Page 23 of How to Break My Heart
“You know I have work to do, right? Working foryourcompany and makingyoumoney,” I argue.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, son.”
He hangs up before I have a chance to say anything else. It’s just after six in the morning and this man has already ruined my day.
My employees are smart enough to pick up on my agitation, avoiding me as I stomp around the office. I cancel meetings where possible to avoid conflict, and when the sun begins to set, I still have a mountain of work needing my attention before driving out tomorrow.
I crawl into bed sometime after two in the morning, but despite my body being desperate for sleep, my mind refuses to shut down.
The frustrating thing is—I have no idea why.
After last night’s fuck-fest with Bianca, I should be satisfied. Yet, as I lie here, unable to sleep, my body suddenly betrays me. I reach down and begin to stroke myself, remembering Bianca’s full lips wrapped around my cock. A moan escapes me as my hand moves faster, but then the message from Everleigh flashes like lightning, warning me of an impending storm.
My eyes open wide, the darkness greeting me.
“What the fuck?” I mutter.
I slam my fist against the mattress in frustration, then turn to lie on my stomach without finishing what I attempted to start, and somehow fall asleep.
A yawn escapes me as I slowly open my weary eyes. The sound of multiple sirens outside my building is loud enough to be heard from my penthouse suite. My arms stretch above me before I glance at my phone. It’s just after six, and, if I calculate correctly, I’ve had three hours’ sleep.
There is no point lying here in misery and fighting the inevitable. I jump out of bed, brush my teeth, and put on sweats to head downstairs to the gym.
After a heavy weight-training session, I head back upstairs to shower and pack my bags. I figure I can drive up to Cinnamon Springs for the weekend, drive back to the city early Monday morning for meetings, and then deal with everything else via video chat.Honestly, how hard can all this wedding bullshit be?
It takes me two hours to get out of the city due to roadwork and detours, but once I hit the parkway, it’s smooth sailing.
The long, winding road around the bend of the mountain brings back a lot of memories. It’s a picturesque scene of maple and oak trees, which, I will admit, calms me to an extent. Perhaps it’s reminiscent of my childhood spent climbing trees before the world became a harsh reality.
My Porsche takes each corner with effortless precision, tempting me to put my foot on the gas. The only thing I miss about this place is the open roads, which are the exact opposite of Manhattan’s, with their tedious traffic jams.
I rarely have a weekend off, but I often drive to East Hampton just for the hell of it, relishing the open road and the hum of the engine. It’s a chance to escape, to let the miles blur as I leave the chaos behind, if only for a little while.
Madelina insisted we stay at our family home. I argued, of course, given that the Honey Lodge’s Governor’s Suite is more my style. I see the familiar sign to turn off, and the gravel crunches beneath my tires as Beaumont Manor appears before me.
It’s smaller than I remember, built by my great-grandfather and his brothers in the 1800s. The natural stone walls and large columns only add to its craftsmanship, along with the manicured gardens and fountain at the front of the property.
The front door opens as Madelina comes running outside. I saw my sister a month ago, back before her vacation, when she stopped by the office, but I notice her face appears rather tanned.
She’s already wearing a light blue dress for the lunch. I’m sure the dress is a brand name, but I’m not one to care or pay attention to women’s fashion.
I pull the hand brake up, then turn the engine off before exiting the car. My legs are stiff from the long drive.
Madelina is quick to jump up and wrap her arms around me. “You made it.”
“Yes,” I answer, pulling away. “I was reminded yesterday by the patriarch himself of the importance of my presence.”
“I’m sorry. Dad kind of insisted we have a family lunch. Myles had to reschedule some work in the city, too. Anyways, you’re here, and that’s all that matters.”
I remove my bags from the trunk and follow Madelina inside the house. My mother’s decor has remained the same, and it’s as if the house has been frozen in time. Since my father mainly resides in Manhattan, and my mother spends more time in Europe, this home is taken care of by one housekeeper and a gardener.
“Hilda left some food in the fridge, but aside from that, you’ll need to fend for yourself,” Madelina informs me.
“I’m sure I know how to feed myself,” I deadpan.
“Right, you’re a big boy now,” she teases. “Dad is arriving soon, and lunch is at noon. It’s not overly formal, but make an effort to look nice, okay?”
I drop my bags, crossing my arms over my chest. “Anything else, your highness?”
