3/3
Chapter 34
Chapter 34
FAILURE
-RICHARD’S POV
Morning couldn’t come fast enough.
+25 BONUS
After the circus last night…. Monica screaming at me in front of half the city, my mother slapping me like I was still a damn teenager, and Claire looking at me like I was beneath her…I thought sleep would at least reset me.
But nope.
I woke up feeling like death warmed over, with Monica perched on the edge of the bed like some vulture waiting for the carcass to twitch.
“Morning, hunie,” I muttered, rubbing the grit out of my eyes. Maybe if I kept my tone soft, she’d ease up.
Her laugh was sharp, humorless. “Hunie? Really? You think sweet names erase the shit you pulled last night? You’re delusional.”
I sighed, already exhausted. “Monica, I said I’m sorry. I messed up, okay? Can we just…..”
“Don’t you dare touch me!” she snapped as I reached for her arm. She shoved me off like I was some kind of insect. “You’re lucky I’m even here.”
I held up my hands. “Alright, alright. I get it. Just–give me a chance to explain….”
But she turned away, her silence saying more than her words ever could. She wanted me to grovel.
I hated groveling.
Fine. Two can play stubborn.
I reached for my phone, dialing the one person who usually had the sense to smooth things over for me. My
mother.
She answered after two rings. “Richard.” The way she said my name already dripped with annoyance.
“Can we talk?” I asked, trying to sound casual.
“No.”
I blinked. “No?”
“You made your bed. Lie in it.”
My jaw tightened. “Mother, come on. You’re really going to be that dramatic?”
“Dramatic? You humiliated your wife in public, drooled after your ex wife for Godsake, and nearly dragged our name through the mud. Dramatic is you.”
And then…click. She hung up.
1/4
Chapter 34
+25 BONUS
I stared at the screen. “Overly dramatic,” I muttered, tossing the phone onto the bed. “Why do women take everything to heart? Friggin‘ simpletons.”
I dragged myself out of bed, showered, and dressed. If I didn’t get coffee soon, I was going to lose my mind completely.
The café next to my office was under renovation, but it still smelled like heaven. Fresh espresso, roasted beans, pastries in the oven. I pushed through the mess and made my way to the counter.
“Large black coffee,” I ordered.
The poor employees looked like chickens with their heads cut off–rushing, spilling, panicking. It was painful to watch.
“Can you hurry it up? Some of us have real jobs!” I barked.
One of them flinched so hard, the cup in his hand wobbled. My eyes widened. “Don’t you dare….”
Too late.
The scalding liquid splashed across my shirt, soaking straight through to my skin.
“WHAT THE HELL?!” I roared, jerking back as the employee gasped.
“I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean…”
“Sorry?!” I snapped. “You think I came here to play shower games with boiling coffee? Do you even know how to pour a drink?!”
“R–Richard?”
That voice. Smooth. Confident. Feminine.
I froze.
Turning, I saw her.
Claire.
She stood near the entrance, sunlight haloing around her like some cruel joke. A knee–length sky–blue dress hugged her figure, floral patterns dancing over the fabric. Her hair was immaculate, her expression calm, her lips curved in the faintest of amused smiles.
And there I was–drenched in coffee, looking like a clown.
“Good morning, Mr. Blackwood,” she said, her voice silk wrapped around steel. “Coffee suits you. Perhaps next time, try keeping it in the cup.”
The café employees snickered under their breath. My face burned hotter than the coffee.
“Uh–Claire, wait! I need to talk to you….”
2/4
Chapter 34
But she was already gone, her heels clicking elegantly against the tiles as she slipped out the door.
Just like that.
+25 BONUS
I clenched my fists. “GREAT! Just great!” I yelled at the trembling employee. “Not only did you ruin my shirt, you ruined my chance to fix things with her!”
“I–I’ll get you another drink!” he squeaked.
“I wanted the first one!” I snarled, snatching the replacement cup from his hand once it was ready.
By the time I stomped back to the house, the humiliation still burned in my chest. I needed to reset. Fix this with Monica. Maybe then I could circle back to Claire.
“Monica!” I called as I pushed through the front door.
“In here,” came her voice.
I found her in the living room, perched elegantly on the couch, scrolling through her phone. She looked up, her eyes sweeping over my disheveled state. Her lips curved into a wicked grin.
“Well,” she drawled, “looks like you bathed in muddy coffee. Is this your new way of amusing me? Because it’s working.”
I rolled my eyes. “Don’t ask. It’s been a morning.”
“Oh, I can see that,” she said, barely containing her laughter. “You look like someone threw you out of a dumpster.”
I exhaled through my nose, fighting the urge to snap. “Can we talk seriously for a minute? Please?”
Her grin faded, her expression sharpening. “Fine. Talk.”
“This tension between us…it’s pointless. I know last night was rough, but……”
“Rough?” she cut in. “Rough is childbirth. Rough is surviving scandal. What you did last night was humiliation.”
“I was being friendly!” I argued.
She scoffed. “Friendly? You ogled Claire like she was dessert and I was the waiter clearing the plates.”
“Monica, come on, you’re blowing this out of proportion. People talk, sure, but they’ll forget. What matters is us.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Us? There hasn’t been an ‘us‘ in a long time, Richard. And you know why? Because you keep choosing every woman in the room over me.”
I rubbed my temples. “I’d like for you to apologize…..‘ Her laugh sliced through me. Loud. Cruel.
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