Nathaniel's P.O.V.
"Um, sir?" An annoying voice spilled through the intercom system in my office just as I was getting ready to answer an important email.
"For fucks sake," I muttered under my breath before stabbing the button. "What?"
"There's a Chloe here--"
"There's a Chloe?" A painfully family voice screeched through the intercom, interrupting my secretary. "As if he knows any other Chloe. Why am I not on the V.I.P. list, Martha? Didn't I tell you to add me the last time I was here?"
"It's Marsha ma'am, and I told you before I'm not authorized to put any name on the--"
"Send her up," I growled irritably, clicking out of my email. "And put her on the fucking list."
"Right away, sir."
I rubbed my eyes wearily before knocking back the leftover scotch in the glass sitting on my desk. "Why are you here, Chloe?" I asked roughly as soon as I heard the door open, followed by her expensive shoes clicking against the marble floor.
"Do I need a reason to visit you?" She asked seductively, dropping her fur coat on the leather couch as she sauntered over to me. Her long blonde hair was pulled in a high ponytail showing off the diamond necklace around her neck that went with the bright pink strapless dress she wore.
"Yes," I stated in a bored tone.
The only reason I kept her around was because her father was one of my loyal business partners, but now that he recently retired, I had every reason to sever all ties with her, but she proved to be useful when it mattered hence why she was currently in my face twirling her pale manicured fingers around my tie instead of in another state torturing someone else. The intense fruity scent seeping from her pores burned my nose hairs, and I fought the urge to yank her skinny arms off my body.
Chloe laughed as if I said something funny and trailed her hand down my chest, stopping at the front of my pants where my cock remained still and unhardened despite her sensual touch. "I came to remind you about the event tonight."
"What event?"
She rolled her grey eyes and began unzipping my pants. "The charity event?"
Shit. I thought that wasn't for another year or so, but at least I knew why she was here, which meant her presence was no longer required.
"Mm," I nodded, pretending to remember as I pried her fingers off my pants, zipped it back up, and stood up to walk her out. "I'll be picking you up at ten."
Chloe glared at me as she snatched her jacket and shrugged it back on. "It starts at eight."
My jaw ticked before I corrected my answer. "I'll pick you up at seven-thirty then with a new set of jewelry to go with your dress," I added, knowing shiny and expensive shit was the key to her heart.
A huge smile spread across her face at the mention of jewelry, and just like that, she forgot why she was mad. "Sounds delightful," Chloe whispered, flinging her arms around my neck and grazing her lips against my ear. "Maybe I'll even let you fuck me in the back of the limo on our way there."
A wave of annoyance rolled through my body, but I played it off by tugging her head back using her ponytail, planting a small kiss at the base of her throat. "We both know you will, so don't bother wearing any panties."
She moaned softly at my words and nodded vigorously before I pushed her away and practically shoved her out the door freeing my office of her nauseating scent. I walked back to my desk and poured myself a generous amount of scotch, knocking it back in one gulp while simultaneously trying to figure out how the hell I was going to survive an entire night surrounded by wealthy idiots and a clingy date.
"Long day?" Frank, my long-time driver, who was more like a father, asked as soon as I slid inside the limo after work.
I dragged my hands down my face and leaned back against the seat. "Yeah," I mumbled, staring up.
"I knew you'd forget about the charity tonight, so I had a tux tailored and sent to the penthouse. Is there anything else you'd like me to do?"
This was why Frank was the only person I had never fired. He was always several steps ahead of me, remembering the little things I couldn't be bothered to keep in my brain for mere seconds.
"Chloe expects another set of jewelry tonight. Take my card and go to the usual spot. Get whichever one looks most expensive but don't take too long; we'll be picking her up at eight-thirty."
"I assume you mean seven-thirty," Frank corrected. "Seeing that the event starts at eight."
"Mhm." My mind was already elsewhere, plotting, planning, and since I had been interrupted earlier, I still had that important email to get back to.
"Be ready by seven, Nate; I'll be here to pick you up then."
I nodded swiftly and climbed out of the limo, making my way to the penthouse and up the elevator. When the doors opened, and I walked into the apartment, the weight of the world slid off my shoulders momentarily as I stopped and stared up at the breathtaking painting sitting above the fireplace in the living room. Every time I walked in here, I allowed myself a moment--just a moment to get lost in the past. I closed my eyes and tugged my tie off, remembering the smell of the ocean, the warm sand between my toes, her bright smile, her laugh--her beautiful fucking laugh that was music to my ears, her dark curly hair blowing in the wind wrapping around her face, the same face I saw every time I closed my eyes. But whenever I wasn't looking at the painting holding onto the memories of the beach, that night replayed in my head over and over again.
The night my beating heart got ripped out of my chest, the night I wished I could change. The night I broke the one person I promised to cherish and love for the rest of my life. Every single fucking detail of that night was etched and carved into my brain as a painful reminder of what I lost as if I could ever forget. I remember the way her tears slid off her cheeks onto my hands that were cupping her face, I remember every shaky breath she took, I remember physically feeling her heart and mine breaking simultaneously, I remember her words, those fucking words that left me on my knees begging even though I knew there was nothing I could do or say to stop her from walking out on me, but most of all, I remember Carter's words on the phone, those two gut-wrenching words that finished me: she's gone.
My eyes snapped open; nostrils flared as something tightened in my chest. It'd been four years since that night, but the aching feeling that embedded itself deep in my bones whenever I thought about her still felt as fresh as yesterday. Tearing my gaze away from the painting, I grabbed the garment bag draped over the head of the couch with the tux inside and climbed up the stairs to my room, where I showered and got dressed. Thankfully Frank picked a simple black tux that would be easy to match whatever color Chloe's dress was, saving me from having to hear her bicker about color coordinating.
