Chapter 22
CHAPTER 22
SIMON
S tanding there, gazing out at Houston, I felt the weight of the day pressing down on me like a physical burden. Today had been one of the worst days I had in a long time. I knew I was going to have tough days. I knew stepping into the role of the CEO came with plenty of responsibility, but I couldn't be everywhere. I wasn't drilling the oil. I wasn't the one that fucked up. I didn't dump thousands of gallons of oil. But I was the guy that was going to take the hit.
Me. Not the CEO. Not the company. Me personally. The public was going to hold me personally responsible. I was the guy to hate. I tried to pretend that didn't bother me.
But it did.
I felt so isolated. I was stranded on an island. I had no friends. No family. But I had Rylee. I thought. I didn't know what I had, but the fact she reached out made my whole damn day. It felt so good to know I had someone in my corner.
I closed my eyes, my mind going back to the events earlier in the day.
When I arrived at the refinery, I found exactly what I'd expected: a picket line of furious locals. Parents held signs and screamed at my men about poisoning the ground their children played on. Others yelled about the stench, reducing property values, and respiratory issues. It was a nightmare.
My first priority was my men. They had been on the ground trying to save us from this disaster since the spill happened. I could see the exhaustion and mental fatigue in their eyes.
I immediately started arranging food and clean water for them, medical assistance for those who needed it, and relief shifts so they could get some rest. I wasn't going to let them suffer in silence while trying to clean up someone else's mess.
The protest was harder to deal with. I understood their anger, their frustration. It was our oil that had spilled, our company that had caused the catastrophe. They were right to be mad, but it wasn't going to make the cleanup happen any faster. I had tried reasoning with them, but nothing seemed to penetrate their rage.
"Hang in there," I told them, clapping one on the shoulder. "This will end, and there will be bonuses for all of you. Just get through this. I trust you. Truly, thank you. I know you didn't do it and I cannot properly thank you for your hard work. If you need anything, do not hesitate to ask. Ask me. Ask the foreman. Ask. I'm here to help you."
Their nods were weary, but I could see they believed me.
"Does anyone have any questions? Ask me anything and I will do my best to answer."
A man, his face streaked with oil and exhaustion, raised a hand. "How long do you think before we get this cleaned up?"
I took a deep breath, looking out at the sea of protestors, then back at my crew. "I don't know," I admitted. "Estimates are ranging from weeks to months. But I promise you this, we won't stop until every trace of oil is gone."
There was a murmur through the crowd, a mix of frustration and relief. They appreciated the honesty, even if it wasn't what they wanted to hear.
With that handled, I turned my attention to the increasingly angry crowd. I walked toward them, offering myself as a focal point for their rage. It was better they came at me than the people trying to mitigate the disaster. They started chanting at me, calling me vile and worse. Someone threw something that missed, but the second object—a tomato—burst against my chest.
I didn't flinch. I met their eyes, trying to project calm and contrition. "I'm sorry," I started, reining in my anger and frustration. "I know this is a mess. We're doing everything we can ? —"
That's when the rock struck me above the eye. Pain exploded in my forehead. I felt the warm trickle of blood. Security rushed in, dispersing the crowd as I touched my brow. My fingers came away bloody. I couldn't help but think that this angry mob would get along great with my family. People hated me. I truly brought out the worst in people. I was rushed to a waiting car and was whisked away from the chaotic scene. Never had I ever been left so dumbfounded. Never had I been forced to run away with my tail between my legs. It had been humiliating and a little scary to know I truly had people that wanted to hurt me.
I heard the door open and felt a sense of relief wash over me. I wasn't alone. I had an ally. I never could have imagined the one person in the world I could lean on was a bartender I met a short time ago. A bartender that openly hated me until she didn't.
I turned to Rylee as she stepped into the suite, her smile lighting up the room. The kiss was a balm to my very wounded soul. She stepped back and looked at me with a soft smile. But then her expression fell when she saw the cut on my brow. "What happened to you?" she asked.
I could smell her shampoo. Her eyes were full of concern. How long had it been since someone looked at me like that? For the briefest moment, I wanted to collapse into her arms and just ask her to hold me. I felt like I had been alone for so long.
"It doesn't matter," I told her, gathering her up for another kiss. She melted into me, her fingers slipping up into my hair, and for a moment, the chaos of the day faded away.
When we finally pulled apart, she was still looking at me with those concerned eyes. "It does matter," she insisted. "You're hurt."
I shook my head. "It's just a scratch. I've had worse."
Her fingers gently traced the cut, and she frowned. "You should clean this up, at least."
"I'll be fine," I said, but I couldn't resist the comfort of her touch. "You being here is more important."
She sighed, clearly not convinced but willing to let it go for now. "Fine. But don't think I'm letting you off the hook."
I smiled, feeling some of the tension drain away. "Deal."
We moved to the couch, where I sank down with a heavy sigh. Rylee sat beside me. "Tell me about your day," she said softly.
I laughed. "Seriously?"
"Yes, tell me. I saw a couple of headlines, but I don't know what really happened."
I hesitated, not wanting to burden her with the mess, but she seemed genuinely interested. And if she was going to be near me, she needed to know what she was up against.
"It's been a shitty day. The spill has everyone on edge. The locals are understandably furious, and my men are exhausted. I tried to address the crowd, but it got ugly. They don't want to hear from me. They hate me."
She reached for my hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "I saw the news. It looked intense."
" Intense is one way to put it," I said with a rueful chuckle. "Someone threw a rock at me."
Her eyes widened. "That's how you got the cut?"
I nodded. "Security broke it up before it got worse, but yeah. If there wasn't security, I don't think I would be sitting here right now."
Rylee shook her head, looking incredulous. "I can't believe people would do that. It's not like you personally went down there and dumped the oil yourself. Shame on them."
"They're scared and angry. I get it. We messed up, and now we have to fix it."
"You're doing everything you can," she said firmly. "And you're taking responsibility. That's more than most people would do. You don't deserve to be assaulted. That pisses me off."
"Thank you," I said, feeling a lump in my throat. "It means a lot to hear you say that."
We sat in silence for a moment, the city lights twinkling outside the window. Then Rylee shifted closer, her head resting on my shoulder. "So, what happens next?"
"More cleanup, more damage control," I said with a sigh. "I'll probably be here for a while, overseeing everything."
"Is it safe for you to be here?" she asked.
I chuckled, the barest hint of bitterness tinging my laughter. "I don't know if it's safe anywhere, to be honest. But the risk comes with the job."
She was quiet for a moment, her fingers tracing a pattern on the back of my hand. "You've got some tough skin," she murmured.
"Yeah," I agreed, my voice just above a whisper. "You have to in this business. The world isn't kind to those who fail."
After a moment, she looked up at me. "But you didn't fail," she said softly. "The circumstances were out of your control. You didn't cause the spill. You're just left to shoulder the blame. Whoever did this, they're the ones who failed."
"You really believe that, don't you?"
"I do," she said simply, and in that moment, I wanted more than anything to believe it too. "You didn't go out there and dump the oil, did you?"
"Of course not."
"And it's probably costing you a lot of money."
I nodded. "I don't have the exact numbers but it's around two point five million a day. That's not counting the cleanup cost and the money we'll be paying to anyone that was affected by the spill."
Her eyes bulged. "A day?!"
"Yes, a day," I confirmed with a grim nod, feeling the weight of it all settle more firmly onto my shoulders. It was more than just about money. It was people's livelihoods, the environment, the company's reputation. It was a disaster in every sense of the word.
She let out a shaky breath, her fingertips going still on my hand. For a moment we sat in silence, the magnitude of it all settling between us.
"That's unreal," Rylee finally murmured, her voice thick with empathy. "Is that going to bankrupt you?"
I had to crack a smile. "No."
"You're that rich?"
"The company is." I nodded. "I've invested everything in the company. My time, my energy, my life. If it goes down, I won't become poor or anything but it would mean the loss of something I've given my life to."
"That's awful," she murmured.
"I know," I replied, a sigh escaping my lips. "It's more than just money lost. It's years of effort, dedication, all the people who trusted me with their livelihoods. If this situation doesn't resolve soon, it could all come crashing down."
"Do you think it will get resolved?"
"Yes," I sighed. "It will. It's not the first incident. It won't be the last. We try to prevent things like this, but it just happens. We'll take a hit, but we'll rebound. Things like this are factored into business."
"That's a lot of pressure to put on yourself," she said.
"I signed up for this knowing full well what the stakes were. I didn't expect it to be easy."
"But did you expect it to be this hard?" she asked, looking up at me with those empathetic eyes that hit me in a way I couldn't explain.
"I guess no one ever really expects the storm. You just have to roll with it."
"Where's the bathroom in this place?" she asked and got to her feet. "I'm going to clean that cut, like it or not."
I pointed to a door. "It's fine. It's just a cut."
"From a rock that was covered in dirt, probably animal pee, and human spit and God knows what else."
"Great," I groaned.