The Vessel - Jenika Snow Page 0,18
father had been. And the fact my mother, whoever she was, had been simply an incubator for me then handed me off to my father without a backward glance, maybe I should have been more heartless. Isn’t that what lack of love did to a person?
I ran a hand over my face. The sound of my phone ringing had me turning around and reaching for it. “Everything okay, Christina?”
“Mr. Blacksmith, would you like me to call your car to meet you out front? I know you said you were ready to end the day,” my secretary said through the line. She was right outside my office door at her desk, but I told her when I’d come in today that I didn’t want to be disturbed unless it was important.
I glanced at the clock on the wall across from me. It was already six in the evening, an hour after I normally leave, but I’d been sitting here with my dick in my hand—figuratively—contemplating… hell, everything.
I had several hours left of work to do, but I was beat, and my mind wasn’t focused on the task at hand, so it was best I just left now and came back tomorrow morning with a fresh pallet.
“Yes. Thank you, Christina.” I hung up the phone and closed my eyes again, resting my head back on the leather. The heaviness of my situation was like this pressure surrounding me, sucking the air from my lungs, draining my veins so I was dried up on the inside. It was uncomfortable, the sadness and hollowness something I’d never experienced before, not even with my father.
I opened my eyes and pushed myself out of the chair, walking over to grab my jacket, which hung on the hook by the door. I bent down to pick up my briefcase that was sitting on the floor right under that. I opened my office door, the glass being pulled forward silently, the shades drawn so nobody would’ve been able to see me in my office regardless.
“Thank you for staying late, Christina.” She deserved another hefty bonus for all the late nights she stayed, even though I insisted she go home to her family. I knew she stayed so I didn’t have to be alone. She was considerate like that.
She gave me a small smile. “Of course, Mr. Blacksmith. I’ll be in first thing in the morning.”
“You don’t have to. In fact, if you need a day off, on me, please take it. You work too damn hard.”
She was shaking her head before I finished speaking. “No problem, Mr. Blacksmith. I have plenty of work to do, so coming in early and staying late benefits me.”
I gave her a grateful nod. “Thanks again.” I left the building, taking the elevators down to the main floor and exiting the front doors of the Franklin Capital Building.
The dark Jaguar sat idling at the curb, traffic moving at a snail’s pace in both directions due to rush-hour traffic. The sound of cars honking, the smell of exhaust, and the chatter of the overpopulated city surrounded me. My driver, Charles, stood by the back passenger door, holding it open for me.
“Good evening, sir.”
“Evening, Charles. Thank you,” I said as I ducked inside, sitting my briefcase on the seat beside me and resting my head on the seat once more. He shut the door, and although it didn’t drown out all the noise of the city around me, it helped to dial it down. I was in a foul mood and honestly just wanted to be left alone tonight. I’d just send all the staff home for the rest of the evening and then call it an early night. Even some alcohol to wash away the day and the reality of my situation wasn’t appealing. I was just too damn tired.
The drive back to the estate took longer than usual because of the traffic, but I welcomed it. It gave me this time to just be by myself, knowing I would go home to a houseful of people. And it wasn’t my staff’s fault, but being alone was how I always processed things, how I dealt with my emotions.
Because my father had never been there for me.
An hour later, the car was slowing, and I opened my eyes, shifting on the seat and looking out the window.
Home sweet home.
Once the car stopped by the front doors, I didn’t wait for Charles to open my door before I was climbing out. I gave Charles a nod