Vincent drops his pen to the table cluttered with files. His receptionist notified him of my presence yet he appears ruffled. I take another step inside his office and drop to the chair without an invitation.
We don’t speak.
I glance at the window overlooking the tall buildings and skyscrapers in one row. There is a pot of flowers on the windowsill. I smile at it. El has one of those for putting the flowers I send her. A familiar heaviness presses against my chest, my fingers trail the edge of his wooden desk and I exhale a soft, quick breath.
“Took you long enough,” Vincent finally says.
The longer I stare, the less he looks like her. All I see are black, bitter eyes that are nothing like Nicole’s. She never mentioned a brother. She never mentioned a sibling. She didn’t like discussing her family. I didn’t like talking about mine so I was fine with that. I pick a pencil from his desk and spin it in a circle.
I hold his stare. “You have been expecting me,” I state and return the pencil to its holder.
“Yes.”
Vincent leans back into his swivel chair with a smug smile my hand itches to slap off. I want to believe he would have propped his legs on the desk but that wouldn’t be intimidating. His fingertips touch, his eyes scroll over my body in silence. He does it twice and my arms grow clammy under his scrutiny.
Fuck this.
“I know Nicole was your sister.”
We shouldn’t waste each other’s time. He seems to agree with that. “I know you know, Brandon.”
The hardening of my jaw speaks nothing of the war going on inside me. I straighten up. Once the video is out, I can do one of two things. Allow things to die a natural death or sue the bastard. Suing him will only offer temporary relief. It’s a remedy after death. I don’t want the damage to happen. I don’t want it out.
“What now?” I ask.
The AC positioned on the wall whirls to life, the temperature of the room drops. A chill works down my spine, I tug on my sleeve under the table without breaking eye contact. Is this part of his plan? To freeze me to death in this shit office? That might have worked since I didn’t notify anyone before coming here. Sadly, I have people who will notice my absence, they will miss me. The twins will. Maybe Joshua too.
A wisp of air escapes him when he opens his mouth to say, “You pay.”
I drum two fingers onto the table and cock my head. My gaze darts between him and the wall of awards behind him. This guy. I should try smashing his head onto the desk, better still, add his head to his tall collection of awards. But that will be murder and I am done with murder. But what’s the alternative?
“What I don’t understand is why you are so mad?” I say without expecting a reply. I fold my arms on my chest. Vincent is still staring but his jaw ticks. He doesn’t like this conversation. “Yeah, we had a fling.”
His hand descends on the table, sending sheets of paper flying in my face. “A fling?” he spits out.
Unimpressed by his misbehaviour, I wave a finger and shake my head. His face burns red with anger and my lips spread in a grin similar to the one he was sporting on my arrival. If he is not comfortable opening old wounds, he shouldn’t have started this. We were never sexually involved because I figured out our goals clashed from the beginning. Nicole wanted a partner and a future with kids, I wanted a submissive.
“Yes, a fling.” If the first few days of our interaction can be considered as that. As soon as I knew she wasn’t what I wanted, I withdrew my affection and stated what I sought in a woman at that period.
Vincent shoots out of his seat and the chair clatters to the ground. He leans forward with his fingers digging into the desk and I arch a brow. His face is red from trying to keep himself in check and I expect fumes to spurt out of his ears any moment soon. I nod at his upturned seat.
“Pick it up.”
Vincent scoffs. I clasp my hands on the desk. Some people have called me cold but it has been too long since I proved them right. “Pick up your seat, Vincent and sit your ass down. I am not done talking.”
If he was angry, now, he’s furious. He rolls his sleeves to his elbows, then bends as if to pick the chair. A gentle breeze caresses my cheek as he sends the chair flying past me. I don’t flinch. Even when my cheek starts to sting and a thin line of blood trails down to the collar of my jacket, I remain rigid with a smile glued to my lips.
His chest heaves from the aftermath of his action, he stares glumly at the bruised spot on my cheek, then back at his hands in shock. I bring my hands to my knees, stripping him with a gaze.
My head drops to my shoulder like a malfunctioning robot, I ask, “Do you feel better?”
This idiot is trying to ruin my life. Lines have blurred. Logic doesn’t belong in this conversation. I will hurt him in all the places that matter the most. I will strip him off his armour and come down hard on him.
“Don’t tell me what to do in my office,” he says, his voice a pathetic whisper. I am getting somewhere.
“Are you finished?” I cross one leg over the other. His eyes stray to the chair behind me. “Your sister is dead.” My words seem to cause him physical pain, he doubles over and grips the table as a pained moan escapes him. If we were friends, I would walk over to him and pull him in for an awkward but reassuring hug. I’ll try to comfort him because I know pain. I breathe pain. “Nicole is gone. Gone. Delete the video.”
When Vincent straightens up, his eyes are shining with tears that don’t fall. My resolve almost weakens. I don’t need to be involved in this mess but I need him away from my girls. I need him away from me.
“She’s gone because of you.” The heels of his palms dig into his eyes and he turns his back to me. “She’s gone because of your brother.”
My heart stops. Then it starts thrashing in my chest. Vincent is too fixed on his sorrows to witness the blood drain from my face and I pinch my cheeks to restore colour to them.
Brendan was going to use her against me. But I didn’t care. Nicole was not my woman, just a naive lady who forced herself into the friendzone since it was the only way she could have me. I couldn’t love her.
“Both of you did that to her. You ruined her life.” His head hangs low like talking is taking a toll on him. He spins to face me, his posture spells defeat. Pain. Resignation. “There’s no recovery from that.”
My voice deserts me, I’ll never know how I found the strength to say, “So it’s about revenge.”
His palms fist and he nods. “Always has been, Brandon. Always.” My head bobs. I knew but hearing him confirm it makes it more real. All for what? Friends disconnect all the time and after that night, she lost her place in my life. I didn’t need a child. He lowers himself to his desk with a sigh, his voice is laden with pain when he says, “How could you treat her like she was trash? She adored you. She loved you.”
“Didn’t ask her to.” He doesn’t look up. Instead he spreads his fingers on his knees. Guilt weighs heavy on my shoulders. I grip the arm of my chair. I treated her good but I guess good wasn’t enough for her. All of these is because of love. Love is not worth it. But we can put an end to all of it today. “Vincent. Let’s–”
“You asked her to kill her baby,” he whispers while inspecting his nails. I wince at his tone. He knows too much. If he loved his sister so much, where was he on the nights she broke down? Why was he never mentioned? He’s not entirely a saint in this mess. “When she couldn’t, you found another way to do it.”
“It wasn’t me.”
Abortion made sense then. It was the only option. But if she had told me she couldn’t do it, by God, I would have played my part as the baby’s father. She didn’t. She went away and that chapter was closed.
“Doesn’t matter.” He wipes his hands on his knee and flashes me a smile. “Both of you are just as evil.”
When I think back to this conversation in the future, I will wonder why I tell him, “Sofie is alive.”
Maybe because I am tired.
He hurts me. I hurt him. We go at it again until we are both dead or one of our families is. When does it end? Vincent looks up to me and his expression crumbles. My confession has the opposite effect on him.
“You are a liar.” A crazed look enters his eyes, an unfamiliar emotion seizes me as he jumps to his feet. I stand and take a step back. “You are a fucking liar. Sofie is dead. I visit her grave. I take flowers to her.”
He’s talking to me. He’s talking to himself. I don’t know. His eyes are wide with anger, hurt and many emotions while his hands make wild, unintelligible gestures. He yanks his tie and stops in front of me.
“You are a liar,” he says in a firm tone, gaze meeting mine. “And I swear on Nicole, you will pay for it.”