“The Serb does what he does,” Kai said. Most people referred to Vuk as the Serb, per his preference, but I couldn’t shake the habit of calling people by their, well, actual name. “No one knows what goes through his head, but if he hasn’t dissolved your partnership yet, I assume everything’s fine.”
My shoulders tensed.
Kai’s eyes sharpened behind his glasses. “Is everything fine?” “Besides the small matter of the fire? Sure.” I tossed back my drink. “Because I’ll dissolve the partnership myself after the New Year. The club isn’t happening.” “Why not?”
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 I’d given Sloane; like Sloane, Kai seemed unimpressed.
“People make mistakes,” he said. “Entrepreneurs make even more. You can’t succeed in business without failing, Xavier.”
“Maybe not, but I bet most mistakes involve a disrupted cash flow or media mishap, not a fire that could’ve killed people.”
“Could’ve but didn’t.”
“By some miracle.”
“I don’t believe in miracles. Everything that happens, happens for a reason.” Kai turned to face me fully. “That 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 wouldn’t have done that if they didn’t 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.”
The heated reprimand was so out of character for Kai, it stunned me into silence. We weren’t 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. I’d taken the fire and made it all about me and my guilt, and I’d 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 I’d still fail. The fire gave me an opportunity to walk away without admitting to that fear.
I’d 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 I’m worse.
I swallowed the golf ball that’d lodged itself in my throat and tried to think logically.
Kai might’ve been right, but it didn’t 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 I’d been born into a simple, normal family with regular jobs and regular lives instead of this Succession-esque mess.
“Isabella put you up to this, didn’t she?” Even in my current state, I was clearheaded enough to recognize that Kai’s appearance in this particular place, on this particular day, wasn’t a coincidence. He didn’t respond, but the small twitch of his mouth said it all.
“How’d you know I’d be here today?” I asked.
“Educated guess. This bar has seen its fair share of comfort drinking.” He nodded at the glittering display of expensive bottles and crystal glasses. “I may have also asked security to alert me if and when you check in.”
I snorted. “I’m flattered you went to the trouble.”
“Don’t be. I didn’t do this for you,” Kai said dryly. “I did this for my reputation and for Isa. I was the one who connected you with the people on my list, and it’ll reflect poorly on me if the club doesn’t succeed. Plus…” His gaze flicked to his phone. “Isa would never let me hear the end of it if I didn’t get you to pull your head out of the sand.”
Sloane.
My hand flexed around my glass as another wave of regret crashed into me. She’d tried to help, and I’d driven her away. Then I couldn’t be bothered to say a simple I’m sorry, not even on Christmas, because I’d been too wrapped up in my own mental bullshit.
God, I was an idiot.
I stood abruptly and grabbed my coat from the hook beneath the counter. “Listen, this was a good talk, but—”
“Go.” Kai returned to his drink. “And if anyone other than Isa asks, this conversation never happened.”
I didn’t need him to tell me twice.
I sprinted out of the club and into one of Valhalla’s chauffeured town cars. I gave the driver Sloane’s address.
It’d been eight days, two hours, and thirty-six minutes since we last spoke.
I only hoped I wasn’t too late.
CHAPTER 40
Xavier
“I’m sorry, sir, but I can’t let you go up,” the concierge said with zero traces of sympathy. “You don’t have authorized access.”
“I’ve been coming here for weeks.” I tamped down my frustration in favor of a smile. Catch more flies with honey than vinegar and all that. “Apartment 14C. Call her. Please.”
“I’m sorry, sir.” This concierge was different from the one who’d let me up when I thought something had happened to Sloane, and he proved remarkably resistant to my powers of persuasion. “Ms. Kensington specifically left instructions stating that no guests are to be admitted without her explicit written approval.”
“She’s my girlfriend. I have written approval,” I said. I wasn’t technically lying. We were dating, and I didn’t know for sure that she hadn’t added my name to her list of approved guests. “Perhaps you lost it.”
