Wrecked: A Dark Billionaire Romance (The Billionaires Secret Club Book 1)
Wrecked: A Dark Billionaire Romance: Chapter 22

“I said I wanted those proposals on my desk this morning.” I grabbed the knot of my tie and yanked it loose. The stupid thing felt like it was killing me, and my anger at being stood up by my own employee was making it worse. “It is no longer morning. Do we need a lesson on telling time? No?” The employee stammered, but didn’t offer any real words as an answer. “Then do not make me repeat myself!”

“Sir, Alex was supposed to —”

“Do not give me that. You are a director. You applied for that responsibility. Don’t place the blame for your oversight on someone you supervise.”

I slammed the phone down. The head of marketing was about to get the boot if he didn’t get his act together.

My secretary glanced up. I’d managed to spare her my wrath, only because she would be impossible to replace. And I liked her. But I didn’t want her to know that.

Yes, I was angry. I was perpetually pissed off, and I had been ever since Chrissy had left.

I missed her. I wanted to explain to her in person, how sorry I was. I wanted to make it up to her. But she wouldn’t see me.

I had considered going to her apartment. Her work. Her college. I’d even thought of going to Bella’s room at the hospital, and forcing her to see me.

But all of those visits seemed like a terrible invasion of her privacy. But if I didn’t hear from her soon, I was going to give in and chase her down.

I couldn’t really blame her for avoiding me. If she hadn’t been able to punch Travis, I wasn’t sure how far he would have gone. He was scum who belonged in jail.

Even though I was furious at Travis, and wished I could lock him away, I’d also lost my best friend. The loss was permanent, as there could be no forgiveness on my part. He’d been a big part of my life since we were seven, but that relationship could not be repaired, not after what he’d done. He’d also been a big part of the company. I’d fired him immediately, but I felt the loss at the office as well as in my personal life.

No one showed up in my office to give me a hard time. No one invited me to lunch. I no longer had any co-workers who would call me out.

But that was irrelevant.

Travis had to go. He’d ruined my life, and he’d made a good attempt at ruining Chrissy’s too.

After an unproductive day, I left the office early, only to replace my mother in my house. She stood in my living room, looking at the photos of my dad.

I was well-aware I didn’t have any photos of her on display. I had never felt bad about that. It was a deliberate decision. But after hearing about Chrissy’s reprehensible parents, I felt like maybe I could add a photo of my mother as well.

“You’re back early.” I doubted I sounded pleased. It wasn’t even her fault. I didn’t want to interact with anyone but Chrissy.

“I am.”

My mother was quiet after that, which was rare. Usually she prattled on and on. I looked closer. It was evening, and she was sober. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen her sober in the evening. It had been years.

Something was different with her. I wasn’t going to ask, because I didn’t want her prying into my life either.

“Tell me about your trip,” I said. I didn’t really want to hear about it, but I was lonely. And maybe she was too. Chrissy’s confessions about what life was like with her own mother had a profound effect on me, one that I was still grappling with.

Even though I still resented my mother, I found myself grateful for the things she had provided for me. Chrissy had mentioned never having a snack at school.

Each morning during my elementary years, my mom had packed a bag with a granola bar, and apple and crackers and tied it with a bow. She didn’t ask a staff member to do it — she did it herself. Many of the other mothers had done the same thing, so it never registered for me that it was an expression of her affection for me.

Today, she described the renovations to the villa in the Bahamas and didn’t complain one time. She filled me in on the people she’d met and the activities they’d done. We talked for a while, trading stories about the villa when I was a kid.

Once we’d run out of things we had in common, she put her hand on my back. “What’s wrong, honey? I can tell something’s off.”

Had she ever really paid attention to me like this before? I didn’t think so. Maybe she had tried, but I hadn’t accepted it. It was nice. I hadn’t told anyone else about what happened with Chrissy. Travis had been my only friend, and now that was over.

Had my mother wanted to pay attention to me, but I refused to allow it? I wasn’t sure. And it didn’t matter. She asked, so I would share this pain with her.

“I met someone.”

My mother’s jaw fell open. “You did?”

“Is it so surprising?”

“Of course not. You’re handsome and smart and hard-working. Anyone would be lucky to have you.”

Except the one person I wanted. She hadn’t been very lucky when Travis attacked her in my home. I knew my mother liked to brag about my accomplishments to her friends, but maybe she was proud of me as a person as well. Either way, it was nice to hear good things about myself after such a bad week.

“Come on.” My mom ran her hand over my head like she had when I was a little boy. “Let’s move into the kitchen. I’ll make you some hot chocolate.”

“It’s seventy-five degrees.”

“It’s never too warm for chocolate.” She opened a package of chocolate and handed it to me along with a knife. “Here. You chop that up into tiny pieces.” I remembered what to do. I had been her helper as a kid, but back then she’d given me a butter knife instead of a chef’s knife.

My mom smiled. “Be careful not to ding that knife. I don’t want Diana to get mad at me.”

My mother’s hot chocolate was the one thing she made from scratch. She pulled the milk from the refrigerator and a saucepan from the cabinet. She heated the milk on the stove. “When we were dating, your father used to ask me to make this for him.”

“I didn’t know that,” I said, watching her take the pan off the heat right before it boiled. She took the chopped pieces from me and dumped them in the milk.

“He quit drinking it when we were older. Said it was too much sugar for a drink. But he still liked it.” She stirred, mixing the chocolate in. “He’d add a little Bailey’s Irish Cream to it and say it was dessert.”

“That doesn’t surprise me.” My father had always enjoyed an after dinner treat.

“Now.” She added whipped cream. Then she put the mug in front of me. “Tell me.”

I took a sip. Under the whipped cream, the hot chocolate was rich and creamy.

How many times had my mother tried to connect with me, but I missed it because I was so busy blaming her for not loving my father?

And yet my father had not needed my protection — he loved my mother with his entire being. Maybe I didn’t need to understand or approve of their relationship. Maybe I needed to start over with my mother, with a clean slate.

“Like I said, I met someone. And now she’s left me.”

“Why did she leave you?”

“Travis is the short answer. He attacked her. He tried to force himself on her, and then he lied about it. I would call the police but I don’t want to upset her. He is no longer welcome here or at any Boswell property, including the company.”

My mother sighed. “That poor girl. I hate that for her, and for you. I never trusted that boy. But I know he was a reliable friend to you for all these years.”

“You didn’t like him?”

“He was always jealous of you.”

How had I never noticed? How had my mother, who lived in her own world, known this and I didn’t? She was right though. During the screaming rant when he woke up on the floor of my office, he’d revealed quite a bit more about his true nature.

“He’s a monster.”

“I’m glad you see that. You did the right thing, getting rid of him in every way.” My mother scooted her stool closer to mine. “Were there any other problems besides Travis?”

“No, at least I don’t think so. The situation was a little unusual. Her name is Chrissy. And she’s young, only twenty, but she was raising her little sister. Her father’s been in and out of prison, and her mother’s a drug addict. She works three jobs, and goes to school, and supports her sister.”

I paused. In the past, my mother would have been quick to tell me not to spend too much time around someone like Chrissy. She’d be in favor of me donating money to the less fortunate, as long as I didn’t sully my own reputation by hanging out with poor people.

To my surprise, she simply nodded. “She sounds like a very resourceful girl.”

Whatever had brought my mother back early from her trip must have had a profound effect on her. I’d never seen her so thoughtful, and so non judgemental.

“I love her,” I said.

“Do you want her back?”

“One hundred percent.”

“Then you have to go get her.”

The scent of the warm cocoa was comforting, but I felt pretty hopeless about winning Chrissy back. “I’ve tried.”

“It sounds like you’ve made a few lackluster attempts. Calling her. Leaving messages. Sending her texts. That’s not enough. If you really love her, and you want her back, you have to make grand gestures.”

“You think so? I don’t want to pressure her.”

“Honey, if she feels pressured, she’ll tell you to get lost and call the police. If that hasn’t happened, then you’re good.”

“What should I do?” For the first time in my adult life, I was asking my mother for advice. I liked to think that my father would be pleased.

“I’ll tell you a few things your father did.” She paused to smile as she recalled the memory. “One day he knew I was feeling a little down. Trips always cheered me up, just like they do now. So he arranged a scavenger hunt for me. He had photos printed that each held a clue to the destination where we’d be going. Then he hid them all over the house and the grounds.”

My mother paused and stared into space for a moment. “It started to rain, and I saw him running around outside with little plastic bags, trying to stuff the pictures into the bags so they wouldn’t disintegrate.”

Maybe my mother really had loved my father. Maybe she’d seemed cold and callous because she was dealing with her own issues, and I’d seen her behavior as black and white because I was a child.

“I’ll tell you this. If you love her, you keep trying. You make every grand gesture there is.”

My mother was right. At this point, I had nothing to lose.

Whatever it took, I was going to try and win Chrissy back.