Page 84 of Takeover

“Thank you, Hunter.” Ethan turns and stares at Hunter, and they seemingly have a conversation without words. Hunter nods and leaves the office.

“Who is Wally Blatt?” I ask.

“It’s about a new acquisition. A merger, if you will.”

“A merger? You’re merging BradCo with another company?”

“Nothing like that, but I can’t talk about it yet. You’ll be the first to know.” He taps my nose with his finger and kisses my lips one more time.

“Okay,” I say. “I just came by to see if you were here. I guess I missed you.” I wrap my arms around his waist. “Do you want to go out tonight? I’d rather stay in.” I look out the window, and the rain that was threatening to fall when I arrived is falling now.

“I’ll take care of dinner, and we’ll stay in. Whatever you want,” he says. I grab my coat from his chair, and instead of convincing me to stay longer like he always does, he helps me put it on and escorts me to the elevator. His large hand is splayed on my lower back as we walk, and just as we approach the elevator, the doors open and a short man with a protruding gut steps out. His mustache is so thick and wide, it covers his lips. He’s holding two large suitcases, and when he sees me, he drops one suitcase, takes off his hat, and nods.

Ethan practically pushes me into the elevator and presses the close button. He pulls me close, kisses the top of my head while we ride to the first floor, and walks me to my waiting car. Serge opens my door for me, and Ethan helps me inside. As soon as the car pulls away from the curb, he runs back to the building.

The rain is falling hard now, and I’m eager for our evening alone at home. As much as I’m going to miss Vincent, I’m already looking forward to being alone with my man, if only for a couple of nights.

My stomach growls, but there is no sign of any dinner here. I bet he ordered something to be delivered once Lindsay and Vincent leave. As soon as I have that thought, the phone to the house rings, and when I pick it up, I give the doorman permission to send Lindsay up.

Two minutes later, she strides inside, impeccably dressed in tight blue jeans and six inch heels. She looks at me and scoffs, and I can only imagine she finds my black yoga pants, long sleeve tee, and bare feet lacking.

“I’m here for my son,” she says.

“Well, hello to you too, Lindsay. He’ll be right down. Why don’t you take a seat?” I ask.

“Are you serious? You’re playing hostess?” She spins around the place and says, “I lived here with my husband and son. We raised a family here. I don’t need you to ask me to sit down.”

She crosses her arms and looks at me. It’s been a long week at work, not to mention, Vincent has gotten into bed with us at least three times this week. I haven’t eaten since lunch, and it’s never a good idea to come at me when I’m hungry.

“You raised a family here? You, Lindsay? Aren’t you the one who left your husband and infant son because raising a baby was just too much for you in this fancy penthouse? Not even your twenty-four-hour nannies could make you stay. Isn’t that right?” This time, it’s me who crosses my arms.

“Fuck you,” she says, and I can’t help but smile.

“I see I hit a nerve. Careful, Lindsay. Someone might overhear and might think you’re not the dignified lady you pretend to be. But anyway, make yourself at home.”

“You can change all the furniture you want, but this will always be my home.”

“Except it’s not,” I say with a laugh. “I swear,” I say, mostly to myself. “Some women never leave the high school mean girl image behind.”

Deciding I’ve had enough, I leave her and go to the kitchen, desperately in need of a drink. I pour myself a glass of Pinot Grigio, and she comes waltzing into the kitchen.

“Aren’t you going to offer me a glass? You’re so intent on playing house.”

“I’m not.” I take a sip and savor it. I take two more sips and warmth spread through my body.

“Enjoy this while it lasts. Enjoy your time in the penthouse because you’ll be back to the slums in no time.” I put my glass down and look at the bitch’s face.

“Well, if this doesn’t work out, I can always go back to my apartment. The one I own outright, but I guess you wouldn’t understand how that feels. Everything you have is because Ethan loves his son so much. Maybe you’re the one who should enjoy it. You know? While your son is still young.” She inhales at my rebuke. Her hands ball into fists, and whatever color she had on her cheeks disappears. She crosses her arms and looks away, but I’m not done with her yet. “I’ll have my job, not to mention people I love. My family. What about you, Lindsay? Who do you have? Ethan will never take you back. It doesn’t matter if I’m in the picture or not. He’s done with you. But if it’s easier for you to blame me for that, go ahead. You don’t matter to me. In every scenario that involves you and me, I win.”

I finish my wine and pour myself another glass, hoping and praying Ethan and Vincent come downstairs soon.

“Do you drink this much in front of my son?” She never says his name when she talks to me. She always has to remind me that Vincent is her son.

“What are you going to do about it if I do?” Fire practically shoots out of her eyes, but no words come out. “Nothing,” I snicker.

I raise the glass to my lips, but it never reaches. She slaps the glass out of my hand, and the liquid spills on my lap before the glass crashes against the tile floor. Stunned, I look at her smirking face, and all patience I had for this woman vanishes. I jump over the broken glass and land right in front of her. Despite my attempts at avoiding the glass, I know I’ve cut my foot. I lift my foot, and blood oozes out, and when I look at her again, she has the audacity to laugh.

Before I can talk myself out of it, I slap her hard across the face. Stunned, she stumbles back, and I take another step forward. She holds her cheek with one hand, but I grab that hand and twist her wrist so hard, she yelps in pain.

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