Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 67966 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 340(@200wpm)___ 272(@250wpm)___ 227(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67966 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 340(@200wpm)___ 272(@250wpm)___ 227(@300wpm)
“What the hell is going on, Mr. Blackwell?” Galan demanded.
Thorn smiled as if he was amused and not surprised.
“You were supposed to be the one to decide whether you wanted to come to Belladonna, Galan. But it seems Casey did the choosing for you.”
Pier Fortune Bar and Restaurant
1400 Atlantic Avenue,
Virginia Beach Oceanfront
10:30 p.m.
Two weeks later…
Lucas sat at the bar on the exact same stool he’d sat on last week, finishing his third Hendrick’s and lemon tonic, hoping he didn’t look as pathetic as he felt.
Of course, he’d come back to Pier Fortune, hoping he’d run into the dark, sad man he’d foolishly played a hero for.
He’d told himself it was a sheer coincidence he was there. He’d come back to this bar because the gin was decent and the view wasn’t half bad—but he hadn’t stopped scanning the shadows for Thorn.
Every time the door opened, a ridiculous, desperate hope swelled in his chest…only to collapse when it wasn’t him.
He didn’t know why he’d chosen to get involved in Thorn Blackwell’s drama, but there had been something about the way he’d sat in that booth. Trapped, anxious… mortified.
Lucas was able to relate because it was how he felt on a daily basis.
His loneliness never left him. It clung to his skin like wet clothes.
He buried it under Armani suits, expensive liquor, and successful business deals—but at night, his misery choked him.
He signaled to the bartender that he was ready for his check. It was almost time for them to close, so it was safe to assume Thorn wasn’t a Friday night regular. Hell, for all he knew, Thorn could’ve made up with that guy and they were together right now while he sat there alone like a chump.
He’d given Thorn his contact information, and he hadn’t used it. That should’ve given him a clue.
Lucas was almost to his car when he thought of heading toward the boardwalk for a stroll. He’d always loved the beach. There was something about the water and the waves crashing on the shore that gave him peace.
The glow from the moon made black crystals dance across the calm ocean. It should’ve been beautiful and romantic—couples were walking hand-in-hand and gazing into each other’s eyes.
Even the moon seemed smug, shining down on the couples who had what he’d be chasing and losing the rest of his life.
Instead of rubbing salt in his wounds, Lucas abandoned the idea of walking and got in his car to take the interstate back to his office.
He was sure he was over the legal alcohol limit, but not close to being drunk.
It took a lot more than a few gin and tonics to accomplish that these days.
Forty-Second Floor of the Bank of Tidewater
Lucas’s Office
Downtown Norfolk, Virginia
12:30 a.m.
Lucas didn’t bother turning on the lights when he walked into his executive office suite and went straight to the wet bar.
His shoes clicked too loudly against the hardwood, echoing the silence. A silence that was deafening, the same silence he’d endured every night since Adam left.
There was enough light filtering in from the harbor for him to see which liquor he wanted to use to ease the pain tonight.
He chose to stick with gin, pouring a couple of shots into a highball crystal glass.
He leaned against the tall windows and stared across the water at downtown Norfolk.
The skyline glared back at him. He was in the highest tower in the city, the king of glass and steel…the loneliest ruler alive.
He sat at his desk and researched some specs on a new merger for about an hour before his eyelids began to get heavy. He wasn’t registering most of what he was reading on his computer screen, but at least it was helping to put him to sleep. He figured that after two more shots, he would be numb enough to get a few hours of sleep on his couch.
He tipped the glass back and swallowed, relishing the burn. For one brief second, the fire in his throat was easier to endure than the one in his chest.
Served him right. He needed to stop thinking he’d find someone who would love him even if he filed for bankruptcy tomorrow. Maybe he should just accept his relationships for what they were and keep his emotions out of it.
No one was interested in marrying a workaholic except for one reason—money.
Like a fucking pathetic glutton, he opened the photo gallery of him and his ex-husband on their two-year anniversary cruise in the Bahamas.
In every photo he flipped through, he noticed his eyes were always cast downward in Adam’s direction, gazing on him with love, but there wasn’t a single picture where he was the center of his husband’s world.
Was he already done with me after two years?
How could love vanish so fast? How could someone mean forever one night, then nothing the next?