by Messer Stone
You’re overreacting, whispers a voice in my head. He’s got a lot going on. He’s stressed. Don’t read too much into this.
A different, less sympathetic voice chimes in. And you don’t have a lot going on? Your family is indebted to a mob boss, and a dangerous one at that.
But how would he know that? You didn’t tell him.
The voices go on, back and forth, point and counterpoint, until I can’t take it anymore. I force my thoughts to focus only on matters pertaining to work so I can at least try to do my job.
Sitting down at my desk, I wake up the computer and pull up Parker’s email account. I send off an email to Ben Richardson— a headhunter that wants to do business with the Callahan Group— apologizing for the late cancelation and offering to reschedule.
When I go to close out the window, I recently received, unopened email catches my eye. Particularly, the sender.
Lola.
The name sparks a memory. An important one. Lorelai mentioned her at the Gala, said that she was an ex-girlfriend of Parker’s. One that apparently turned him off the idea of marriage and commitment.
What did she call her again? A back-stabbing slut?
Unable to resist, I click on the email, my heart thumping loudly as I read.
Parker,
I will never be able to thank you enough for what you did for me. To drop everything and fly to Miami at the drop of the hat, just to come and help me? It reminded me of the amazing man you are.
I’m leaving Trevor. It was the biggest mistake of my life, choosing him over you. After what I did, I’m sure this doesn’t change anything. But I still thought you should know.
I have no idea what the next step is for me. For now, I’ll be staying with family in Tampa. I’ll give you a few days to process this… but then I’d like to call you. Maybe we could work out a time for me to visit you in New York? If nothing else, I’d love the chance to catch up.
Love,
Lola
I re-read the email six times before a thought occurs to me. This email is timestamped from late last night, which means Parker’s trip to Miami must have been recent.
But in the weeks that I’ve known him, he hasn’t gone out of town. Except…
Jealousy and desperate love burns hot in my gut as I pull up the log, kept by one of his assistants, that records all of his out of state travel. I’m not sure why such a thing is a necessity for a big time CEO, but I was told that it has something to do with legal protection.
The second I open the log, my suspicions are confirmed. The most recent entry is from the night we met.
Destination: Miami, Florida
Purpose: Personal
I sit there for a long time, trying to decide how I’m supposed to feel about this. Because the truth of it is, I’m pissed. And hurt. Even though I know I don’t really have a right to be.
We were nothing to each other, then. And yet, even on that first night, I felt such an intense connection to him. I was so sure he’d felt it too. How could he have though? He cut our evening short, in order to go help her. It’s obvious he still cares for her.
And now she wants him back….
Pain and anxiety overwhelms me at the thought. I’d only ever let myself think of my time with Parker as a finite thing. I knew it would end eventually… just not yet. I only just found him. I’m not ready to let him go yet.
It hits me like a blow to the chest that I never really believed that we were temporary. My brain might have thought that. But in my heart, we’ve always been forever.
The walls start to close in on me, and yet, I feel adrift. Alone. Unanchored and untethered, floating aimlessly in a vast, stormy sea.
What have I done? Have I let myself believe that this was a fairytale? That Parker’s a white knight, storming into my life, slaying the dragons that hunt me? That he would give me a happily ever after?
The approaching sound of high-heels clicking against the floor pulls me from my thoughts. When I look up, my mood further plummets as I take in Blair Chapman’s flawless smiling face.
She nods at Parker’s closed door. “Can you see if he has a minute?”
Somehow I manage a smile as I pick up the phone on my desk. “Sure. One sec.”
I push the intercom button on the base unit and wait. A few seconds later, he answers me. “Yes?”
I almost wince at the icy tone of his voice. “Blair Chapman is here to see you.”
He answers without hesitation. “Send her in.”
Clearing my throat, I put the phone back in its cradle, reminding myself not to overreact.
There is nothing going on between Parker and Blair. He told you himself.
He also told you that Blair wants something to be going on between them. And you made your feelings about the situation abundantly clear. Why would he agree to see her?
What was he supposed to do? Kick her out? Their families are close, remember? He’s in a bad situation. Don’t jump to conclusions.
“Go on in,” I say with an awkward, forced cheer.
“Thanks.”
She probably just stopped by to say hello. As busy as he is right now, she’ll be gone in ten minutes. Tops.
As soon as the door is shut behind her, I start counting the seconds. The endless, never ending seconds. Ten minutes come and go, and jealousy wells up in me like a slowly rising tide.
I hate, hate feeling jealous, but in this case, I can’t help it. The way I feel about Parker is all-consuming. It makes me feel desperate and painfully needy. Because he’s a gorgeous, charming, billionaire CEO. He could have any woman he wanted. And I’m nobody. A high school dropout from Long Island. Why would he want me?
Blair stays in his office for just under forty-five minutes and when she finally comes out again, she’s got this stupid, smug smile on her face. I can’t stop myself from glaring at her, but it doesn’t matter. She doesn’t even notice me as she walks by.
For the rest of the day, I wait for Parker to come out of his office. To speak to me. To notice me. The longer he fails to do that, the worse I feel.
I know we’re in the office and we have to be professional. But it’s not like I want a massive public display of affection. I just want him to acknowledge me in some way. Is that too much to ask?
The day drags on and nothing changes. He eats lunch alone in his office and doesn’t ask me to accompany him to any of his afternoon meetings. By five o’clock, I’m utterly despondent and I hate it.
I need him so much more than I ever realized and it makes me feel so horribly vulnerable. What’s worse, is that I start to doubt that Parker is the man he said he was.
By six o’clock, I’m beginning to think the worst.
Maybe this was his game the entire time. Charm me and woo me until I finally gave it up and slept with him. Before leaving me out in the cold.
If that was all he wanted from you, wouldn’t he have slept with you on that first night?
Maybe he just has a thing against paying for sex. Maybe he wanted you to give it up for free.
Stop being stupid. If all he wanted was to fuck you and dump you, why would he have gone through so much trouble to help you?
The debate of my inner thoughts is silenced when Parker finally emerges from his office, wearing his coat and carrying his briefcase.
I force my eyes to stare at my computer screen, pretending to me deeply immersed in a quarterly report. My heart pounds furiously as I sense him walking towards me, kicking into overdrive as he stops by my desk.
“Mercy.”
All day, his tone with me has been cold and distant.
Now, it’s as though he’s been lost in the desert, and my name on his lips is like water. It’s visceral. Like he’s as desperate and needy for me as I’ve been for him.
Somehow, I resist the urge to look up at him. “Yes?”
He steps closer. “Walk out with me.”
My hands shake as I key meaningless things into my computer. “I’d like to finish this up b
efore I leave. You go ahead.”
The touch of his finger to my chin makes me gasp, as he tilts my face up to meet his gaze, the fire in his eyes scorching me and stripping me raw.
“I’m afraid I insist,” he says, carefully. Deliberately.
Sighing in resignation, I shutdown my computer and stand up. He beats me to the coat rack, obviously planning to help me into it, like he has so many times before.
Suddenly, the act feels intimate and so I take the coat from him, slipping into it without his help.
The walk to the elevator is awkward and silent. I’m still so confused and he has yet to offer any sort of explanation. I feel like I’m going crazy.
The car arrives seconds after Parker presses the call button. We step inside and the doors slip closed.
“I’m sorry,” he says softly as we begin our descent.
In the reflection of the doors, I can see that he’s still looking straight ahead. And so, I do the same.
There’s so much I want to say, so many questions in my head. In the end, when I finally open my mouth, all I do is ask, “Why?”
“It just has to be this way. For a little while.” I feel him inch the tiniest bit closer to me. “I don’t know who’s watching, or when. I can’t take a risk of exposing our relationship before the time is right.”
“So you act like I’m not even there?” I ask, the hurt shining clearly in my voice. “Like I don’t matter?”
“Don’t,” he growls. “Don’t say things like that when I can’t hold you.”
“Hold me?” I laugh bitterly. “You won’t even look at me.”
“I can’t.” His voice sounds even more strained. “When I look at you, I can’t hide what I feel for you.”
My breath catches, my eyes turning to the floor indicator over the door, watching as the numbers get lower and lower. “What do you feel for me?”
It takes him a minute to answer. “I think you know.”
When I hear the faint trace of fear and uncertainty in his voice, I soften, despite myself. He sounds unsure and insecure— the same way I feel. Maybe I’m not the only vulnerable one here. At least not when it comes to matters of the heart.
“Will we always be a secret, Parker?” I ask, though I’m not sure I can stand to hear the answer.
In the door’s reflection, I watch his head snap up in alarm.
“No,” he says, quickly and vehemently. “It’s complicated and I don’t have time to explain. But the situation is complicated. Delicate. I have to make sure I handle it right. But I promise, one day soon, I’ll tell the whole world that I’m your man. I’ll rent out billboards. Hell, I’ll buy airtime for a Super Bowl AD if I have to.”
Despite everything, I almost want to laugh. Still, anxiety sits like a stone on my chest. I want to ask him about Lola. About Blair. But the lobby floor is fast approaching and we’re almost out of time.
“Trust me, Mercy,” Parker whispers, just before the doors open.
And just like that, he’s a million miles away again. “Have a good night, Ms. Chase.”
Before I can respond, he disappears into the crowded lobby, leaving me to stare after him.
In a daze, I walk outside and somehow manage to make it to the right Subway station. My train is still a few minutes away so I find an empty bench and sit down, closing my eyes as I rub at my temples. I hardly notice when someone takes the seat next to mine.
Without warning, my new bench mate addresses me in a low, gruff voice, making me jump.
“Mercy Chase?”
A million internal alarm sounds go off as I turn to look at the man beside me. He has the look of a polished business man, complete with an expensive looking suit. But I can sense something sinister simmering just under the surface. His jet black hair is slicked back and he chews on a toothpick as he reads the paper, pretending not to notice me.
I swallow hard. “Who are you?”
“I’m nobody.” He turns a page. “You owe my boss quite a large sum of money. I assume you’re aware of this?”
I glance around at other commuters on the platform, but no one is paying us any attention. “I don’t owe anyone money. My dad—”
“From what we’ve heard, your old man is as good as dead. Useless to us.” Without looking up, he turns the page again. “Which means his debt is now yours.”
Forcing myself not to panic, I speak calmly, keeping my voice even. “Surely your boss can be sympathetic to the—”
“You’ve had his sympathy. Almost a year’s worth of it. But we know who you’re working for now. And we are no longer sympathetic.”
Terror seizes my heart as he folds up his newspaper and stands. “You’ve got 48 hours to deliver the $135k. In cash.”
A minute later, he’s gone.
CHAPTER 25
Parker
To me, the concept of Hell has always been abstract. The promise of eternal suffering that lies beyond life. A threat that hangs over our heads, a lingering whisper in the minds of even the most staunch atheists.
I’m not a religious man myself, but I certainly, on some vague level, buy into the idea of an afterlife.
Still, Hell has never been real to me. In my mind, it had no shape. No real definition.
Hellfire. Damnation. Eternal suffering. All of it just a shadow of something that might or might not exist.
Now, though, as I make the commute to my home on Fifth Avenue, Hell is more real to me than the Manhattan sidewalk just outside the car window. It has a shape. A color. A place. A name.
Hell for me is a world without Mercy. It’s a life where she’s not mine and I’m not hers. A horrific alternate reality where we exist as strangers.
What I need to do is push the deal with Stuart-Graham through. Once it’s done, my father will take my mother on that vacation he’s been promising. While he’s out of town, I’ll start taking steps to go public with Mercy.
Lorelai’s job will be to sit down with Oliver at some point while he’s in New York next week. She’s very good at getting information from people without them realizing it. With our uncle being the moron that he is, he should easily divulge what he recalls about the night he introduced Mercy into my life. If he remembers anything at all.
Even in the event he does remember something, I’m not worried he’ll blab. He’s got no great love for gossip and he despises my father, so I don’t have to worry about them swapping secrets anytime soon. And just to be safe, I’ll throw in a fancy new toy to inspire his silence. A new yacht, perhaps, or a villa in France. Whatever he wants.
Once the Oliver thread is no longer loose, the only real obstacle will be my father and his distrust of anyone without means. For some reason, Silas doesn’t trust people who don’t have money. I suspect that’s rooted in whatever ruthless lengths he went to when he was working his way up from poverty.
For some, no threat is more powerful than that of karma.
But, as long as Mercy’s brief career as an escort is kept buried, we’ll be okay. My father will still make a hell of a spectacle of it, but he won’t be able to hurt us. Not really. The worst he could do is go to the board, convince them to fire me unless I cut ties with Mercy. But he won’t be able to do that. Not if I can prove that my relationship isn’t a threat to the company. x
Sure, the age gap between us isn’t ideal. But that’s surmountable.
Living without her, however, is not.
I have my driver swing by a cellular store, where I purchase a burner phone. It’s probably a bit over the top, but I want a way to contact Mercy that the Callahan Group won’t have any access to.
By the time I’m striding through the lobby of my building, the phone is completely set up. As I ride in the elevator, I program a single number— Mercy’s— into the contacts.
Glancing at my watch, I realize she’s likely not quite home yet, so I decide to wait a bit before calling her.
When the private elevator doors open, I slip out of my jacket as I step into the foyer of my penthouse.
Miles is waiting to take my jacket, the expression on his face unusually stiff, even for him.
“Evening, Miles,” I say to the valet as I stride past him. “Everything alright?”
“Sir,” he says, falling into step behind me. “I apologize, I tried to send her away but she insisted—”
“What?” I ask, stopping in my tracks and turning to face him. “Who?”
There are very few people who have the access code that allows use of my private elevator. There are even fewer people that Miles would hesitate to call security on.
“Ms. Chapman arrived about twenty minutes ago,” he says, looking anxious. “She said you specifically asked her to come here and wait for you. I didn’t think you’d want me to kick her out.”
I close my eyes and let out a frustrated groan. Blair. Now, she’s making up lies and breaking into my home. She’s trying my patience. I’ve been sympathetic, up to this point, because she is an old friend and I do care about her. And of course, Miles is right. I wouldn’t have wanted him to throw her out. With our families being so close, something like that would cause untold drama.
Like with so many things in my life these days, it’s a situation that must be handled delicately.
My heart aches for Mercy. The one thing in my world that isn’t complicated.
“It’s alright, Miles. I’ll handle it.”
He nods as I turn away, striding through the apartment, in search of my unwanted houseguest.
Things with Blair are slowly getting out of hand. When we talked at the Gala, I thought I made it pretty clear that I wasn’t interested in being anything more than her friend. And she seemed perfectly agreeable to that. So when she showed up at my office today, unannounced, I thought it was nothing more than a friendly drop in.
Much to my chagrin, she ate up a huge chunk of my day, hem-hawing around the topic of us getting together and becoming engaged.
Saying things like—
“My mom and your mom spend all their time discussing the best wedding venues. Aren’t they ridiculous?
And—
“Is it really such a crazy idea though? We do make a beautiful couple.”
And—
