Forty-Seven: Pierce

FORTY-SEVEN

PIERCE

Jerry

Your newest nanny just quit.

Michael will pick up Olivia and Clara will handle the twins.

Will you schedule a new interview?

I’m on it…

F uck.

I stared out my office window, hating that the pain in my chest was getting worse every day. No matter how many Tylenol I swallowed or how many extra hours of sleep I claimed, the emotional agony never ceased.

“Ladies and gentlemen, if you look in this room, you will see one of the rarest species in Manhattan.” Brian stepped into my office, holding up his phone.

“He’s a forty-five-year old billionaire with the world at his fingertips, but he is dejected, sad, and he looks like utter shit.”

“Get out and let me eat my breakfast in peace.”

“He’s showing us a glimpse of aggression, but he’s all bark and no bite,” he continued. “He lost his alpha male edge weeks ago.”

“Don’t make me call security up here, Brian.”

“Who do you think sent me up here to check on you?” He laughed, shutting the door. There’s a rumor floating around that you’re not the real Mr. Dawson.”

I pushed my food away; I couldn’t’ even pretend to have an appetite.

“Half the staff thinks you’ve been replaced by a mindless clone, and the other half is convinced the cursed basement ghosts have infiltrated your brain.”

“Please tell me you’re not serious.”

“If you must know, I’m on Team Clone.” He picked up my a?aí bowl and stole my spoon. “I haven’t seen you actually eat in a while.”

“Because you keep bothering me with bullshit.”

“What’s my middle name, Clone ?”

“I can’t believe this…”

“Where did we vacation together?”

“Greece.”

“What’s our safe word?”

“Our what ?”

“Act like you didn’t hear that one.” He waved it away. “What’s my favorite cigar blend?”

“Padron 1926.”

“If I call you late at night and tell you I have a flat tire, what do I mean?”

“Your mom is about to call and ask where you are.”

“Hmmmm. Do you care if I eat your entire a?aí bowl?”

“Go ahead. Shut the door on your way out, then tell security they’re fired if they pull this stunt again.”

“Ah, there’s the asshole I know.” He smiled. “I’ll do that.”

“Hey, wait a second.”

“Yeah?”

“Do I really look like shit?”

“Let’s see.” He opened the door. “You’re wearing a wrinkled ‘Best Dad Ever’ sweatshirt with jeans, and you literally just got to work.”

“So?”

“It’s five o’ clock in the afternoon, Pierce.” He stepped into the hallway and lowered his voice. “Okay, yeah. He’s definitely a clone…”