somehow already grown accustomed to sleeping next to her, and the bed felt empty without her. When I woke up the next morning, I promised myself that after that evening’s bake-off was done, she was all mine.
While I ate a cinnamon roll, I checked the daily sales report then fastened Cindy Lou into her harness for a walk in the cold winter morning air. A man who looked my age but had a beer belly and sun-damaged skin jumped in front of me when I walked out of my building.
“Stay away from my wife,” he said menacingly.
Trevor. I stared at the man who Sarah had left me for.
“You think you’re going to steal her away from me with your billions and your lies?” he blustered. “Sarah told me how you treated her, how you thought she was just an object.”
“What the fuck?” I demanded. “None of that is true.”
“You calling my wife a liar?” he demanded.
“Maybe,” I said. I was several inches taller than him and drew up to my full height.
Trevor shook his head. “She said you were self-absorbed and obsessed with money and that you ignored her and threatened her.”
“I never.”
“I don’t believe you,” he replied, nostrils flared. “You better stay the hell away from Sarah if you know what’s good for you. I’m going to make sure that everyone knows what a piece of shit you are.”
If everyone believed I was some sort of monster, not only would the distillery—and, subsequently, all my employees and suppliers—suffer, but I could bend over and kiss the Hamilton Yards development good-bye. I would not let Trevor ruin my reputation.
“You think you can try and slander me?” I said, hearing the cold fury in my voice. “I will destroy you.”
Trevor glared at me. “This is war,” he said before stomping off.
Shit. I clearly didn’t know Sarah at all. Maybe it was just like with Belle. I had been blindsided when she had disappeared. I had no idea what had happened to make her leave. Of course, when Owen had laid it all out to me and my brothers, it made sense. It also blanketed me with a thick layer of guilt that I hadn’t been a good brother and that it had in fact been my fault that she had left. Just like it was my fault my parents didn’t like me as much as my brothers and why, apparently, it was also likely my fault that Sarah had up and left. I was the common denominator.
“Stop feeling sorry for yourself,” I snarled at my reflection in the lobby window. “Man up.” I needed to put my business first. This was about my reputation. I was going to come out on top. I would secure Hamilton Yards, my parents would be proud, I’d be able to offer Belle the world as an apology, and I would somehow convince Greg not to completely corporatize the development.
“You’re a billionaire,” I told myself, straightening my suit. “Act like it. Get the job done and end Trevor before he even has a chance to slander you.”
To do that, however, I needed the Svenssons.
“Go talk to them as equals. You’re a development partner,” I pep talked myself as I ate another of Morticia’s cinnamon rolls, which I had brought along for fortification. “You are ice; you are powerful.”
Cindy Lou batted at my shoe.
“I know, Cindy Lou. I told you I was going to take you on a walk, but I have a big, important surprise meeting to keep us from having to move to a nonpenthouse unit.”
Cindy Lou looked up at me and yowled reproachfully. I edged to the door. The cat howled like a banshee. I sighed.
“Fine,” I told the cat, “you win. But this is not a reflection on my manhood. I am still a powerful billionaire.”
“Why the fuck are you in my office?” Greg asked in a clipped tone.
Cindy Lou chuffed reproachfully. Greg’s head snapped up. He looked between me, the cat, and Carl.
Carl launched into a deflection. “I told him not to bring the cat,” he said. “I told him you don’t like animals.”
“I had to bring her. I promised her I’d take her on a walk.”
“You fucking walk your cat?”
I clapped my hands over Cindy Lou’s ears. “Cindy Lou Who is a high-society lady, and she would appreciate it if you watched your language around her.”
Greg was silent for a moment. “Get out of my office,” he commanded, turning back to his paperwork.
“Look,” I protested, “I need—”
“Carl,” Greg barked.
“I need help!”