood. Then she rattled off several medical terms that frankly I had no interest in.
“Is my sister going to be okay?”
“She’s stable now,” the nurse replied evenly, looking from me to Dex and back again. “As long as she’s given enough time to heal, she should be good as new.”
Then she guided Dex to the NICU. I stood next to him by the nursery window while he got the first glimpse of his daughters, and I joined him by the window, where we’ve been waiting for their condition to be assessed. It must be sheer torture not to be able hold them, but Dex’s eyes shine with his love, even though they’re framed by dark circles. He will wait as long as it takes.
A nurse comes through the door.
�
��Mr. Stevens?”
“That’s me.” He answers quickly, so eager to do anything he can.
“I know who you are, Mr. Stevens. Would you like to hold your daughters?”
“Oh, my God,” he says, tears coming to his eyes. “Yes, of course I would. Of course I would.”
The nurses let me stand nearby as he scrubs his arms up to the elbows and changes out of his shirt for a sterile gown, which they help him secure loosely, exposing his collarbone so the babies can get maximum skin-to-skin contact.
They’re premature, but not by so much that holding them will cause harm, explain the nurses as they gently place the two bundles, attached to wires and monitors, into his arms.
He stares into Twin A’s face—they haven’t decided which name goes with which baby yet—and then shifts his gaze to look into Twin B’s eyes. It’s the most sacred thing I’ve ever witnessed.
And then Dex bursts into tears.
He contains his sobs so that the babies aren’t jostled in any way, but the tears stream down his face unimpeded, causing tears to form in my own eyes.
“Fatherhood looks awesome on you, Dex,” I say, wiping my tears away with the back of my hand and stepping forward to dab at his with some of the hospital’s tissues.
“I didn’t realize it would be so wet,” he says in a dry tone that can’t hide his all-encompassing joy.
I snap thirty pictures on my phone. Bee will want to see this the moment she’s awake.
The sight of Dex holding his daughters, cradling them both so tenderly, breathing in their baby scent, delighting in every move they make with their tiny balled-up fists, is salt in the wound of my broken heart.
The broken heart I gave to myself.
This is what I want, I think, looking at him. A man to be my partner instead of a boss. A man who will look at our baby like this.
Jax could be that man.
I dismiss the thought.
Didn’t he prove to me that he can’t set aside his own selfish desires to respect mine?
My stomach twists. Even that is a lie. He cared for me when he didn’t have to. He made sure I had everything my heart desired.