GG: Please. I could lose my career even telling you that much. Why would I risk everything over a lie?
GG: Why would I risk us over a lie?
If I cared enough to respond, it would have been along the lines of better to be killed by an enemy rather than stabbed in the back by a friend. Not that she’d understand.
“Boss, you’re late for your audit and assurance meeting.”
Layla tentatively interrupted me, but beneath her concern was an iron will. She’d protected me from most interruptions since my failed dinner with Carlynn. Actually, she’d protected my team and the rest of the executive from my attitude. Piss me off and watch your budget get slashed. Yes, I could be a vengeful prick at times, and Layla had the emotional intelligence to protect me from myself.
“I thought I had a team to delegate to.”
“Scott, I’d normally send your proxy, but they are looking over the consultant’s report.”
“The real report or the secret Mason version?” If anyone knew, Layla would.
“There is only one report, unless you know something that I don’t,” she deadpanned back. At least I could count on someone to have my back. It would have been impossible for Layla to ignore the loud phone calls and the coffee cup that lost its life after being flung against the wall.
It seemed Mason and I couldn’t go a day without a sparring match. Verbal or otherwise. As for Darius, he knew well enough to stay away. I still hadn’t forgotten or forgiven him for making a play for Carlynn.
Fake or not, Darius had crossed the line, again.
Now I needed to destroy or be destroyed.
If only I’d gone to the mountains instead of to Melbourne. Put my body to the test climbing a rock face. Put my life in the hands of people who knew all about trust.
Instead of fake friends and back-stabbing colleagues.
No, it wasn’t my colleagues who were the enemy. Now that Mason had seen my full financials, understood the breadth of assets under my control, he understood. My Softli salary had been my gambling play money. Mason understood and had decided to bury the report.
I’d been patient, believing Mason was smart enough to connect the dots. In the last day, Mason had come to realize if the Board knew I could walk away at any time, they’d see it as a risk. When money didn’t matter, I could name my own price—and that could be Mason’s job.
After all, who better to run an international tech giant than the successful CFO.
Mason wasn’t my friend, but he was no longer my main enemy.
She had been sleeping in my bed, looking up with those innocent violet eyes and making promises she never intended to keep.
“Boss, the audit committee?”
“Yeah, fine. Thanks, Layla.”
Gathering up my laptop and a couple of files, there was nothing really for me to come back for. “How about you take a couple of days off. I’m going to work out of my home office and there’s no reason for you to be here if I’m not.”
“Should I tell Mr. Winters?”
“I’ll update him after the audit meeting.”
GG: Can we please talk?
No. We had nothing to talk about. Eventually Carlynn would figure that out and move onto another client and another mark.
I’d loved the woman who’d been willing to tear me apart.
I’d trusted her and had even bought a fucking property to save her skin. I’d been willing to go begging to Mason, just to have my good deed thrown in my face. The people who should have known and trusted my integrity, had called it into question.
Assholes.
And now, I was sitting in the audit and assurance meeting which was all about corporate governance and integrity. They trusted me, when people who knew me better, didn’t.
The world had gone mad.
“I hope you don’t mind if I drop in?” Mason asked, not waiting for an answer before joining the meeting as if he bloody well owned the company.
“We were about to go through the forward audit workplan,” I snorted, scarcely hiding my newfound disrespect. “Unless you would like to take over the meeting, after all, you are the CEO.”
“Not at all, I only dropped in to get your honest opinion of the consultant report.”
Mason wore a pale blue casual business shirt over tailored jeans. Unbuttoned at the top and sans the tie. Looking more best friend than corporate tycoon.
Our last argument had taken its toll. On our friendship and working relationship. Mason greeted the committee individually before coming back to me. “I know that Scott here has been trying to get me to focus on the debt book for months. Well, he and the report have gotten my attention. Whatever you need to implement the recommendations—let me know. You all have my complete confidence.”
Too bad Mason hadn’t given me his complete confidence a month or even a week ago.
Life was too short for this shit.
I didn’t need this job, or the money. Hell, I didn’t even need this lifestyle.
“Can I have a word?” I asked as Mason got up to leave as quickly as he’d arrived.
“Sure.” Mason was full of smiles, assuming one non-apology was enough to mend fences. All it had done was set me free.
Closing the door behind us, I waited until the hallway cleared. “You fucked me over.”
“This again?” Mason snorted. “Mate, I was looking out for Softli.”
“That’s all I’ve ever done. You’ve sat in meetings with me. You’ve read my reports. You’ve heard me go into bat for this company time and time again. The market loves you, because of me. The shareholders love you, because of me. The executive gets to fund their pet projects, because of me.”
Mason took a step back, “It wasn’t personal, and no one is happier than me that the report proved—”
“What! The report proved me innocent even though I didn’t even know I was being accused of something?”
“You’re not completely innocent here.”
“I’m going to be working from home.”
I ignored Mason’s throwaway line. If he wanted to goad me into an argument, he’d lose. Otherwise, he could give me space and time to decide whether life was too short to put up with this bullshit any longer.
“For how long?”
“As long as it takes.”
Mason held my gaze, eventually holding out his hand, “We’ve been friends a long time. There is no one I trust more or value more, other than my wife.”
“You have a fucked-up way of showing it,” I sniggered, but my rage had finally lost its heat. I’d been heard. Reluctantly, I shook Mason’s hand. “All of this could have been avoided if you’d just asked.”
Driving home could have taken ten minutes, but I decided to take the scenic route up to the central coast, feeling the Mustang hug the curves and burn up the straights. Harnessing the power of my car into the changes I needed to make in my life.
Cut her loose.
Stay at Softli until the quarterly dividend came through and then have a serious chat with Mason about the future.
They’d implement her recommendations, and Mason could bring her in as his special consultant as much as he liked.
I’d get over her by seeing her in the office every day. Treating her like someone I used to know. Not even with the coolness of a scorned lover, but with a blank nothingness that showed I never gave a damn in the first place.
Two hours later, I’d done the full loop and pulled into my parking garage. I’d make time to get away to the mountains this weekend. Jarryd could live without me and the cards had suddenly lost their appeal.
I felt refreshed, in control and confident that I could get over Carlynn without hitting self-destruct.
She wasn’t worth it.
Well, she was, but I didn’t want her to be.
All positive thoughts and plans disintegrated the moment I logged on at home. The simple sight of the Softli logo was enough to remind me of what I’d given to my career, the company—and what I’d lost.
/>
No marriage could sustain executive hours. Every month there were the end-of-month accounts and reporting, then there were all the tax deadlines. Twice I’d chance my hand at love, and both times had crashed and burned because of Softli.
A sleepless night didn’t improve my mood.
Not being able to stomach breakfast any more than I’d been able to face making dinner last night, I tried to get on top of my inbox. Apparently, everyone needed my thoughts on how to implement Carlynn’s report.
Fuckers.
The Softli logo taunted me.
Reminding me of my failings.
Urged and taunted me to go, fuck the world. To head out of town, find an impossible rock face to climb, to take up base jumping, or even drive across the Simpson Desert just to clear my head.
Mason had found love by changing his name and escaping to Alice Springs. Why couldn’t I?
Instead, I updated my professional online profile.
Within half an hour, three head hunting companies reached out to see if I was in the market for a change. Ego-boosting flattery. Still, their eagerness gave me pause to think. Was I really prepared to walk away from Softli?
The answer came surprisingly fast and unequivocally.
Abso-fucking-lutely!
Needing to draft the replies with a calm head, I flagged them for tomorrow. Deciding to make me my own priority, I opened a new bottle of thirty-year-old Scotch; savoring the fragrance that very few appreciated. The only view worthy was from the balcony off my loungeroom. Instead of ocean views, if I could ignore the city skyline, it was the mountains calling my name.
To hell with the early hour, it wasn’t every day a man contemplated life altering decisions.
My relationship was a bust.
My career with Softli about to be severed.
I deserved something to take the edge off the nerves; or to justify my next steps.
I offered the mountains a toast to Mason. Who knew, but didn’t trust me. The man who’d set Carlynn on a quest to see if I was embezzling. I took a sip for every betrayal, trying to comprehend what the fuck I’d ever done to deserve Mason’s distrust.
Yeah, if he’d sacked me or pushed me out after the mess with Darius, I’d have understood. Hell, at the time, I’d offered my resignation only for Mason to tear it up with words of loyalty and respect.
Screw that.
I’d never bragged, but I’d also never hidden my passion for cards. If Mason had any problems, then he should have granted me the respect of facing me man-to-man.
We could have walked away from this as friends.
I emptied the third glass with a toast to Mason Winters, my former friend. Not wasting a drop toasting Softli the business; it was the people who had made the company my home. All for nothing.
The sun was almost at its peak before I decided to switch to champagne. The perfect drop to toast the perfect woman.
The bottle had her name on it and every sip was as smooth as her lips.
Damn the sexy bitch! How many times had I asked her if there was something I needed to know? If there was something I should be worried about?
Damn, I fucking loved her.
I stumbled and dropped the glass. Shards shattering across the floor. I’d probably be finding fragments for months.
The spilt champagne was a sign and I switched back to Scotch. The first step in moving past Carlynn was to count all the ways and reasons I loved her.
From the way she held her head to the side when listening, watching so intently that the speaker thought they were the only person in the world; how she rotated her ankle three times before getting out of a car—but refused to admit her demand for three ice cubes was in any way related to OCD. She’d made me laugh at the strangest and even most inappropriate times, forced me to see the lighter side of life when I only wanted to see the dark.
Another empty glass.
The refill leaving little in the bottle.
I needed to purge her from my veins.
Carlynn Rush was infuriating, intoxicating and infatuating.
She’d be difficult to get over, but I didn’t believe in impossible. All I needed was a new city and new career.
Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.
Only two people had the nerve to try and contact me at midday on a weekday. Mason or Carlynn.
Either could go to hell.
Buzz. Buzz.
They were safer by me not answering the door. My honesty might offend.
Within seconds, the next buzz was from my phone.
Darius: Heard you either need a friend or a kick up the ass. Open the bloody door, D.
Thanks, but no thanks. Darius was about to get an early Christmas gift, my resignation. Maybe I’d even giftwrap Carlynn’s torn thong.
Buzz. Buzz.
Fuck the guy’s tenacity.
Darius: Don’t make me take extreme measures to break into your unit, because you know I will. D.
My feet found their own way to the security buzzer. The last time we’d had it out, both of us ended up cooling our heels in jail and I still wore the scar. If Darius was stupid enough to come here, he could call his own ambulance.
“Got anything to drink?”
Darius didn’t bother with introductions, making himself at home and finding a clean tumbler.
“Do you really expect me to waste my best Scotch on you?”
“How about we finish this bottle, and then I’ll order something better. After all, from what I heard, I’m the only one here who’s still got a job.”
“I’ve still got a job unless you’re about to give me the news that Mason is too gutless to give me himself.”
It should have fazed me that Mason could call time out. It didn’t.
“She really did a number on you?” Darius at least had the grace to top up my glass first.
“Wouldn’t be the first woman, and probably won’t be the last. At least I have a type; sexy intelligent women who know how to screw me over.”
“If that was her reasoning, why did she spend most of yesterday afternoon sobbing in my office?”
“Did you—”
Why did I bother asking? Of course, Darius would have taken full advantage of the situation.
“Mate, I already told you, my life’s complicated enough. She was sobbing at your secretary’s desk and Layla had the good enough sense to hide Carlynn in my office. The last thing we needed was for the entire executive floor to know you were involved with the consultant whose report is turning their lives upside down.”
“They’ll read all about it once they get the other report.”
“Don’t you understand; that was a private report. No one else is ever going to see it, not even the auditors. You should have realized that yesterday at the meeting.”
“Mason has an obligation to give them the report, and if I have to step down as CFO then the market and the Board are going to want an explanation.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Darius topped up both drinks, again.
“Tell you what exactly? The fact that I was sleeping with the consultant?”
“I have to hand it to you, who would’ve thought the sexy Carlynn Rush would be interested in a boring CFO.” I knew Darius wanted a reaction, but he hadn’t pushed hard enough to warrant an uppercut, yet.
“Too soon, mate, too soon.”
“I knew you were still playing cards, I guess none of us even suspected how much you were putting on the table. You can understand Mason’s concern, can’t you?”
“What are you, his little messenger boy?” I snarled.
“Consider me your best enemy. I doubt there are even half a dozen things that we agree on. Except as much as I hate to admit it, you are the most honorable and upstanding man I know, and if anyone had ever asked me, I would have told them so.”
“Well, I assume nobody bloody well asked you.” I finished my drink and looked for a new bottle of Scotch. The champagne had lost its appeal. “You’re slowing down on me.”
&
nbsp; “I usually only drink with friends.”
“I don’t know what to say to that, either drink up or get the fuck out of my home.”
To my surprise Darius took two clean flutes, poured the champagne I’d prefer to toss out, and offered a toast, “To the women we love, and to a love that is never boring.”
GG
Despite all the assurances from Darius and Layla to be patient, I knew Scott would never understand. He’d never be able to put his hurt pride aside and realize I didn’t have a choice.
The need for a card game was overpowering. Scott’s silence was destroying me, I needed to destroy someone else.
“Anything on?” I asked Jarryd, glad he was still taking my calls.
“Are you going to turn up this time?”
“Of course, or at least I think so.”
“I’ve switched it to an afternoon game. Starts after lunch.”
“I’ll be there.”
Yet again, I dressed to go to the game, the black bustier that still smelt of honey and waffle, black thigh high boots and heavy makeup. But I stumbled even before leaving my bedroom. Yes, I craved the power of being at the table and in control but playing cards had become a symbol of what I’d lost.
My marriage, not such a loss.
Scott.
I couldn’t think of his name without crying.
No, it was too soon. I didn’t need a game of cards, I needed Scott to open his eyes and get past his bullshit ego.
GG: Sorry.
Jarryd: Your seat will be waiting the day you change your mind.
GG: Thx.
I hugged my poker uniform as the last memories of Scott.
Wishing so hard for him to reach out, I imagined my phone buzzing with his call.
Imagined? Or real?
“We should talk.” His words were slurred, or perhaps it was my imagination. I looked at the handset, yes, it was real.
“When and where?”
“Where are you?”
“At home, but I can meet you wherever you need, whenever you want; just talk to me.”
I loathed sounding needy, but damn it. I needed him. Wanted him. Loved him?
I’d only admit it if he said the words first.
Reckless Gamble: a billionaire high stakes suspense romance (City Sinners Book 4) Page 22
