Chapter Six
Lauren
Twelve hours later,I stumble out of the office, completely exhausted. My head’s spinning from all the jargon and different scenarios we ran through for how to stop Cozza in itstracks.
I want a martini—scratch that, Ineeda martini. Probably more than one, if I’m being honest. The W Hotel’s just down the street and their bartender makes the best drinks in town. It’s my go-to place when I need to unwind after a long day, and it’s on my way home. The dark lighting and calming colors make it the perfect atmosphere to gather my thoughts andrelax.
I place my order, shrug off my knee-length Michael Kors coat, and take a seat on a barstool, far from anyone who may want to chitchat. I watch the bartender mix the martini, waiting for my first sip while my mouth salivates and I take in my exhausted features in the mirror behind thebar.
Being on top causes more stress than I could ever fully explain to another person not in my shoes. Every employee, shareholder, and board member looks to me for leadership. Who could I go to for help when there are moments that make me question mysanity?
Noone.
There isn't a single person I could share my doubts, fears, or moments of madness with who wouldn’t consider me weak. Not even my family would understand the weight I have on my shoulders. Therefore, I turn to the only good listener I know–vodka.
It helps to take the edge off without me having to spill my guts to a stranger and end up with a prescription for something that would numb my mind and make me useless as CEO. I need to stay sharp. I need to be alert and aware of the people trying to take me down and destroyInterstellar.
I lift the glass to my lips, inhaling the salty splendor before I take a smallsip.
Heaven.
“Is this seat taken?” a man asks at my right, interrupting my moment of bliss as the second mouthful slides down mythroat.
I motion toward the empty seat without a word, not bothering to look at him. The last thing I want to do is make small talk with a stranger. Talking means not drinking. Not drinking meansthinking.
My mind’s too much of a mess, and I need to calm the chaos inside if I’m ever going to get tosleep.
Ignoring his presence, I continue savoring each sip and stare at the picture hanging above the mirror behind the bar. It’s a simple work—an aerial view of the Chicago skyline at night. Each building is lit up, standing tall andbeautiful.
Everything looks unimportant from so high in the air. The people are invisible from above, the city appearing as lonely as I feel. The struggles, fears, and panic below can’t be seen, but they are happening in different people’s lives at the moment that photo wassnapped.
I may dislike Trent and regret every moment I spent in his bed, but there’s one thing I miss—being close to someone. Working with him made it easy to share the day-to-day challenges I felt while climbing the corporate ladder. He understood. But in the end, it wasn’t enough to keep me at hisside.
I had my martini, the bar, and an empty apartment, but no complication from a jealous boyfriend. Some things had to be put on hold in order to attain the level of success I’ve achieved in such a short time. Relationships often led to marriage, which led to kids. I didn’t have time to devote to a family and still work to my best ability atInterstellar.
Setting my glass down, I rest my cheek on my hand and twirl the stem of the glass between my fingertips. I keep staring at the photo, wondering if I’d make a difference in the world. After my time passes, would I have created enough of an impact to make all the sacrifices worth it? What are wealth and success worth if there’s no one there to savor the moment withyou?
“Is it always this chilly inMay?”
His sexy accent makes the hair on the back of my arm stand straight up as if being beckoned by the deeppurr.
“Yes.” I’m almost frozen in place with my hand still on myglass.
When he lifts his hands to his mouth, blowing into his palms before rubbing them together, I almost sneak a glance, but something stopsme.
“I’ll never get used to thecold.”
“No one everdoes.”
He pulls his stool closer, and I catch a whiff of his expensive cologne. “Why live here,then?”
Between his scent and the sound of his voice, I know I’m a goner if he’s handsome. “It’s where I was born and where I’ll die.” Even when I went to school in Boston, I longed for the grittiness ofChicago.
“No one is ever trapped. Why notmove?”
“I work here. It’s where my life is, and I also love this city.” I take another sip, keeping my eyes straightahead.
He finally takes a sip of his drink. “It’s beautiful for anAmericancity.”
