Wealthy Playboy (Cocky Suits Chicago Book 7)

by Alex Wolf

  The only thing I’ve ever known that comes close to this feeling I have right now, as much as I don’t want to admit it to myself, is when I’m with Wells Covington.

  Wells Covington

  I sit around a conference table with several fund managers and a few angel investor acquaintances I’ve met once or twice. They’re all involved in funding Meadow’s shelter idea that was once the Parker project. The couple who run the place flank me on the other side.

  The investors all keep glancing over at me like I’m some kind of celebrity and they might ask for an autograph. It’s awkward as fuck, but it’ll be worth it.

  Meadow’s firm is as quaint and quiet as I remember. There’s barely enough room to fit twelve people around a table. Hardly adequate, but this is how she runs her business. I imagine she avoids sit-down meetings as often as possible.

  This shelter project of Meadow’s is the reason we’re all here. It’s the one thing that has driven her since day one, why she vandalized my marble wall. I still can’t believe I didn’t think of this earlier. Orson was right, my brain works differently when she’s around. Actually, it doesn’t really work much at all. Hell, she doesn’t even have to be around. I’ve been different ever since the day she came into my life.

  Footsteps pound from around the corner, two pairs. One Meadow, I assume, and the other her assistant.

  “What is this? I said I’m not taking meetings right now. I can’t.” Meadow does not sound happy—at all.

  “They told me it was an emergency.”

  “Who told you that?” Meadow appears around the corner just as she barks out the question.

  She freezes in her tracks. Clearly she was not expecting every investor on her project to be waiting in the conference room. Her eyes dance around, and then they land on me.

  Oh shit.

  I may have misread this thing. Goddamn it, Orson!

  “You.” She says the word right through her teeth.

  The tension in the room amps up to, well—infinity. Anxiety rips through my body, but I can’t help but smile, because fuck she’s so beautiful. I miss her face every second of every day. Not even her face, just her personality, the way she carries herself, her confidence and intellect.

  Just her.

  Meadow glances around once more and does her best to compose herself. After a long few seconds, her jaw clenches tight, and she says to everyone else, “Give us the room, please.”

  She glares lasers so damn hot I actually start to get a slight headache. Who knew those honey-brown eyes of hers could be so lethal?

  Everyone gets up slowly and after about fifteen seconds, they all walk out. Meadow apologizes to each of them individually, trying her best to remain calm and assure them this won’t take long.

  I start to get up as the last person leaves, to go over and talk to her.

  “Sit the fuck down, Covington.”

  Jesus Christ.

  Part of me wants to defy her, but I really don’t know if I want to push back that hard at the moment. She can level people with a glare, but I’ve never seen her glare like this before.

  “Any reason I should remain seated?” Fuck me, I always have to be an asshole. I just can’t help myself. You can’t just be nice one time, fucker?

  She storms toward me. “So I can fucking look down my nose at you for once.”

  I do my best not to smile, but shit, these things happen. I love her like this. “Do you treat everyone who helps you out with such hostility?”

  “Don’t.” She points a finger in my face, and there’s definitely rage in her eyes, but there’s sorrow too, hiding behind all the red, fiery anger. “I told—” She freezes to compose herself for a moment. She speaks slow and deliberately. “I told you I have family issues right now.” Another pause. “They require my attention, one hundred percent of it, twenty-four seven.”

  I look into her eyes, and she’s a definite fireball right now, but this is different. It’s like the anger is the only thing holding her together.

  I try not to joke, and I adopt a serious tone. “Sorry, I really had the best intentions. That’s the truth.”

  “By calling me away from where I need to be?”

  Fucking hell, she’s transferring all this guilt on to me? “By trying to help you.”

  “How is this helping me?” She yells the words at me. “Making me deal with meetings and paperwork right now?”

  “Because you care about this shelter. Or I thought you did. It’s been the number one thing that brought us together. And I thought if I could handle all this shit for you, you’d have more time for your family emergency.”

  She blinks a few times. “Wh-what?”

  “I just wanted all the investors here to have you sign a couple things, giving me temporary managerial control over the finances and operations, to lighten the load for you. I didn’t realize you couldn’t spare thirty minutes. Probably because you won’t tell me what’s going on, so I have no idea. There’s a broad spectrum of family emergencies, and I didn’t realize this was DEFCON One.”

  She sits down in the chair next to me. It actually looks more like a controlled collapse than her merely sitting down. She looks straight ahead at the wall across from her, not turning to face me.

  “I am, umm, I’m sorry.” She sniffs a little, still staring at the wall.

  I glance down to see her fingers tremble against the chair. She’s barely holding it together.

  “Meadow, are you okay?”

  She plasters on a fake smile. Anyone in the world would be able to tell it’s not genuine. “Of course, I’m fine.”

  I lean a little toward her. “Look at me and say it.”

  She starts to turn her head but can’t do it. Her shoulders begin to shake, her nose crinkles a little, and she fights back some tears, but her eyes well up anyway.

  “Meadow?”

  She starts to turn, and then just crashes into me and buries her face in my shoulder. I wrap my arms around her, and she sobs, full body sobs racking her from head to toe. My eyes widen a little, because it has to be damn near end-of-the-world bad to crack Meadow like this.

  I’m still not sure exactly what could be causing her this much pain, because this is the toughest woman I’ve ever met by far.

  I squeeze her tight against me, and guilt rushes through my veins, because as bad as she’s hurting, as horrible as I feel about that, I also don’t know if I’ve ever been happier, getting to take care of her like this. It’s all I want to do. I want to drive her to my house, put her in my bed, and hold her and give her whatever the fuck she asks for, whatever she wants.

  After a few moments, she leans back and shows me her eyes.

  “My mom, she’s dying.”

  Oh, fuck. “She’s sick?”

  Meadow nods.

  “How long does she have?”

  “Weeks. Days maybe. They don’t know how long her cognitive functions will last.”

  A searing pain tears through my heart. “I took you away from her. Calling this meeting. Pulling you away outside the building.”

  She shakes her head. “You didn’t know.”

  I cup her face in one of my palms. “I should’ve known.”

  She leans into my hand, and I want to just keep her for myself the rest of the day, but I know I can’t. I stand up at the same time as her and pull her into a hug. It’s incredibly intimate, and she holds onto me like she doesn’t want to ever let go but knows that she has to.

  I hold her in my arms and wish I could bear every ounce of pain for her. One of my hands caresses her back, and she nuzzles against my neck. Our mouths inch closer together, until we slowly morph into a long, deep kiss.

  When we part ways, I say, “What can I do? Tell me what I can do to make your life easier. I want to be there for you.”

  She shrugs, just barely, still a little deflated but in better condition than she was. “Thanks. That, umm, it means more than you know. Aren’t you needed at your work?”

  I shake m
y head. “I’m sure it’s getting pretty Lord of the Flies right now, but it’ll make them stronger. They’ll survive.”

  I get a smile, just a hint of one.

  “What do you need? Anything.”

  “If you can make sure the shelter gets—”

  “Done. What else?”

  Her eyes roam up to mine. “That’s a lot of work. It’s a full time—”

  I cut her off and put my palms on her face. “You don’t get it, do you?”

  “Get what?”

  “You’re mine. If my firm takes some losses without me there, so fucking what? It’s all bullshit; just stuff. You’re all that matters. I will support whatever you need, one hundred percent. Just tell me what you want done.”

  Her eyes dart around for a moment, then she nods a little. “Okay, yeah, the shelter. If you can just handle that, it will seriously make this all a lot easier on me, so I can be with my mom the entire time.”

  “Done. I’ll support whatever you need. Do you want me to go with you? Be with you?”

  She shakes her head. “No, this is too important. Too many families are impacted by it. They need to get construction going as soon as they can.”

  “You’re too important. This shit can wait.”

  Meadow stares at me for a long moment, like she’s looking at a man she didn’t know existed in her life before right now. Finally, she tries to get some words out, and her voice nearly cracks again.

  Fuck. I hug her to me before she can say what she’s trying to say. It does kind of bug me that she doesn’t want me to go with her.

  As if she can still read my mind, she says, “N-no, it’s not because I don’t want you to go. She’s about to slip away. She was so confused earlier this morning. I don’t want to confuse her anymore.” She pulls back and puts her palms on my cheeks this time. “I do wish I could have taken you to meet her, the real her. She would’ve loved you.” She kisses me once more, then turns and walks away.

  I stand there, wanting to run after her, chase her, make her let me do more. I can’t, though. That’s the hardest part about this. I have to share Meadow, can’t be selfish and keep her to myself. She’d never forgive me.

  She gets a few steps away, then turns back. “I don’t think it’ll be more than a week. But…”

  I rush over there. “But what?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Tell me, Meadow.” I lift her chin with my finger, angling her gaze up to me.

  She shakes her head. “I feel selfish asking for it.”

  “You can ask me for anything. I want you to ask me for anything.”

  “Okay, well, fuck this is hard. I don’t like needing people.”

  “Trust me, Meadow. I understand completely. You know I’m the same way, but I want you to know you can always count on me. Just ask, and be specific with what you want, please.”

  “Okay.” She nods. “Can I call you any second of any day? If something happens, I want to be able to call you at any time during the night, and you’ll run as fast as you can to me. I know it’s a ridiculous thing to ask.”

  “Done.”

  She looks up at me. “What?”

  “Done. All of that. The second you call I’ll be there, doesn’t matter where.”

  I hug her again and drop a kiss on the top of her head. She squeezes her arms so tight around me it’s damn near hard to breathe, but I don’t give a single shit. I don’t want her to go anywhere. Ever.

  “I don’t want to leave, but my dad’s a mess and Mom, well, you know.”

  The last thing I want to do is to keep her from her family, even though I never want to let go.

  “Go on. You need to get back to them.” I kiss her one more time, then take a step back, giving her the necessary space to make an exit.

  She walks toward the door, but glances back several times along the way, like she’s torn because she’s needed there, but doesn’t want to leave my side either.

  Once she’s out of my sight, it’s like the world cools off ten degrees, like colors are drab. Fuck, I care about her so much. I didn’t realize exactly how much until just now.

  I know it’s still early, but this is a big deal. The stakes are raised. It feels like a gigantic, monumental test to see if she can count on me. It could have lifelong implications on our relationship.

  That means I cannot fuck this up. Not if I want to be with Meadow for the rest of our lives.

  Just like every other goal I’ve ever put my mind to, I will crush this. When this is done, she’ll know no other man could ever be there for her in a time of crisis like I can. Can take care of her needs, give her the space she needs, but come running the second she calls, with whatever she needs.

  She’ll know I’m all in. I’ll prove that to her.

  Meadow Carlson

  Mom slipped into a coma two days ago. We have no idea how much longer she has, but probably not long. It is not fair how fast this cancer is moving.

  They upped her pain medication to make sure she doesn’t feel anything. It was so calm and serene, she was there with us, talking like usual, and then she just fell asleep and never woke up, like she was taking a nap.

  Part of me is grateful for that. She’s barely seemed in any pain, but I don’t know how much of it she was holding in. I don’t think I realized how much pain she was capable of bearing, until I heard her light into my dad last week. I’ve felt so selfish, knowing she harbored all those feelings and had the strength to never show me them because she didn’t want me to feel guilty.

  I’ve called Wells twice, the last two evenings, with updates. He’s been ridiculously supportive, more than I would’ve ever thought. Part of me even feels a little bad for thinking he was just another trust fund billionaire type who doesn’t care who they have to destroy to get what they want. I mean, I’m not naïve, I know he has that killer instinct, but it seems to evaporate when I expect it to flourish.

  He caught me so off guard with everything. I have too many things going on in my life, and to be honest, it scares the shit out of me how much I care about him. Even more, how much I’m relying on him. Because when Mom goes, it’s going to crush me, and I’ve put all my poker chips on Wells Covington being there to piece me back together. I hate myself for that, but I don’t know if I can handle it all alone, and there’s no way I’ll ever trust my father. Not in the amount of time Mom has left, anyway.

  I glance over at Dad. He’s been by Mom’s side, holding her hand, this whole time. I don’t know how we’re going to make this all work, how I can ever grow close to him again. But I have to try, for Mom. Knowing what I know now, I owe it to her to try. It’s just going to be a long, arduous process.

  I walk up and put a hand on his shoulder. “Dad, why don’t you go take a shower, or get some rest. I can sit with her for a while.”

  He shakes his head vigorously, tears in his eyes, and grips her hand a little tighter. “No.”

  I use my own Mom-style voice on him. “Dad? Come on.”

  His head turns and his stare meets mine. “I left once. I won’t do it again.”

  I give his shoulder a small squeeze and relax my features, knowing there’s no way in hell I’ll pry him away. “Okay.”

  I know he means every word of what he says, and there will be no changing his mind. He’s as stubborn as I am. His parole officer showed up for some kind of visit last night, a surprise check-in.

  Dad made the guy stand in the room and ask him questions while he held Mom’s hand and never let go of her. It was about the most awkward thing I’ve ever seen, but honestly, it was really sweet too. As much as I hate to admit it, it made my heart happy, and despite the torturous circumstances with what’s happening with Mom, it’s the first time it has felt like we were a family again.

  Slowly, I walk around and take a seat on the bed next to Mom, so that we’re on each side of her. I lean over and kiss her on the forehead.

  “I love you, Mom.”

  Dad pulls her hand up to his mouth and kisses
her knuckles again, like he does a million times a day now. “We both love you, so much.”

  Right as he does it, I look up at the monitor next to her. Her oxygen levels slowly start to dip, and my heart squeezes tight in my chest. Her heartrate speeds up so much the machine starts to beep.

  It startles Dad, and the nurse comes in from the other room. Three of them work around the clock in eight-hour shifts.

  We both know what’s happening right now. She’s here with us, can hear us, and it’s time for her to go. It’s like she was holding out, waiting for me to get here.

  “I love you so much.” Tears run down Dad’s face as he kisses her hand over and over again.

  My entire chest starts to shake, like my body realizes what’s happening before my brain can fully process the moment. I lean down and hug her. I know I need to be strong for her, and despite how hard it is, harder than anything I’ve ever had to do in my entire life, I whisper, “It’s okay, Mom. You can g-go rest. Dad and I will be okay. Th-thank you for everything. You m-mean so much to me, more than you’ll ever know. I love you, s-so much.”

  As soon as I finish my shaky sentence, the heart monitor line goes flat, and the oxygen level slowly dips down further.

  Dad hugs her close to him and kisses her forehead. He whispers something in her ear over and over.

  The nurse stands behind him, trying to be respectful.

  It lasts for about ten seconds, when I reach over and grab him lightly on the shoulder. “Dad?”

  He sobs uncontrollably and more tears roll down my cheeks.

  “Dad, we have to let her go. Just let her go. She needs to rest.”

  His eyes roll over to mine, a look of recognition, then he kisses her once more on the lips, then backs away. Instinctively, before I even realize what I’m doing, I walk quickly around the bed and nearly knock us both over I hug him so hard. Dad’s arms tighten around me, and I can feel the tremors rippling through him.

  I watch the nurse as she checks Mom’s heart for activity, presses a few buttons on the machine to silence it, checks the time and makes notes in a folder. Her actions are so simple, routine, but symbolic at the same time. The finality of what she does, a life concluded, my mother’s life, it’s too much to take in as the reality slams into my chest.