I frowned. Hovered my mouse over the delete button, then picked up my phone instead to dial the number he'd left at the bottom of the message about making sure we got a game in before the infamous Las Vegas summer weather set in.
"Rich Harrison."
"Rich, it's Cole." I drummed my fingers on the desk, realizing that in a serious departure from character, I'd failed to plan ahead and would have to improvise. "Just calling to say I don't believe I'll be able to get that game in before the summer."
"Oh, I see. Is this because of..." He trailed off, then seemed to choose to finish with, "…this, ah, incredibly sudden engagement of yours?"
There were many ways I could answer that question that would have ended this phone call right there. I decided to fish with a, "Possibly."
Rich audibly sighed. "What did she tell you about me?"
"I'm sure you're already aware," I answered.
"Cole, you should know the situation was untenable. I didn't have many choices where that situation was concerned."
"Yet all your choices ended with my fiancée getting hurt." I shouldn't have made this call, and I shouldn't have felt as angry as I did on Sunny's behalf. But here I was, and you know what my English merchant ancestors said: In for a penny, in for a pound.
"So you'll understand why you're no longer welcome at the Benton Golf Club or any other Benton Worldwide property," I told Rich. "And it probably goes without saying that you need to lose my email."
"Yes, I understand, but Cole, you need to understand I already had a family. Aretha would have?—"
I hung up without giving him a chance to explain his side of the story. He didn't even deserve that much from me. My blood boiled at the thought of him tricking Sunny into sleeping with a married man.
You mean like you're tricking her into sleeping with the grandson who plans to oust his grandmother from the board?a snide voice asked in the back of my head.
I frowned. That was new.
Am I...?I crooked my head.Am I trying to develop a conscience?
My business messaging app dinged before I could answer that question. And I smiled when I read the"Sunny just sent this about lunch"from Agnes.
But then I frowned even deeper when I read the forwarded message.
SUNNY:Hi, Agnes! Can you tell Cole sorry sorry sorry but I can’t make lunch and that I'll see him tonight.
I furrowed my brow. What did Sunny mean she couldn’t make lunch? And don't think I didn't notice she'd failed to provide an explanation.
I'd gotten to know Sunny well enough to observe that she only appeared to have two settings—at least when it came to us: overexplaining herself or very obviously keeping something from me.
So what was she keeping from me this time?
On a hunch, I asked Agnes to get Tomas on the line.
“Hello, Mr. Benton!" Tomas quite understandably sounded surprised to hear from me in the middle of the afternoon. He didn't know that keeping tabs on Sunny was precisely why I'd assigned a driver to her today."How can I help you?”
“Just a quick check-in. Sunny texted me that she couldn’t make it back for lunch.”
“Sí, she’s still in the restaurant. I’m waiting outside.”
I began to feel stupid for calling. Yet another non-controlled action Sunny had brought out in me.“I see. So she decided to go out with Nora instead?”
“Ah…no, not exactly, Mr. Benton. I think something might have happened. Ms. Johnson said the plan was to go to lunch with your brother, and she asked me to follow them to the restaurant."
Max. She’s with Max.Not the grandmother who adored her, but my estranged half brother who'd openly flirted with her at the CEO of the Year dinner.
"They’ve only been in there for a little while. Do you want me to go get her?"Tomas's voice broke through my red rage."Give her a message?"
I didn’t answer. Couldn’t answer for a good number of seconds as my hand squeezed around the phone, tight as a chokehold.
