Collision: The CEO'S Unexpected Reunion

Chapter Two

Rafael

I climb into the backseat of the car beside Cole, studying him from the corner of my eye.

"Shall we?"

He doesn't answer. He simply starts the engine, shifts into gear, and pulls away from the cobblestone driveway without a word.

The silence won't last. It never does with Cole. He's been throwing curious glances my way all afternoon, trying to figure out what's going on inside my head. I don't blame him. My life has never been simple, and getting me to talk about what I'm feeling usually requires him to drag the words out of me one by one.

Not today, though. Whatever is happening, whatever I just learned, I need to keep it to myself a little while longer. I need time to process it before I let anyone else in. Especially Cole.

The burning ache in my chest returns as my mind replays the conversation I had with my family doctor. My stepfather is dying. The words still don't feel real. Edmund is the only family I have left after Mom and Trisha, my little sister, died in a car crash. Losing them shattered something in me that I never really managed to put back together.

Edmund and I have never had the easiest relationship, but we've found a rhythm over the years. We get along. He makes sure I show up for dinner at his penthouse in Hoboken every Sunday, and twice a month we play golf together. He calls it bonding. I know better. It's his way of keeping tabs on me, making sure I'm still here, making sure I don't disappear to Australia or some random corner of the world like I did after losing Mom and Trisha.

After their funeral, staying felt impossible. Every street, every room, every familiar place carried pieces of them. Memories were everywhere, and I was drowning in them. There was too much pain and not enough reason to keep standing in the middle of it. So I left.

I run a hand through my dark curls, needing something to do with my restless energy. I need a haircut.

"You're going to tell me what happened in there, right?"

Cole's voice pulls me back just as he turns onto the main road. His eyes stay focused ahead, but I know him well enough to know he's watching me from his peripheral vision.

I let out a shaky breath. "If you wanted to know what it was about, you shouldn't have wandered off to the kitchen to flirt with the chef."

"Sandra."

I glance at him. "Don't care about her name, Cole."

"She's been with Ed for six years. Right—"

"Right after Mom and Trisha died." The words come out sharper than I intended. I glance at him. "I know that. I know everything about her. I just don't care."

The corner of Cole's mouth lifts slightly before his expression turns serious again.

"You're agitated."

I wait for him to continue. He doesn't. Of course he doesn't. This is his favorite game. He throws out one sentence, lets it hang between us, and waits for me to fill in the blanks. He knows I hate silence. He knows eventually I'll crack and give him whatever answer he's looking for. This has happened more times than I can count, and somehow I always fall for it.

I roll my eyes and lean back against the seat. Not today. This isn't about a business deal I'm trying to close or some fling who refuses to move on from me.

This is about Ed. Ed is dying, and for the first time in my life, there is nothing I can do to fix the problem.

"Are you hungry?" Cole asks as we get closer to the restaurant.

I shake my head. "I'm fine. I just want to get back to the office and see what the guys have done so far."

"You need a break."

I look at him.

"It's Friday. We can go somewhere, relax, and just talk. Whatever's going through your head, you don't have to carry it alone."

I narrow my eyes. "You're not a therapist. Cut the crap."

"I'm your best friend."

"Oh yeah. Right." My voice is dripping with sarcasm.

He ignores me. "And I know when something is eating you alive."

I give him a pointed look. "I'm fine."

He says nothing, just turns into the restaurant's driveway. "I'm starving."

I frown at him. "What the hell were you doing in the kitchen with Sarah? She didn't feed you?"

He flips me off. "Oh, she did, just not with food."

I shake my head as he parks between a black pickup truck and a Toyota. Once the engine shuts off, he turns to face me. "And her name is Sandra."

I reach over, grab his wallet from the console, and push open the door.

"Hey," he calls after me. "Give me my wallet."

I ignore him. The hot afternoon sun hits my face as I walk toward the entrance, Cole's voice fading behind me.

I'm not hungry. Not even close. But I'm getting the most expensive glass of wine they have and putting it on his tab. Sandra, my foot.

**

My patience is wearing thin with every document I skim through. I glance at the laptop again, cross-checking the month's income figures for what feels like the hundredth time, and it's still short of what I expected.

On paper, we're doing well, hitting new goals, breaking into the market, climbing the charts. But that's far from what I'm seeing. If we ended last month at ninety percent, we should be pushing closer to a hundred this month, not sitting at ninety-three. The margin is small, and nowhere near good enough.

My phone beeps with a text. I ignore it. Then it beeps again. With a sigh, my brows pulling together in irritation I slide the phone across the desk to Nathan. He shifts his laptop aside and focuses his attention on the screen.

When he looks up at me, his eyes are wide, and he's clearly trying to avoid mine. I nod at him to go ahead.

He scratches the back of his neck. "It's, um… it's a photo."

I stare at him. "I'm sure you can do better than that."

He gulps and slowly stretches the phone toward me so I can see the screen. The name Vivienne is the first thing I notice before my eyes move lower.

It's a photo of Vienne in a bikini that barely covers her curves. The kind of picture that's clearly meant to get a reaction out of me.

My expression doesn't change. I simply wave it off. "Delete it and block the number."

Nathan nods, and his fingers immediately get to work, but I can see the flush on his face and the small bead of sweat forming on his forehead.

I almost laugh. He should be used to seeing my ex-fiancée's nude pictures by now, but I guess some things never stop making people uncomfortable.

As for Vivienne, I don't have the time or energy for her right now. Ed is sick, and he's my priority. Everything else comes after that. Especially her.