I wouldnāt win awards for my eloquence today, but I was afraid that if I uttered more than a handful of words at a time, it would destroy my already-tenuous grip on my emotions.
I hadnāt allowed myself to fully feel the implications of what happened with Xavier and the silence thatād followed, and if I had my way, I never would. Some things were better left repressed.
Isabella paused her search for the perfect thriller, and there was another exchange of glances around the room.
āWhat are you going to do when the trial ends?ā Isabella asked cautiously.
I set my jaw against the pressure swelling in my chest. āI donāt know.ā
Except I did.
I just didnāt know if I had the strength to go through with it.
I could describe the week after the fire in one word: hell.
The paperwork? Hell. Visiting the hospital and seeing the workersā burns up close? Hell. Speaking to the workersā agonized families? Hell.
Not seeing or talking to Sloane while knowing how much Iād hurt her the last time we spoke? Hell times a fucking thousand.
I shouldāve run after Sloane and apologized right after she left, but Iād been worried Iād make things worse. I hadnāt been in the right frame of mind to do anything except go home, pour myself a glass of whiskey, and pass the hell out.
The days after that had been filled with phone calls, meetings, paperwork, and a million other things I didnāt want to do. Iād tried to contact Vuk but couldnāt get through, and Iād spent Christmas at home, torn between calling Sloane and avoiding our inevitable confrontation like a coward.
The coward won out.
I wasnāt proud of it, but our trial dating period ended soon, and I didnāt need a genius-level IQ to know Iād blown it.
As long as we didnāt talk, I could live in denial and pretend we were going through a minor hiccup, which was how I ended up at Valhallaās bar the Sunday after Christmas, drowning my sorrows with Lagavulin.
I finished my drink and motioned the bartender for another one. He slid a fresh glass of whisky across the counter as someone settled on the stool next to mine.
āSave it,ā I said without turning my head.
āThis is quite sad.ā Kai ignored my preemptive dismissal, his tone mild. āHave you considered other methods of coping besides drinking by yourself atāāhe checked his watchāāthree in the afternoon?ā
āIām not in the mood for your judgment, and Iām not the only one sitting at the bar at three in the afternoon.ā I cast a pointed glance in his direction. āArenāt you supposed to be in London right now?ā
āWe flew back early at Isabellaās insistence.ā A delicate pause. āApparently, one of her friends needs āmajor cheering up.ā Her words.ā
It was obvious who sheād meant.
My gut twisted at the indirect mention of Sloane, and it took everything in me not to interrogate Kai.
Has Isabella talked to Sloane already? What did she say? How is she doing? How much does she hate me right now?
āHer friend isnāt the only one.ā Kai nodded his thanks when the bartender brought him a strawberry gin and tonic. He had a strange affinity for that particular cocktail. āIām sorry about the fire. Truly.ā He sounded sincere, which made it worse.
The past week hadnāt done much to ease my guilt, and I felt like I didnāt deserve peopleās sympathy.
āHave you talked to Alex yet?ā Kai asked.
I grimaced. āNot yet. Weāre meeting tomorrow.ā
I wasnāt looking forward to it. Alexās assistant had scheduled the meeting, so I didnāt know his thoughts regarding the fire in his building, but I imagined they werenāt pleasant.
āI havenāt talked to Markovic since the fire either.ā I flashed back to the wild look in Vukās eyes and the old burn scars around his neck. āHe disappeared when we got out of the vault. Do you thinkā¦?ā
āThe Serb does what he does,ā Kai said. Most people referred to Vuk as the Serb, per his preference, but I couldnāt shake the habit of calling people by their, well, actual name. āNo one knows what goes through his head, but if he hasnāt dissolved your partnership yet, I assume everythingās fine.ā
My shoulders tensed.
Kaiās eyes sharpened behind his glasses. āIs everything fine?ā āBesides the small matter of the fire? Sure.ā I tossed back my drink. āBecause Iāll dissolve the partnership myself after the New Year. The club isnāt happening.ā āWhy not?ā
Another headache set in behind my eyes. I was sick and tired of explaining the same thing over and over again.
I clipped out the same reasons Iād given Sloane; like Sloane, Kai seemed unimpressed.
āPeople make mistakes,ā he said. āEntrepreneurs make even more. You canāt succeed in business without failing, Xavier.ā
āMaybe not, but I bet most mistakes involve a disrupted cash flow or media mishap, not a fire that couldāve killed people.ā
āCouldāve but didnāt.ā
āBy some miracle.ā
āI donāt believe in miracles. Everything that happens, happens for a reason.ā Kai turned to face me fully. āThat list of names I gave you? Those are some of the sharpest people in business. They believed in you enough to invest their time, money, and resources into the club, and they wouldnāt have done that if they didnāt think you were capable of pulling it off. So stop using your martyr act as an excuse and figure out how to finish what you started.ā
The heated reprimand was so out of character for Kai, it stunned me into silence. We werenāt friends, exactly, and maybe that was why his words successfully cut through me. There was nothing quite so humbling or clarifying as getting lambasted by an acquaintance.
I opened my mouth, closed it, then opened it again, but nothing came out because he was right. I was acting like a martyr. Iād taken the fire and made it all about me and my guilt, and Iād used that as an excuse to walk away from the club.
Despite my success in getting the process started and the best of the best onboard, I was afraid Iād still fail. The fire gave me an opportunity to walk away without admitting to that fear.
Iād downed three glasses of whisky before Kai arrived, but the realization sobered me up quickly.
First Sloane, now this. I really was a coward. To think I accused Bentley of being that very thing when Iām worse.
I swallowed the golf ball thatād lodged itself in my throat and tried to think logically.
Kai mightāve been right, but it didnāt change the fact that pulling off a grand club opening by early May was nearly impossible from a logistical perspective. I could throw together something smaller, but whatever I did needed to pass muster with the inheritance committee.
Basically, I could try harder, but my chances of failure had increased exponentially.
I rubbed my temple, wishing not for the first time that Iād been born into a simple, normal family with regular jobs and regular lives instead of this Succession-esque mess.
āIsabella put you up to this, didnāt she?ā Even in my current state, I was clearheaded enough to recognize that Kaiās appearance in this particular place, on this particular day, wasnāt a coincidence. He didnāt respond, but the small twitch of his mouth said it all.