Page 18 of Counterfeit Connection

Griffin

Monday. Tuesday. Wednesday.

These have been three of the longest days of my life, and that’s saying something. Meetings from just after dawn to dusk then food, shower, and collapse into bed alone.

Rinse. Repeat.

I was not built for this. I need to have some variety. Some sort of outlet. I feel like I’m working hard for not much. This deal could be closed, well, with my eyes closed. Every loophole has been filled in. Every “t” has been crossed and “i” dotted. I’ve missed nothing and Tobias is the one coming with the charm. I’m not in the arse kissing business, certainly not this week in particular.

Every easy breath is tempered with my brain repeating my father’s words. All they want to make me do is the exact opposite, just to prove I can. Is that an infantile way of thinking? Absolutely. Do I fucking care? Absolutely fucking not.

“All right,” Tobias says as he lets himself into my hotel room. “I’ve had about enough of this brooding asshole thing you’ve got happening the last few days.”

“How in the hell do you have a key to my room?” I ask him from the chair by the window.

“Someone has to be a fail-safe in case of emergency.” He holds his arms out to display himself. “I took that title myself.” He sits on the edge of my bed. “Now, tell me what your malfunction is, because I know it’s not work. That would be too obvious.”

I open my mouth to speak, but the universe decides to play another little joke on me, and my phone lights up and vibrates across the table.

My father is calling.

“That,” I point to my phone, “should tell you all you need to know.” I snatch it from the table because I know he’ll just keep calling unless I answer. “Father. To what do I owe the pleasure? Isn’t it the middle of the night for you?”

“You hadn’t rung about the contract yet. Should I take it to mean it’s still not signed?”

“No. It’s sitting with legal, had you bothered to take it to them instead of me.”

“I thought this little journey would have assisted in your manners.”

I rub my fingers across my forehead. “Father, this is too much without alcohol. Tobias and I were just leaving for dinner. Can we resume this delightful conversation at another time?”

“Get it done and we won’t have to. Good night, Griffin.” The call disconnects on his end first. I can’t hit my off button fast enough before chucking my phone to the pillow pile at the head of my bed. “Prick,” I mutter.

“Jesus, you let him push your buttons.”

“How can I not? He’s an expert in that particular field.”

“Ignore him for the time being. What’s under your skin, besides him?”

I scrub my hand over my face and sigh in frustration. “Do you remember the waitress from the Italian place?”

“The cute blonde? How could I forget?”

“That’s where I was on Sunday afternoon. I went back to apologize for the way I acted on Saturday.”

“You went back and spent the day with her? Jesus, mate, how do you do it? You don’t even know her; you threw on the charm and she invited you into her bed?”

“What? No.” I push to stand up and begin pacing the room. “It wasn’t like that. I went to apologize. We had a meal and a conversation. It was nice.”

“Nice?” Tobias’s face contorts with repulsion to the use of that word. “Okay, we’ll get back to that word in a minute. I’m not following though. Explain to me, in any language you choose, then, how that is making you be a moody arsehole?”

“Do you want the truth?”

“For fuck’s sake. Spit it out.”

“I gave her my business card and an open invitation to connect again. She hasn’t.”

I don’t know how I expected him to react, but laughing certainly wasn’t it.

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