Without another word, she headed to the elevator and pushed the button. She slipped inside, then turned to face him, as if wanting to say something.
He watched as the door closed on Kate. And then, finally giving into his anger, he gathered up the tray of pastries and hurled them at the wall.
As he watched the trail of expensive strawberry chunks slide down the wall, he felt his chest rise and fall with a few shaky breaths. He’d lost his cool, and all because a stranger called him out for ignoring the pitiful truth in his life. He had no daughter. He might as well have been Michelle’s former babysitter. He had no claim to her.
Kate Callender had seen right through him. Unimpressed by his wealth and influence, she’d seen him for the mess he truly was.
He’d resented her for her insight.
Now, feeling just as sick for the way he treated her, Liam turned away from the sticky berry muck. What was he supposed to do? Apologize for jumping down Kate’s throat? No, he didn’t owe her any explanations, certainly not regarding his personal life. He’d worked hard to keep his relationships out of the papers, and just as hard to keep photographers away from Michelle. Kate had no right to question him.
If anything, she’d done him a favor. Now he truly saw her for the busybody she was. In fact, next time she so much as put a foot on his property, he would throw her over his shoulder and remove her himself.
Consoled by this steely determination, he didn’t walk over to the window to see if Kate had left yet, even though a frustrating part of him remained curious. Rather, he grabbed a wet cloth from his kitchen and began to clean the mess. He could have called housekeeping, but didn’t want to explain why he had fruit and whipped cream on his wall. Not that he made a habit of explaining his messes.
Once he’d finished, he planted himself at his desk, and returned a dozen work related calls. All the while doing his best to forget a particular pair of reproving, yet sympathetic, hazel eyes.
After having pulled a late night at Vice, sleeping in his casino office, Liam arose for an early start. He’d taken time to sit in on some auditions by a couple of acts hoping for a spot at the casino’s piano bar Decadence. He had managers on staff who were responsible for booking talent, but when it came to hiring new acts, he liked being in the thick of things. After all, every artist under his roof was a representation of him and of his casinos. He wanted to know each act on his payroll would do him justice.
And it was a good thing too. His bar manager had wanted to hire one of the acts, but Liam had found the woman’s Judy Garland act cheesy. In fact, he’d vetoed all the acts. His manager had turned to him afterward, his face lined with frustration.
Too bad. His club, his rules.
Thank Christ he had insisted on his office being such a homey environment. With the sort of work he did, he often pulled these kind of all-nighters. There were days he didn’t leave his casinos at all. At times like this, he might not see his condo for a week. It helped him keep his mind off his former family life. As he got settled at his desk, he rolled his shoulders and tried to stretch out the nagging pull of sore muscles.
He’d dreamed of her last night, of Kate. Had dreamed of finger-combing her fiery mane of hair, right before he drove into her tight heat.
Fuck.
He stretched out his arms and cracked his knuckles in a feeble attempt to banish the red-headed demon from his visions. But in the end he gave into nagging temptation and wandered over to the window that faced the entrance.
No picket line. No Kate.
Okay. This should be no problem. He was bigger than this…this cock-driven moment of feeblemindedness.
As he attended his meetings that day, he ignored the burn in his stomach. When he once again looked back out the same window hours later, he congratulated himself on finally being rid of the pesky protestor.
Late that afternoon, as he drafted a few emails with his assistant Pearl, he stood as far away as possible from the window.
“Liam?” she prodded. “How do you want to respond to the email about the building permit for the old works building?”
Pearl’s voice barely cut through his consciousness and he didn’t think to answer her.
“Liam?”
He snapped out of his funk for a second. “Which email?”
“The one I sent you yesterday.”
Damn. He’d barely looked at it. “Just…tell him I want a definitive answer. We’ve wasted enough time on this issue.”
Despite his strong words, he knew his tone came out quiet and distracted, and not in a good way. He knew this shit with the building permit office could have been resolved sooner if he’d pushed it more. He should have pushed it more. He wanted to start working on his next property.
Didn’t he?
For some reason, he just wasn’t excited about the new project. His enthusiasm for building had waned, truth be told. Was he losing his fire, his drive?
Or was his fire simply smoking in another direction?
Pearl, a kind-hearted older woman, approached him from the side and put a hand on his sleeve. “Are you okay, Liam?”
“Yeah, thanks.”
“Nando Perreira left two messages this morning.”
“I know.”
She gave his arm a rub, but he gently pulled away. Professional to a fault, Pearl didn’t usually allow her inner nurturer to manifest, but when it did, it made him uncomfortable. He hadn’t had much mothering growing up and still didn’t quite know what to do with it.
His stepmom Shauna had guaranteed that. She’d made sure he never understood what it felt like to have the support of a good woman in his life. She was most likely the reason he’d fouled up every relationship he’d had. She’d turned him into an unforgiving bastard who hated to lose, who had to be in control, and every time something shitty happened to him, he heard her voice.
You’re not my son. I’ll never think of you as my son. You mean nothing to me.
Squeezing those memories out of his brain, he looked at Pearl. He took in the sympathetic slant of her eyes, knowing she felt the same way Kate did, that he should just let Michelle go. He’d shared the details of his custody suit with Pearl some time ago, and she’d also stated, albeit more diplomatically than Kate, that he should relinquish his claim.
Why was he the only one who seemed to understand he wanted to do right by the little girl?
Kate’s voice sounded in his head. She’s not your daughter.
He recognized the truth in her statement, and his heart broke. All his success wouldn’t take this sort of hurt away either. It was the sort of pain that traditionally one could only forget with the help of copious amounts of alcohol. And even then the effect was temporary.
Pearl took a deep breath and gathered up her things. “I’ll let you know when I hear about the permit.”
He nodded in acknowledgment. “Thanks, Pearl.”
His work day finished, he once again looked out the window overlooking the entrance.
No Kate.
By now, even Wade was on the lookout for her. He’d asked about her a couple of times already. The security guard stood sentinel outside, craning his neck, as if hoping to catch a glimpse of her on the Strip. In just a few days they’d both gotten used to her being there and felt her absence, despite the fact she’d like nothing more than to see Vice burn to the ground. It should be funny.
So why wasn’t he laughing?
Temples throbbing, Liam left his office and hit the executive gym, determined to pound Kate’s memory out of his head. It did no good. As much as he tore up the treadmill, he couldn’t run away from her face. It seemed to follow him everywhere these days.
Feeling defeated for reasons he barely understood, he headed back to his suite. Eager to escape the working world for a few hours, he spent the night on his couch, indulging in a marathon of The Walking Dead.