Page 25 of Tormented Bastard
It was my turn to look out into the storm beyond the windows. Water ran in sideways rivers along the glass, caused by the lashing rain and winds.
“When is the event?” I asked.
“Two weeks from today.”
My brows lifted. “Two weeks?”
She nodded, a sheepish look crossing her face.
Well, shit. I wouldn’t be ready for that. Not only would I have to write some motivating speech to get high rollers to spend their money, but I’d have to be ready to face what I knew would be a shit show of paparazzi when they heard I was back in Manhattan.
There was no way I was ready for all that. I didn’t want to be ready for all that.
She stared at me for a few moments, waiting for me to have some sort of reaction. “What are the details?”
“Well, it’s being sponsored by Graham Morgan, Hollis LaCroix, and Dexter Truitt. Know any of them?”
I nodded as I sipped my coffee. “Know all of them actually.”
She raised a brow. “Get along with them?”
I grinned. “Yeah, I do.”
“Oh, good!” She smiled. “They’ll probably be happy to have you there.”
I held up a hand. “Slow down, Mitchell. I didn’t agree to this.”
“I know, I know. I’m just saying I’m sure they’d be happy about it.”
I frowned. “What else?”
“It’s two weeks from today, I already told you that. You’d need to give some sort of inspirational speech.” She told me the speaking fee, which was generous but meant little to me. I’d only turn around and donate it.
“What’s the charity for?”
“To raise money for a new pediatric cancer wing at a local hospital in NYC.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose. It was one of the few causes that I could really get behind. Truth be told, I loved kids and wanted my own someday. Or at least I had.
Everything had changed four years ago. Actually, more like seven years ago.
God, this sucked.
I sighed. “So what happens if you don’t find a speaker?”
She slid off the stool and gathered our plates and cups. Without another word, she began cleaning the kitchen, avoiding my stare.
There was more to the story, something she wasn’t telling me. Given our history, it couldn’t have been easy for her to find me and ask me for anything. And yet she had.
“What are you not saying, Eden?”
She glanced up at me for a moment before focusing back on scrubbing the bacon pan. “What do you mean?”
“What happens if you don’t find a speaker?”
Her shoulders slumped, and shadows crossed her eyes. “I lose everything.”
