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Chapter 58

CHAPTER 58

SIMON

T he next morning, I blinked up at the hotel ceiling, feeling the remnants of sleep tugging at my consciousness. I took a second to remind myself where I was and why. We'd been up late last night enjoying each other's bodies and just being together. I slept well, maybe a little too well. The bed felt too empty, and I quickly realized I was alone. I had been so out of it I didn't feel her get out of bed.

I slowly sat up, rubbing my face and looking around the room. I got up, pulled on my underwear, and walked into the suite that was quiet. She wasn't in the room, which sent a shiver of panic through me until I noticed a figure through the sheer curtains over the French doors that opened to the balcony. Rylee was out on the balcony, her silhouette framed against the morning light. She was sipping a coffee, wearing a robe, and looking out at the city. I could tell she was deep in thought.

I quietly made my way to her, wrapping my arms around her from behind. At first, she was stiff, but then she melted into me, exhaling softly. "Good morning," I murmured, kissing the side of her face.

"Good morning," she replied. "Thanks for last night. I needed the distraction."

I kissed the top of her head, holding her closer. "I know. This has been hard. But it's going to end soon, I promise."

"How?" Rylee asked, turning slightly to look up at me. "People are pissed. They are not going to just forget."

"Yesterday, their appointed reps told me what they wanted and I agreed," I replied.

"What did they want?"

"They wanted me to pay off their mortgages, install air filters and do regular environmental testing."

She turned to look at me. "You agreed to do that?" she asked.

"I did."

"That's a lot of money," she said with surprise.

"Yes, but we all know they will never sell their homes," I replied. "They're stuck there. They have no equity. If paying off their mortgage makes them happy, I'll do it. I threw in free gas for good measure."

"As a joke?" she asked.

I laughed. "No. For real. It'll save them money."

"So it's over?"

I shook my head. "Half the puzzle is solved. Now I just need to regroup with my lawyers and figure out our next steps. They're not happy with me."

"Why?"

"Because I made the promise without putting any kind of parameters on it," I said.

"Parameters?" Rylee questioned, her brow furrowing in confusion.

"Yes, parameters," I said. "It's a legal term—limits, restrictions, the fine print. Going ahead and making wild promises without my legal counsel was a reckless move."

She turned in my arms to fully face me then. Her eyes were sharp with understanding as she regarded me. "But it was your own call to make."

"It was." I sighed, ruffling a hand through my tousled hair. "I suppose I've never been good at doing things by the book."

That got a laugh from her, soft and amused. "That much is clear."

"I did talk to the head of their delegation, Amber. Nice lady. She's what convinced me. I went in there ready to fight but something about her changed my mind."

"What did she say?"

"Nothing." I laughed. "I just looked at her and decided to listen to her. She wasn't there to showboat or accuse. She was there doing what she thought was best for her own family and friends. She did come up to me after the meeting and apologized for what happened with the eggs and other harassment."

"That was nice."

"She said they weren't behind it, but she did say she had a feeling they weren't done," I admitted. "But we did get some leads from those that attended the meeting."

"Leads?"

"On the people that have been harassing us," I clarified. "I think we'll identify the guilty parties and press charges."

She didn't seem relieved like I had hoped. Her brow furrowed, and she turned fully in my arms to face me.

"Is that not what you want?" I asked, trying to read her expression.

She shook her head slightly. "It feels like everybody loses that way."

"What do you mean?" I asked, feeling a knot form in my stomach.

She hesitated, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "I've been thinking a lot, Simon. I'm scared this isn't the only time something like this will happen. And I'm not sure I want this."

I frowned, not understanding. "This?"

She nodded, her chin trembling. "Please don't make me say it."

But I couldn't help it. I had to know. "You mean you don't know if you want to be with me because I bring drama?"

Her chin trembled more, and she looked down. "That's actually the only thing I do know. But I also know that I don't want a life full of drama. Or to be with someone everyone in a room hates. I'm sorry. I know how horrible that sounds. But you love to piss people off. And I don't know what kind of father you're going to be." Her eyes widened, and she shook her head. "I'm saying a lot of things right now. I'm… I'm…"

I could see how lost she was, how all the worry and stress were eating at her. I wanted to save her from it, to protect her from the chaos I'd brought into her life. I took a deep breath, feeling the weight of my own guilt.

"I'm sorry I put you in this position," I said quietly. "I understand why you feel this way. You're not the first person to tell me I'm a drag. Once this is over, I can let you go."

Rylee sniffled, shaking her head. "I can't talk about this right now."

She brushed past me, slipping back into the suite and disappearing into the bathroom. I heard the shower turn on, the sound of the water drowning out the turmoil in my head.

I stood there on the balcony, the cold morning air stinging my skin. My heart ached at the thought of losing her, but I knew I couldn't blame her for feeling this way. Her friends had been right to worry, and now I was facing the consequences of my actions. I was dead weight. Everyone in my life eventually came to feel that way.

I paced the suite, trying to calm my racing thoughts. I needed to fix this, to show her that we could have a life together without all the drama. But how could I promise that when I couldn't even guarantee my own safety? I had to make things right, not just for myself, but for Rylee.

When she finally emerged from the bathroom, her eyes were red and puffy. She looked at me, and I could see the pain and uncertainty etched on her face. I wanted to reach out to her, to hold her and tell her everything would be okay, but I knew that words weren't enough right now.

"I have a meeting," I said. "I know it's hard, but it's safer for you to stay in. Call down to the concierge and ask for anything you want. I'll make sure he knows you get whatever you want."

She nodded but didn't say anything. The silence between us was heavy, filled with all the things we couldn't put into words. I walked away, going into the bathroom to shower and get ready for the day. I felt empty, like she had just hollowed out my heart.

When I stepped out of the shower, she was back on the balcony with her phone in hand. I stepped out. "I'll be gone until this afternoon. If you need anything, just call."

I turned to walk away.

"Simon, wait."

"Yes?"

"I know I hurt you. Please understand that isn't my intention."

"I understand, Rylee," I told her without looking back. "I'll see you later."

I spent the rest of the morning with my legal team, going over the details of the case and planning our next steps. Every time I thought about Rylee it broke my heart. I wanted to make things better for her, but I felt like I was fighting a losing battle. In the crowded room with my team, I felt alone. Every word spoken about the case seemed to echo in an empty space within me.

The meeting ended, and numbly, I walked out to my waiting car. "My office, please," I instructed.

My driver looked at me in the rearview mirror. I knew why he was looking at me. I was avoiding the office because of the protestors. But now—fuck it.

"Please," I said more firmly.

The driver pressed his lips together in a thin line but nodded, pulling out into the traffic. The busy city outside the comfort of the backseat blurred past us. I pulled out my phone and texted Rylee. Even if she didn't want to be with me, that didn't mean I stopped caring about her.

She quickly replied and let me know she was doing some online browsing. I told her not to browse—shop. It was on me.

Her reply was a laughing-face emoji that made me smile. Followed by another message that said she didn't need my money.

I understood it wasn't supposed to be an insult, but that was what it felt like. I replied with a message telling her if she changed her mind, I would be happy to provide her with my credit card.

I ran a hand through my hair, leaning back against the leather seat. It was too quiet, too still. I needed her voice, her reassurance. It was an achingly lonely realization that in the midst of all this chaos, she was my anchor. And my anchor was abandoning ship.

The car slowed as we turned into the familiar street where my office stood. I steeled myself, gazing out the tinted windows at the crowd gathered near the entrance. Their signs and chants were a stark reminder of who I was and why Rylee had been caught in the crossfire. The protestors were unlikely to be anyone from the area of the oil spill. They were protesting because it was cool. Because they didn't like me or anyone that had a lot of money.

Numbly, I stepped out of the car, feeling like I was walking onto a battlefield. Flashing cameras and angry shouts met me as my security team formed a human barricade between the public and me. Just another day in the life of Simon Locke.

Once inside the relative safety of my office, I slumped into my chair, staring blankly at the city beyond the glass. If Dallas was this bad, Houston would be even worse. Dana came into my office looking tired and stressed. She was another casualty of being linked to me.

"Can I get you anything?" she asked. "Coffee? Lunch?"

"I'm not hungry, Dana," I replied, my gaze never leaving the window. My appetite had disappeared along with Rylee's faith in me.

"Alright, let me know if you need anything," she said quietly before slipping back out.

I sighed and turned toward my desk, pretending to read through some paperwork. The words seemed to blur together, mixing with feelings of guilt and remorse. The quiet sound of a notification broke through my thoughts. It was another text from Rylee. She let me know she charged lunch to room service, as if she needed to ask.

I quickly replied and let her know she should order some clothes. When she offered to have Karen bring her stuff, I hated telling her that wasn't a good idea. If those people were watching the house, they would follow Karen. I was taking huge precautions whenever I came and went from the hotel to avoid being seen. The last thing I wanted to do was to have to move hotels. I had a feeling that would be the last straw for Rylee—not that there were any straws left.

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