Wealthy Playboy (Cocky Suits Chicago Book 7)

by Alex Wolf

  “Jesus fucking Christ.” Cole looks away so he doesn’t laugh where I can see.

  Lipsy doesn’t bother to turn away and laugh.

  Dex shrugs, barely keeping a straight face. “What? It’s a legitimate situation. It could’ve happened like that.”

  “Is that what you’ve been wondering? This entire time?” I stare at him like what the fuck is wrong with you?

  “I mean, of course. Don’t have high expectations for me. I’ll let you down every day of the week.”

  I shake my head at him. “It was at her mother’s funeral.”

  Dex’s grin disappears, and he stares at me for a long time. “Stop fucking with me. You’re trying to make me feel bad.”

  “Oh, it’s true.” I look right back at him.

  He basically deflates, his chest sinking in. “Well, shit.”

  Lipsy, out of nowhere, says, “So how the fuck are we going to Ocean’s Eleven that cunt for sabotaging your first firm then sodomizing your love life? Pay some guards to abandon him at shower time, then fill the commissary accounts of the three biggest inmates to do unspeakable shit to him like Little Puppet in American Me?”

  Everyone turns to Lipsy at once. He looks dead serious.

  Dex looks away, trying not to laugh again, and says, “Fuck, man.”

  I stare right at Lipsy. “He’s in club fed, not some max security death row prison with gangs and shit.”

  Lipsy glances around and shrugs. “I mean, it’s just a rough draft. Spitballing. We can iron out details.”

  It sounds ridiculous, but I think this is maybe just what I needed. To have these guys around.

  Friends.

  Humor.

  Something that lightens this load on my shoulders.

  I think Orson might know me better than I know myself, knew exactly what I’d need when I came around.

  “So what the fuck are you going to do?” says Dex. “Gotta do something. Idle doesn’t suit you.”

  I shrug. “Hell, I don’t know. Not much I can do really. Go back to work. Put all this in the rearview.”

  “Oh bullshit.” Cole stands up, looking more determined than I’ve ever seen him. Also, more intimidating. It’s like he just stepped back into the octagon.

  My eyes widen a little at the sight of him.

  He takes a step toward me. “You love her, right?”

  I sit there, trying to convince myself I don’t. That I could never love anyone, but I know the answer. Orson knew the answer a long time ago.

  Our eyes lock, and I shake my head. “Doesn’t matter. It’s done.”

  This time, he takes another step, but his eyes plead with me. “But if you could save it, would you?”

  My collar tightens around my neck. I don’t want to think about this shit right now. I just want things to be normal again. I want my old life back, before I met Meadow, but I know it’ll never be the same. “It’s futile. The situation is unsalvageable. I left her at her mother’s fucking funeral. Blew up on her and her father, with her dead mother one room away. She’s not some random thirsty chick at a bar, she has a brain. A very big fucking brain. And I know her better than any of you. She doesn’t forgive, and she will probably never trust anyone again, especially now that I know who her father is.”

  Cole seems hellbent on not giving up on this. “Seems like she forgave her father if he was there. He must’ve fucked them over too, the family. Went away. You don’t even know that side of the story.”

  I stand up and pace the room, because I don’t know what I’ll do if they don’t drop this. Maybe I need to be pressed about it, but not now. I need some time to fucking breathe.

  “We’re just trying to help,” says Dex.

  I wheel around on him. “Well don’t—” I stare at all of them, trying to stop myself from laying into them. It’s what got me into this shit. I’ve never had a temper in my life, but seeing his fucking face, it just brought it out of me. All the things I’d suppressed for so long.

  Dex takes a step toward me, both hands up. “Look, man. We know you better than anyone.”

  Lipsy and Cole both nod as he says it.

  “You don’t quit. If there’s one thing we all know about Wells Covington, it’s that he never stops fighting. And you damn sure won’t let her go, especially if you care about her the way we know you do. You don’t take no for an answer, ever. So when you strip everything away, the periphery, and get to the heart of it, it all boils down to one question.”

  “What’s that?” I know what it is before he says it, but I ask anyway, because I know being all dramatic like this is what he does. And I know I’m not thinking straight right now. I need these guys, whether I want to believe it or not. More than that, he’s right. I need Meadow. I’m so goddamn empty without her, constantly in pain knowing how much suffering I caused. Knowing I left her when she needed me the most, and when I lash out at everyone, it’s really just me attacking myself and my own insecurities. How can I ever live with myself after what I did? How can I look her in the eye and promise I’ll be there no matter what, after I abandoned her? Even if he is her father. How could I get so mad I walked away from the best thing that’s ever happened to me?

  Dex stares at me for a long time before he says, “Can you forgive her father? After what he did to you, could you still forgive him, if it meant having her?”

  I look down at the floor. Just hearing him say that out loud and everything that goes with it; I’ve never felt so ashamed in my life. All the shit that happened with Mayes, it was never really about the money, or the firm. It was about him abandoning me, betraying me, almost landing me in a prison cell next to him. I never understood how someone who seemed to care so much about me could do that. He was the only person outside of Orson I’d ever really trusted in my life. Then, I met Meadow, and everything just clicked. I fell for her, so fucking hard, and he came back. Showed up again.

  I know I’m more angry at myself than him. This time wasn’t his fault. It was mine. I threw it all away when I walked out of there. I should’ve been there for her, fought for her.

  Slowly, I bring my gaze up to Dex, because I know the answer a million times over. Everyone in this damn room knows the answer.

  I nod at him. “Yeah, I’d do anything for her.” My eyes roll over to Lipsy and Cole. “Any. Fucking. Thing.”

  A huge grin spreads across Dex’s face. “Well, fortunately for you, I have certain services that can be rendered. You, my friend, need a big romantic gesture.”

  “Oh fuck,” says Cole, rolling his eyes.

  “What’s happening here?” says Lipsy, looking clueless. “Tha fuck? What services?”

  Dex points right at him but still looks at me. “This’ll be right up your cinematic alley, Lipsy. It’ll be glorious, better than the Dirty Dancing lift, the Titanic ‘I’m flying’, the Notebook slow dancing in the street, Luke and Lorelai’s first kiss in the gazebo.”

  I have no doubt he could keep these references coming for hours with the kinds of movies he watches.

  Lipsy stares right at him, wide-eyed, shaking his head in derision, and says through his teeth, “What kind of a fucking man, just, pussy flicks—” His words trail off like he can’t process what he just heard, and he looks away at the ceiling, then glares back at Dexter. “Jesus Christ.”

  Dex, unfazed, turns to me, with a smile plastered across his face. “Here’s what you’re gonna do.”

  Meadow Carlson

  It’s been one week to the day since the entire shit show that was my mother’s funeral and everything that followed. It’s been hard trying to focus on her, honoring her memory.

  When Dad’s parole officer finally came, and they took him away, it was even harder than I thought it’d be. The emptiness I felt inside as he drove away, watching me through the back window—I didn’t know I would feel that again. I miss him, and he’s all I have left, as far as family goes.

  Now, I have to face this. I have to walk into my office and try to salvage the shelter pro
ject after I gave my word to Martha and John. I promised them I’d see this to the end, and I’m almost positive Covington is going to take all the investors he lined up and sabotage everything. He won’t care how much money he loses; he’ll do everything he can to destroy it. Why wouldn’t he? That’s how people in this business operate when you wrong them. He’ll probably leak my identity, have me blacklisted.

  I don’t know how I’ll pull any of this off, but I’ll find a way. I don’t break promises, unlike other people in my life.

  My biggest fear is that he’s going to be in the room when I get there. It’s always theatrics. Billionaire hedge fund managers always drive home the point. He’s still on the board of the project right now. I just know he’s going to show up, look me in the eye, smile, then have all of them walk out, right in front of the Freeports, and crush their dream—our dream.

  I walk through the front door, and I can see my small conference room and the suits sitting all around the table. My only hope is that he just decided to move on. It’s a small hope, and I don’t know why I hold onto it, because it’ll probably make this even worse when it happens.

  Please don’t be here.

  As I round the corner, I let out a sigh of relief, because he’s not here, and all the other investors are. The second I walk in, every pair of eyes in the room lands on me. I can’t read their expressions. I can’t think, process, the way I usually do. I can’t get a read on the room. It makes my skin crawl, not knowing. I can always see two steps ahead, and now, I’m flying blind. How the hell am I going to get through this?

  I plaster on a fake smile, try to project confidence, but I know they see right through it. I’m about to bomb like a shitty comedian on open mic night. I can feel it.

  I stop at the head of the table, take a huge breath, and turn to face all of them. “Hello, everyone. Thanks for coming. I know the last few weeks have been turbul—”

  Footsteps.

  Pounding on the floor, heading toward the conference room. They go off like bombs in my ears, every one of them, every last detail and sound frequency.

  My heart squeezes in my chest. I know who it is before I even turn to look.

  The second I lay eyes on him, I want to just crumble into a pile on the floor.

  Please, no.

  He’s going to make an example of me. He’ll exact some kind of revenge for what my father did to him, let everyone in this room know that if they ever do business with me again, they’ll suffer the same consequences I’m about to receive. He’ll chase any investment money away from anything that involves me, probably make calls to politician friends in DC to revoke their grants, bury me in paperwork. Anything I care about, he’ll try to destroy.

  I look up at his eyes, trying my best to remain calm and save face as much as I can. Maybe I can salvage something out of this if I keep it respectful. Covington doesn’t look angry though, he just looks serious, determined.

  His eyes are locked on mine as he makes his way straight toward me.

  I need to do something, so as if nothing’s wrong, I say, “Mr. Covington, we were just getting started. If you want to take a seat.” I hold out a palm at an empty chair on the side of the table.

  He doesn’t flinch, doesn’t slow, just walks straight at me, eyes locked on mine.

  Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

  I pretend to be surprised, glance around a little like did he hear me?

  My heartbeat pounds on my eardrums relentlessly. My palms start to clam up.

  Once he’s right in front of me, looking down at me like the rest of the room doesn’t even exist, he stops and just stares for a long moment. He looks like he’s curious, searching to see if I’m still in there somewhere, the Meadow he cared about. I can’t look away from him. All I can do is stare into his eyes and see the pain in them. It reflects my own right back at me. He’s hurting so badly, and despite all this, I have an urge to hug him, comfort him, and he looks back at me the same way. I don’t see any malice there.

  Before I can analyze his look any further, he drops to both knees, right in front of me, right in front of everyone.

  There are a few gasps, eyes glancing back and forth around the room. They’re probably wondering who the hell is this man and where the hell is Wells Covington?

  I don’t know if I’ve ever felt so much relief, and yet wanted to strangle someone at the same time. My blood heats up the more I look at him, especially now that he’s in a vulnerable position, exposing himself to me. I thought for sure he would walk into the room and crush me like an ant under his boot.

  He starts to say something, but his words catch.

  Now, guilt floods my veins for thinking so little of him a few moments ago. For thinking he would really try to hurt me more, but it’s still clouded with the anger from what he did a week ago. I’ve never been so—confused, pulled in opposite directions like I’m being emotionally drawn and quartered.

  He closes his eyes, then opens them back up at me and they’re glossy, welled up. I seriously can’t believe he’s doing this in front of the people in this room. Wall Street will have word of it within minutes after this, that’s how fast news travels in financial circles. Once you’re seen as weak, people come for you, come for your investors, like ravenous wolves.

  “I-I’m sorry.” He manages to croak out the words.

  A giant wave of relief washes over me. For the first time in weeks, I feel like I can breathe again. It doesn’t change how much I want to tear into him for what he did, but still, a weight has lifted from my shoulders.

  I chance a look around the room and eyes are wide, watching the scene unfold in front of them.

  I start to say something, lay into him, or tell him we need to step into the hallway to continue this, but he holds up a hand like just wait.

  “What I did was wrong, it was childish, immature, hurtful.” His eyes sear into mine, and a tear slides down his cheek. “Un—” He takes a second to compose himself. “Unacceptable. I, look, Meadow, I have no excuse for what I did. I was supposed to be there for you, like I promised, and I wasn’t. I will have to carry that burden for the rest of my life, and it will eat at me every single day. I’m sure you thought, when I walked in here, that I was coming to destroy this project, bury you under the rubble. The man I once was would’ve done that to anyone who did to me what your father did, and I would’ve destroyed their family and everyone they loved right along with it. But I’m not that man anymore. I don’t give a shit about any of this.” He waves an arm around at the room. “I don’t give a shit about anything—but you.” His eyes lock onto mine as he says it. He continues to struggle to get the words out. “You changed me. You make me want to be—better, decent. I’m on my knees, begging you for a second chance. I’ll give all of it up, everything, because I can’t l-live one more day without you. I’ve been in constant pain, agonizing pain, and it’s not going away. My soul hurts without you. I miss talking to you, holding you, being with you. There’s a hole in my heart, a giant void in my chest, and it can’t be filled without you in my life. No amount of money or wealth can replace that. Please—” He pauses, and our eyes lock. “I’m begging you. Please don’t write me off. Please, just give me a chance to prove myself.”

  I start to say something, but my throat is so damn dry I don’t know if I can get any words out. My fingers tremble. My jaw clenches, and finally, very slowly, I say, “You left me at my mother’s funeral, all alone. Do you know what that did to me, Wells?” I start to cover my mouth, then manage to stop myself, because I have to keep it together.

  He looks like he might fall apart the second I say it, and he starts to look away, but then his eyes are right back on mine. His voice trembles, and he says, “I know, and I’m sorry.”

  I glare right at him because he’s saying the right things, but how can I trust his actions? What about the reality of the situation? How can I possibly believe he could handle what would come if I gave him another chance? “What about my father? What about the animosity th
ere? How could you possibly think that will ever go away? He’s my dad. He’s going to be a part of my life. It would never work, and you know it. What? Would I spend time with you, separately? Like a kid with divorced parents? I don’t want to be with someone who can’t be strong for me when I need them to be. I can’t be with someone who can’t stand my family. I have to be able to count on you one hundred percent of the time, not just when things are easy, but when they’re the most difficult. That’s when I needed you the most, and you weren’t there.” The tears start when I say my last sentence, and I thought I could keep it together, but I can’t. My hand comes to my mouth, because I want to believe what he’s saying so badly, but then I remember the look on his face in the funeral home. I’ll never forget that look. It’s burned into my memory forever.

  He nods. “I fucked up. I know I did. And this is me taking ownership of that, putting myself in a position of weakness in front of people who only value strength. This is me not making excuses. What I did was wrong, and I accept full responsibility. That’s what leaders do, right? In business and in their personal lives? They take ownership of their problems, and then proceed with a solution.”

  My lips mash into a thin line. “You think this is going to solve the problem?”

  He shakes his head. “No, but this is the first step I’m taking. Because I will never let you down again.” He glances over at the door to the conference room.

  Every eye in the room follows him, including mine.

  Covington hollers, “You can come in now.”

  My father walks through the door, and his gaze finds me at the head of the table. Now mouths are really on the floor around the table. My father is a notorious Wall Street felon, blacklisted in every circle there is. He’s deemed toxic by the Street, and anyone who touches him is deemed toxic too.

  Part of me wants to punch Covington in the face for exposing me like this, but at the sight of Dad, all the air leaves my lungs. I glance down to see there’s no ankle monitor. “What? How?” I feel dizzy. This isn’t possible.