10. Declan

10

DECLAN

“Goodnight, Declan.”

“Goodnight, Jack.”

Jack Tennon was the head of security for the building. He’d worked for Wolfe Enterprises for twelve years. He was the first person I’d been involved in hiring on my first official day after graduating college. He started as a night guard and worked his way up.

Wolfe Enterprises’ employee retention rate was above the national average by a significant margin. Most of our employees stayed until retirement. Not only on the corporate level but also in the production at our tequila distilleries and warehouses, at our hotels and resorts, at management, service, and entry-level positions, and also in our retail, warehouse, and garment factories.

My grandfather had his flaws as a man, but in business, he created a work environment built on respect from the top down. A big part of that was the trip he took every year, which I was about to leave for in two days. I didn’t feel great about leaving the company vulnerable to my brother. He was going to be released from the hospital tomorrow and had charges pending for reckless endangerment and his second DUI.

I’d decided today that I was going to speak to my grandmother about buying both Derek and Raquel out of the company. I’d already cut off their company credit cards and access to any company assets. I wasn’t sure how she would feel about my plans for Derek; he was family, he was blood, and if history was anything to go by, that seemed to cover all manner of sin. Considering she’d already demoted his wife and put someone in her position with zero experience, I doubted she’d lose too much sleep over Raquel. But no matter what her feelings were, I didn’t feel I had a choice at this point. I didn’t want either of them to do anything that would jeopardize everything my grandfather had worked his entire life to build.

The stunt Derek pulled right before the board meeting was the final straw. I’d managed to handle the situation without the trustees being any the wiser. My grandmother began the meeting while I spoke to the police officers. Then, I was able to join and wrap it up. When we concluded, my grandmother and I went to the hospital. It was clear Raquel was on something as well. They both needed help, which I was going to try and get them, but I knew from witnessing both my grandfather and grandmother try and persuade my father to go to rehab that if a person didn’t want help, you couldn’t force them to get better.

My SUV was waiting for me in front of the building, and Lester was leaning beside it.

“The Capital?” Lester asked as he opened the back door.

“No, home.”

I was supposed to have a dinner meeting at The Capital Grille tonight, but it had been canceled, which I could not be happier about. It was with several of the Alfaro Brothers, who were the original investors of Wolfe Tequila. They were college friends of my grandfather and loved to tell stories. The annual dinner usually lasted four to five hours, but tonight’s might have been six since it was the first time I was seeing them after his death. They had to leave town early due to a family emergency, so they messaged thirty minutes ago saying they wouldn’t be able to make it.

I thought about taking advantage of the reservation and texting Serena to meet me there but decided that it would be better to have our talk in the privacy of our home.

When I settled into the backseat, I called my grandmother’s cell phone. She didn’t answer, so I called the landline.

“Wolfe residence,” Fred answered after the third ring.

“Hi Fred, may I speak to my grandmother?”

“She retired early to her room.”

I glanced at my watch. It was seven-thirty. That was very early for her to be going to bed. She was a notorious night owl.

“Is she feeling okay?”

“I think she just wore herself out. She and Miss Thompson were working very hard all day.”

“Did she eat?”

My grandmother was naturally very thin, and when she got busy, she would forget to eat.

“Oh yes, your grandmother didn’t want to stop for lunch, but Miss Thompson insisted. She made octopus noodles.”

“Octopus noodles?” I’d heard of exotic dishes before but never octopus noodles. There was a Korean dish of a similar name. “Do you mean spicy octopus?”

“No. Octopus noodles. She said it’s one of her niece’s favorites. It’s macaroni and cheese topped with a hot dog cut in the shape of an octopus.”

“My grandmother ate macaroni and cheese with hot dogs?”

“She did. It paired very nicely with Miss Thompson’s brownies.”

“My grandmother ate a brownie?” Again, I found myself repeating what I was being told, but I honestly couldn’t believe what I was hearing.

My grandmother did not eat brownies, cookies, or pies. Her palate was much more refined. Her dessert tastes ran toward truffles, tiramisu, crème br?lée, ganache, Grand Marnier soufflé, and French crepes.

It wasn’t only dessert. In my thirty-six years, I’d never known my grandmother to eat macaroni and cheese. Or hot dogs. Or hamburgers or pizza. She ate ‘real’ food, not junk food.

“No, she ate two brownies.”

“Miss Thompson made brownies for lunch as well?”

“No, she baked them over the weekend and brought them in for me. I must have mentioned my sweet tooth, and she remembered. After lunch, they worked for a few hours, then watched a couple of episodes of Project Runway before Miss Thompson left for the day. Your grandmother had a light dinner and then retired to her room.”

“Would you please tell my grandmother I’ll speak to her tomorrow?”

“Will do.”

“Thanks, Fred.” I disconnected the call as Lester pulled up to my building.

“Tell Maribel I said hello.” I patted the back of the seat. “See you tomorrow.”

“See you tomorrow.” Lester lifted his hand and waved as he stared at my reflection in the rearview mirror.

Through the lobby of the building, and as I rode the elevator up to the penthouse, I wondered what sort of voodoo spell Ashley Thompson had cast over my grandmother. I’d been wary of her, but the fact that she had her eating was definitely a check in the pro column. Also, she passed the Hannah Hayes test. She’d interviewed her, and although Ashley didn’t have any experience, Hannah reported back that she was bright, creative, and considered her an asset to the company with the caveat that she was not qualified for the position of COO, but she would rather have her in the role than Raquel.

The elevator doors opened to the apartment, and when I walked in, I heard music playing. Serena was home. We could finally have our talk. She was most likely taking a bath. She always listened to music while she was in the bath.

That conversation I’d had with Gran about the paper she’d found had been replaying in my mind a lot lately. Not because I believed that I knew what I wanted in a wife when I was six years old. Although it was slightly unnerving that Serena hadn’t met one of those criteria.

It was the question she’d asked me.

“ What do you love about Serena ?”

It was strange, but lately, I felt like I didn’t even know my fiancée. When we first got together, we spent most of our time in bed. We had really great sexual chemistry. Outside of bed, we shared the same taste in music, television, art, and film. She was classy, stunning, smart, and an asset at business dinners and social settings.

I hate that that had been a consideration, but I was a realist, and it was.

Before my grandfather died, those things felt like enough.

So why did they suddenly not?

Why did his death make everything seem so much more important and somehow less important simultaneously?

It was strange how different the world felt without him in it. He’d been such a looming figure in my life.

I walked up the stairs and was so lost in my own thoughts that I didn’t register the sounds I heard coming from the bedroom before I pushed the door open. As soon as I walked inside, the sounds I’d overheard registered with what I saw in front of me.

Serena was naked in bed with another man. Her back was to me, and she was riding him.

“Fuck me. Yes, yes, yes,” she moaned out as she bounced on his cock.

“When you’re done, we need to talk,” I calmly stated before turning around and walking out of the room.

Serena gasped before screaming. As I made my way down the stairs, I could hear a commotion behind me in the room. With each step, I waited to feel something: anger, sadness, or betrayal. The only emotion I felt at the moment was disgust—not for the reasons one might assume. I was bothered at the thought of her being with another man in our bed before tonight and not changing the sheets. It was very unsanitary. That’s what offended me.

Thankfully, we always used protection, so STDs weren’t a concern. Even though she assured me that she was on the birth control shot, my mysophobia and OCPD dictated that I always use contraception no matter what my relationship status had been.

I entered the den and sat on the saddle brown leather armchair, patiently waiting for her to join me downstairs. A man hurried down the steps before her, barefoot, shirtless, and in tattered jeans. He had long blond hair and a chiseled upper body. I recognized him from a billboard I’d seen for a Calvin Klein ad with her. I assumed she must have met him on the shoot.

Serena ran down the stairs behind him in a robe and came into the den with tears brimming in her eyes while he walked directly to the elevator.

“It’s not what you think,” she rushed to explain.

“I don’t think there’s much room for interpretation for what I just walked in on.”

“I mean, I don’t love him. It was just sex.”

“Do you love me?” It wasn’t a rhetorical question. Or even one born from anger or hurt. I was genuinely curious.

“Of course I do.” She sat down on the round black coffee table in front of me.

“What do you love about me?” I posed the same question Gran had posed to me.

“What do you mean? We’ve been together for eight years.”

“Seven,” I corrected her. “That’s not what I asked you. What do you love about me?”

She shook her head and blinked several times. “Um, I love our—um, I love our Sunday nights watching movies in bed. And I love um, when we go to the opera, and we go to concerts. And what was that restaurant we tried last year, um, Dominico’s? I love that we always try new food.”

“Yes. We like the same movies and music and food. What do you love about me ?”

“You’re hot. You’re sexy. You’re always on time.”

“I don’t think we should get married because I’m punctual.”

“I said you were hot.”

“That’s my appearance. The only thing you said about me, what actually makes me, me, is that I’m on time.”

“You’re really good in bed.”

“That’s sexual chemistry. That’s not me.”

“Well, what do you love about me ?” she asked defensively.

Her tone ended the conversation. I was willing to have a civil discussion with her, but after what she’d just done, I didn’t feel she had any right to get an attitude. This was over, and I didn’t owe her any explanation or closure.

“I never claimed to love you.” It might be petty of me to point that out, but it was the truth. “You’ve always known that. You have never had an issue with that before. All you cared about was my status and getting the ring on your finger. You can keep the ring. You have until September to find another place to live.”

“What? You can’t do this!”

I stood, and she did as well. She put her hands on my chest and tried to stop me from leaving.

“Serena, we’re done. Don’t make this harder on yourself.” She knew that when I decided something, there was no changing my mind. She lowered her arms. “I’m leaving for Japan in two days. I’ll stay at the hotel until then. You will be gone by the time I get back from my trip. That’s six months. Goodbye.”

I stepped around her and went up to our room, my room, to pack my things.

“It was a mistake. One mistake!” She called after me. “Why would you throw away seven years for one mistake? You’ll regret this! I’m the best thing that has ever happened to you! You’ll never find anyone better than me!”

If that was truly the case, then I’d rather be alone.