by J. L. Leslie
Shaking that off, I call Frankie. I’m disappointed to get her voicemail but I leave her a message, hoping she’ll get it soon.
“Frankie, I have an unexpected business trip to Italy. I apologize that it’s such short notice. I love you. Call me.” I disconnect and then dial her again. Voicemail again. “If you have your passport, I want you to come with me. I leave in three hours. Call me.”
I go back to my office and return a few phone calls from messages Daysha put on my desk. When I finish with that, I check my email, cleaning out the spam and solicitations, and munch on the food Frankie sent over.
Roger hasn’t called me, so I assume he isn’t accepting my offer. I’m anxious for an update from Graham on how the hostile takeover is going, so I give him a call. His assistant puts me through after a couple of minutes.
“I know we agreed you would call me but I’m heading out of the country for a few days and wanted an update before I leave,” I say.
“I was actually going to call you today. It wasn’t very difficult to convince the board that Roger Deviline is incapacitated. The butler’s account of his daily routine and appointments was enough to raise concern. Then, I showed them your prenuptial agreement and informed them the engagement is off. There is no one to step in as CEO. My reputation speaks for itself.”
“When do you close?”
“I’m meeting with the board again tomorrow for the official vote. I’ll be the proud CEO of Deviline Hotels by tomorrow afternoon.”
“Not for long,” I remind him.
“I’ll sell it to you for a good price,” he jokes.
“Remind me to buy you and Soraya dinner as a thank you.”
“This turned out to be fun once the initial stress passed,” he says. “As for dinner, no need for that, but we’ll take some food from F&C’s any day of the week.”
I laugh at that and agree. Free catering for life for him and Soraya. Well, I’ll be the one footing the bill, but it’s worth it.
I close everything down and grab my phone and keys. I stop at Daysha’s desk on my way out.
“Daysha, clear my schedule for the next week. I’ll be in Italy.”
Her eyes go wide but then she replies, “Yes, sir.” As I turn to leave, she calls after me. “Sir! I only want to say that you don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”
Confused, I simply nod and give Daysha a tight smile. I try Frankie once more while I drive to my house. Voicemail. I ignore the nagging feeling yet again that something isn’t right.
Forty-Nine
Frankie
I am a professional. I am a professional. I am a professional.
I repeat this mantra over and over in my head as I listen to Anneliese Deviline tell me all about her upcoming nuptials in Italy.
“I’m taking my father’s private jet over and we can accommodate you and one other staff person. Whatever supplies you need we’ll have ready for you.”
“It will depend on the menu.”
“It has to be Italian themed. I can give you creative liberty with that because, honestly, I don’t have time to go through your menu. We have to leave in two hours.”
Panic starts to set in. Two hours? I’m expected to fly to Italy with a woman I despise and watch her marry the man I love? Not to mention, cook them food?
“How many guests will be there?” I ask, my voice emotionless.
“It will be a small group. Ten maybe? Perhaps not that much. Can you handle that?” she asks.
“Of course.”
“Great. Make sure you and your staff have your passports. I’ll send a driver for you in an hour and he’ll take you to the airport.”
I nod, unsure how I’ll ever get everything together and pack in an hour. She smiles widely, her eyes raking over me.
“Did you really think he was going to leave me for you?” she asks, her smile never faltering.
Her words hit me hard. I did think he left her. That he chose me. That he loved me. How could I have been so wrong?
“Deliveries are done for the day. I think we should take the rest of the day off,” Claire says, walking in. “Oh, sorry.”
Anneliese doesn’t let the fact that my sister is standing there stop her from spewing more vindictive words at me. “We’re the type of people who take off to Italy and you’re the type of person who serves us. That will never change. You are nothing. No one.”
I quickly brush away the tear that rolls down my cheek. Claire sees me and purses her lips. She taps Anneliese on the shoulder and when she turns, she decks her.
Holy shit! My sister just punched Anneliese Deviline!
“I am getting married today!” she cries, her hands at her face.
“Good luck with that!” Claire says, grabbing her arm and ushering her toward the door. “Better yet, good luck to your husband! Find another caterer!”
She pushes her outside and slams the door. I burst out laughing between my tears. Seeing that bitch get put in her place has made this disaster almost bearable.
“We aren’t catering shit for her or that lying asshole she’s still engaged to!” Claire fumes. “They can eat dog food for all I care!”
I giggle, sniffling, and she comes around the counter and wraps her arms around me. We stand there with me crying and her letting me. She doesn’t say she told me so or tell me not to cry over Julian because he doesn’t deserve my tears. She lets me bawl my eyes out.
I cry over the fact that I was stupid enough to give him a second chance. I cry because I believed that he loved me. I cry because I love him. Most of all, I cry because I’m terrified that I won’t fall in love with anyone else again. Not the way I’m in love with him.
Fifty
Havoc
I have called Frankie at least four more times since I arrived at home, packed, and began traveling to the airport. It keeps going to voicemail, and I’m smart enough to know when someone is ghosting me.
Yes, she is a busy woman running F&C’s, but surely, she has enough time to take my call or at least call me back. I want her to come with me, and at the least, I want to tell her about my conversation with Graham.
Frustrated, I shove my phone into my pocket and decide I’ll figure out what’s going on between the two of us when I return.
“Business?” My father asks, arching an eyebrow at me.
“Something like that.”
“I know all about the redhead, Julian,” he says. “A caterer? Really?”
“When you met my mother, she was a waitress,” I remind him. “She and Gio were sharing a one-room apartment and barely making ends meet.”
“She had family wealth, land. What does this girl have?”
“It doesn’t matter to me what she has or doesn’t have.”
“She will have everything you have if you aren’t careful. Are you truly willing to throw away all that you have worked so hard for?”
“I will have the hotel chain,” I say. “Why are you undermining my business decisions? You haven’t called my decisions into question in years. Not since I was fresh out of college. I have made HLS a shit ton of money and I always deliver. I will deliver this time. You have my word.”
“You are grasping at straws here, Julian. Roger Deviline is too smart to fall for whatever scam you are concocting. There is only one choice here. Marry the Deviline girl and put your infatuation with this gold digger aside.”
“I have made my decision.”
He scoffs at that. “You have made a decision with your dick and not with your head. I understand, Julian, she is beautiful and is no doubt a great fuck from what I’ve seen. But she isn’t part of our world.”
“What you’ve seen?” I ask. “You planted the camera in my office.”
He doesn’t deny it. “You aren’t the only one who is capable of blackmail. Your fiancée is a very busy woman and her father still wishes to believe she’s his innocent little girl. I put the camera there for leverage. I always knew about her and Adam. It’s everyone else I wanted proo
f of. That’s why Roger agreed to give you the hotel chain to begin with.”
He leans down and pulls out some papers from his briefcase. He hands me the prenuptial agreement, but I notice it isn’t the same one Adam gave me.
“Three years, no heir, and you are immediately awarded ownership of Deviline Hotels. Otherwise, all of the videos will go viral, including the one where she fucked her future father-in-law.”
My father is smiling cockily as he reveals this to me. As if knowing he fucked Anneliese will change anything. He’s smug and arrogant, thinking he has outsmarted both Roger and me. The only thing that pisses me off about his revelation is the fact that he watched me and Frankie together.
“It changes nothing. My plan is already in motion. I don’t need to marry Anneliese.”
“You will thank me for this one day.”
The driver pulls to a stop and gets out, opening my father’s door first. He gets out and I follow behind him.
“What do you mean?” I ask and then take in my surroundings.
We are at the airport, but not where we would check in for a public flight. We’re at Roger Deviline’s private jet hangar. Anneliese peeks her head out of the jet and then descends the stairs.
“What the fuck have you done?” I ask.
“I am getting Deviline Hotels. You’re going to make sure of it. Do not let me down, Julian.”
Anneliese flings herself into my arms, peppering my cheek with kisses. “This is so exciting! We should’ve done this a long time ago!”
I detach her from me, pushing her away. “This is not happening.”
“We’re keeping it small,” Anneliese continues, ignoring me. “Only a handful of guests. Honeymooning in Italy was such a great idea.”
I study her, taking in her big-rimmed sunglasses and red nose. I reach up and pull off the glasses and almost gasp. Her left eye is blackened and bruised.
“I can cover it with makeup. It won’t affect the wedding photos,” she assures me.
I hand her the glasses, and she quickly puts them back on. I look between her and my father, not believing how they have schemed together for some sort of elopement.
“Tell you what, if you want a Havoc so badly, marry him,” I say to Anneliese, pointing to my father. “He’s desperate enough to be tied to you. The two of you deserve each other.”
I turn and walk away, heading back to the car. With any luck, I can get in touch with Frankie and find out why the fuck she’s ghosting me.
“You are losing everything you’ve ever wanted!” my father yells.
“No,” I say, shaking my head. “I have everything I want.”
I hope that’s still true.
Fifty-One
Frankie
I ignore my phone yet again. I know it’s Julian and I don’t want to hear his excuses. He’s on his way to be married. There is not an excuse on this planet that will make me forgive that. I will not be his mistress or whatever you want to call it. If he wishes to marry Anneliese and gain more power and money, that’s his choice.
“How many times has he called?” Claire asks.
After breaking the news to Erin that we wouldn’t be traveling to Italy, we closed up and decided to go shopping. Kyle is picking the kids up so we can shop till we drop.
“I’ve lost count,” I reply, sliding on a pair of strappy sandals.
There is nothing like a little shoe therapy to help you forget about your woes. I’m putting them back on the shelf and grabbing another pair when Claire gets my phone out of my purse.
“Holy cow!” she exclaims. “He has called over a dozen times. How in the world is he calling so often when he’s supposed to be getting on a plane?”
I shrug, not wanting to think about it. For all I know, he could be on Anneliese’s private jet and hiding in the bathroom so he can attempt to convince me to wait five years for him or still fuck him even though he’ll be married.
“Frankie, I have an unexpected business trip to Italy. I apologize that it’s such short notice. I love you. Call me.”
“Unexpected business trip? That’s seriously his excuse for running off and getting married?” I ask, rolling my eyes.
“If you have your passport, I want you to come with me. I leave in three hours. Call me.”
I drop the shoe I’m holding and ask Claire to replay it. I scramble to get my shoes back on and take my phone from her.
“He isn’t getting married!” I say, hurrying out of the store. “I am a complete idiot!”
Claire and Erin run after me, not bothering with the items they wanted to buy. Claire presses the button on her keychain to unlock the doors.
“I’ll drive!” she calls out, running around to the driver’s side. “Where to?”
“The airport! Oh my God, what if he’s gone already?”
“We’ll get you a flight anyway,” Erin assures me.
“Are you crazy? I can’t afford to fly to Italy.”
“I have a credit card for emergencies only,” she says. “This is definitely an emergency.”
Claire drives like a crazy woman, weaving in and out of traffic and even running a red light. The entire ride, I am kicking myself for not listening to his voicemails sooner. I was so afraid of what he was going to say. So afraid of hearing him confirm he was marrying Anneliese. It didn’t occur to me that she was lying. I should’ve known better.
“So, I’m confused,” Claire says. “Was he going to Italy?”
“Yes. I think so.”
“And so was Anneliese?”
“I guess.”
“But they’re not going to get married?”
“No. I don’t know that she was even telling the truth about going or if she somehow found out he was going. Either way, he isn’t going to Italy to marry her.”
I try calling him back and I get his voicemail. He’s probably gone already. He is on a flight to Italy thinking I’ve ignored him all day long. I’m too late.
“I don’t see any updates on social media,” Erin lets me know. “No more wedding talk, no photos, nothing.”
“She probably doesn’t want to show everyone that shiner I gave her,” Claire quips, pulling into the airport parking lot.
“Let me out up front!” I practically yell.
“We’ll catch up as soon as we get parked!” she promises.
She hits the brakes so hard that the car jerks to a stop, I jump out, flinging the door shut as I take off running toward the entrance.
When I get inside, I frantically start looking. The place is so crowded, and I fear I won’t find him even if he is here. I maneuver around people, desperately looking from side to side. I skip one of the lines and lean against the counter.
“Can you tell me if the flight to Italy has already left?” I ask, nearly out of breath. She glances at the man behind me who was waiting patiently in line. I turn back to him and apologize. “I promise this is all I need to know.”
She clicks on her computer keyboard, typing in the information. “We don’t have a commercial flight leaving for Italy today.”
Disheartened, I step away from the counter. The man who was waiting in line steps forward and hands over his ticket.
I’m in a daze as I walk through the airport toward the exit. Because of my insecurities, I believed a vindictive, manipulating woman, and that may have cost me my relationship.
Fifty-Two
Havoc
I sit on the floor outside of Frankie’s apartment. I knocked, but no one answered so I dropped to the floor and have been waiting here ever since. I run my fingers through my hair and heave out a sigh. I have no idea how long I’ve been sitting here. My phone died back at the airport.
“Havie! Daddy, it’s my friend, Havie!” Rory’s voice carries down the hallway and I see her running toward me.
I rise to my feet and catch her as she launches herself at me. I love how this kid jumps with absolute trust that I will catch her.
“Aunt Frankie’s not here,” she says. “But we
have pizza!”
A man, who I assume is her dad, approaches, a weary look on his face. He’s holding Makaila’s hand and carrying two pizzas while Seth walks behind them carrying a couple of grocery bags.
“You must be Kyle,” I say, and extend my hand.
He looks down at it with disgust. “And you must be the piece of shit who broke Frankie’s heart.”
Makaila tugs on his hand and I hear her whisper that he has to put money into the cuss jar.
“He’s not a piece of shit, Daddy,” Rory says. “He’s my friend!”
I’m grateful to the little girl for standing up for me but wince at her language. Her dad chuckles, shaking his head.
“I suppose if you’re Rory’s friend, then you deserve the chance to explain yourself. After all, I thought you were on a flight to Italy to get married.”
He unlocks the door and Makaila pushes it open. I put Rory down and she runs inside yelling for pizza. Seth puts the bags on the counter and goes to the sofa, phone in hand.
“I guess that’s what Frankie believes, too.”
Kyle puts the pizza on the counter and gets some plates out. As if on autopilot, I grab some glasses and start putting ice in them for drinks.
“Claire called and said your fiancée…er…ex-fiancée…came by F&C’s to get them to cater your secret wedding in Italy. She had some pretty harsh words to say to Frankie and my baby decked her.”
“What is it about those sisters and punching people?” I joke.
“They closed up early and went shopping and left me with babysitting duty.”
“It’s not babysitting if you’re the parent,” Seth calls from the living room.
“Teenagers,” Kyle grumbles. “Everything is perfect in the morning, gone to shit in the afternoon, and mellowed out by the evening.”
“You owe the cuss jar,” Seth adds. “Rory, too.”
