I broke it off with her the night of the wedding when we were both drunk. It had started off as an argument because I wouldn’tagree to decorate the penthouse with items sourced from the auction house where she worked, even though she had, in her words, already promised her boss who was also at the wedding that I would.
I had asked her if she was just with me for money. Sam had yelled at me that of course she was, because how could I expect anyone to love me if my own mother didn’t love me. I left her there at the wedding and took the plane back to Manhattan.
I couldn’t fault her though, not really. She was right.
My own mother didn’t love me.
I was unlovable.
At first I had deluded myself into thinking my mom was going to come back for me eventually, that she just needed some time. That was what the social worker had promised me, anyways. Then I got older. I thought if I could just make enough money, amass enough power so that I could protect her, be able to give her anything she wanted, keep her safe, then she would want me back in her life.
But the letter I’d sent her with the magazine cover about me and my billions, offering her anything in the world, was returned to me partially burned. Then I wondered if maybe she hated me because I was male—that it wasn’t me, it was my gender, which would be understandable and not really my fault. Until she gave birth to a son and loved him dearly. I saw it plain as day, every single Tuesday.
My mom hatedme. There was something fundamentally wrong with me.
The first time I had ever truly felt normal was when I was with Lexi. Now she was realizing that I was not, in fact, normal.
I watched the redhead through the glass walls of my office. She seemed antsy as she sat at her desk. She was also pointedly not looking at me.
She hates me.
The best thing to do, the easiest thing to do, was to tell her we were done and have her transferred to another office.
But I couldn’t; my soul needed her. I wanted to bask in the light of her just a little while longer.
Selfish bastard.
I was my father’s son, wasn’t I, in the end.
I wasn’t giving Lexi up.
“Dealmaker of the century!” Marius knocked on the glass door and grinned at me.
I gave him a small smile.
“And you thought I was just going to France for vacation.”
“I never thought that,” Marius declared, walking in. “I know you don’t take vacations.”
I thought about the Florida trip I’d agreed to go on with Lexi.
If she even still wants you to go.
“You want to grab drinks over a late lunch and catch up?” Marius offered.
“Sure,” I said.
His mouth dropped open.
“For real?”
“Unless you were just being polite.”
“Hell no. You agreed. We’re going. Here’s your coat and your scarf. Do not bring that laptop. We are going to a nice place. Drinks on me,” he said, shutting the laptop. “Well, on the company card.”
“Spend it all and let accounting figure it out, right?”
“You seem happy,”Marius said, leaning back in the leather chair after we’d ordered.
