“Five Coronas, please.”
“Sure thing, Mr. Emerson.” She flashed a winning smile before sauntering away with a swing of her slim hips.
Two missed calls and a text from Mia. What was so urgent? There were no critical meetings on the calendar. A.J. was with him so nothing should be up on the legal front.
There was another person whose calls he’d been avoiding. Evan had left no less than ten messages since that night at Wellington’s. Jesus, would he ever be able to face the past? How the hell was he supposed to help kids in the program deal with their issues if he couldn’t figure out how to resolve his own? But admitting he needed help? Fuck, no. He’d never let himself be that vulnerable. Ever again.
He was not okay, no matter how hard he tried to convince himself otherwise. The nightmares were a very clear indication of his fractured mental and emotional state. It was said that one’s mind could never recreate the exact feeling of pain, but the vividness of those memories, of being burned and beaten… He remembered it all too well. He didn’t need to resurrect any of that shit. Not acknowledging the past made it less real. It was his best shot at an escape.
The bartender placed five ice-cold bottles on the bar. Paul nodded at Chris. “Think you can handle a short walk to the bar?”
“I think I’ve recovered.” Chris took four of the Coronas with a flourish. “Much appreciated, Emerson.”
“Guys, I’ll be back in a second. I have to make a call. Mia’s been trying to get in touch, and I want to make sure everything’s okay at the office.” He dialed her number as he walked toward the back of the café.
“What took you so long to call me back?”
“Your fiancé needed to be carried off the course, so I couldn’t get to the phone.”
“Oh my God, don’t tell me—”
“Relax, I’m kidding. He’s fine, just a little winded from the walking.” Paul took a quick swig from the bottle. “What the hell is so urgent?”
“Alison said someone named Rochelle Harrison called three times this afternoon. Wouldn’t say what she wanted. Tried to find out where you were, but the third time, Alison transferred her to me. It was really weird. She said something about a monster, and how she needed to find you before it did. Who the hell is she, and what does she want with you?”
“We did some work together a while back.” That was the understatement of the century. Fucking sociopath. Why wasn’t she in London?
“That’s all? Work? ”
“What do you want me to say? Yeah, there was more to it than that, but I haven’t seen or heard from her in a long time. Last I heard, she moved out of the country.”
“Something’s up. Why would she be so desperate to get in touch with you?”
Because she was a fucking lunatic who couldn’t be trusted under any circumstances. “I have no idea.”
“Fine, be evasive. Just be aware she’s back and on a quest to find you.”
“Thanks. I’ll keep an eye out.”
“You’d better. It sounds like Fatal Attraction .”
“You’re too young to know that reference.”
“I have an older brother, and all guys know about that movie. You’d better watch your back.”
Fatal Attraction was an apt reference . Rochelle was unpredictable and dangerous, not a combination he wanted in his life. A short-lived fling had taught him a valuable lesson. Don’t shit where you eat.
“I’ve got to get back. Thanks for the heads-up.”
“Please make sure Chris gets home in one piece.”
“Done.” He walked back to the table, his head spinning. Rochelle Harrison. God help him. What the hell did she want? And why was she back in California when the terms of her so-called work arrangement clearly stated she was to remain in London?
“Hey, Paul, you know Avery Hunter, right? CEO of CrowdRok?” A wicked grin confirmed Chris knew the exact answer to his own question.
The beauty gracing their table obliterated all thoughts of Rochelle. Long, blonde hair
“Sure thing, Mr. Emerson.” She flashed a winning smile before sauntering away with a swing of her slim hips.
Two missed calls and a text from Mia. What was so urgent? There were no critical meetings on the calendar. A.J. was with him so nothing should be up on the legal front.
There was another person whose calls he’d been avoiding. Evan had left no less than ten messages since that night at Wellington’s. Jesus, would he ever be able to face the past? How the hell was he supposed to help kids in the program deal with their issues if he couldn’t figure out how to resolve his own? But admitting he needed help? Fuck, no. He’d never let himself be that vulnerable. Ever again.
He was not okay, no matter how hard he tried to convince himself otherwise. The nightmares were a very clear indication of his fractured mental and emotional state. It was said that one’s mind could never recreate the exact feeling of pain, but the vividness of those memories, of being burned and beaten… He remembered it all too well. He didn’t need to resurrect any of that shit. Not acknowledging the past made it less real. It was his best shot at an escape.
The bartender placed five ice-cold bottles on the bar. Paul nodded at Chris. “Think you can handle a short walk to the bar?”
“I think I’ve recovered.” Chris took four of the Coronas with a flourish. “Much appreciated, Emerson.”
“Guys, I’ll be back in a second. I have to make a call. Mia’s been trying to get in touch, and I want to make sure everything’s okay at the office.” He dialed her number as he walked toward the back of the café.
“What took you so long to call me back?”
“Your fiancé needed to be carried off the course, so I couldn’t get to the phone.”
“Oh my God, don’t tell me—”
“Relax, I’m kidding. He’s fine, just a little winded from the walking.” Paul took a quick swig from the bottle. “What the hell is so urgent?”
“Alison said someone named Rochelle Harrison called three times this afternoon. Wouldn’t say what she wanted. Tried to find out where you were, but the third time, Alison transferred her to me. It was really weird. She said something about a monster, and how she needed to find you before it did. Who the hell is she, and what does she want with you?”
“We did some work together a while back.” That was the understatement of the century. Fucking sociopath. Why wasn’t she in London?
“That’s all? Work? ”
“What do you want me to say? Yeah, there was more to it than that, but I haven’t seen or heard from her in a long time. Last I heard, she moved out of the country.”
“Something’s up. Why would she be so desperate to get in touch with you?”
Because she was a fucking lunatic who couldn’t be trusted under any circumstances. “I have no idea.”
“Fine, be evasive. Just be aware she’s back and on a quest to find you.”
“Thanks. I’ll keep an eye out.”
“You’d better. It sounds like Fatal Attraction .”
“You’re too young to know that reference.”
“I have an older brother, and all guys know about that movie. You’d better watch your back.”
Fatal Attraction was an apt reference . Rochelle was unpredictable and dangerous, not a combination he wanted in his life. A short-lived fling had taught him a valuable lesson. Don’t shit where you eat.
“I’ve got to get back. Thanks for the heads-up.”
“Please make sure Chris gets home in one piece.”
“Done.” He walked back to the table, his head spinning. Rochelle Harrison. God help him. What the hell did she want? And why was she back in California when the terms of her so-called work arrangement clearly stated she was to remain in London?
“Hey, Paul, you know Avery Hunter, right? CEO of CrowdRok?” A wicked grin confirmed Chris knew the exact answer to his own question.
The beauty gracing their table obliterated all thoughts of Rochelle. Long, blonde hair
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