Page 139 of Temporary Vows

“Why don’t you tell us more about the Hargroves,” Dad says with an easy grin.

"Sure, initially they came to us in January," I say, settling back in my chair. "Genevieve Hargrove contacted me directly, but she wasn’t sure if we were the best fit for her.”

It wasn’t that she was unsure. She had certain expectations she wanted to be met. They seemed to have been met when I am married Elodie. Genevieve called me yesterday and explained how impressed she was with my marriage to my long-lost love.

What she didn’t say was that she hadn’t signed with us before because of me—my attitude specifically. Mainly because she’s a media mogul with a public presence, and couldn’t be associated with a man who always causing a stir for his rudeness and lately the scandal with Grace.

But I redeemed myself. Or rather Elodie redeemed me.

I continue laying out the details but my mind drifts back to my wife. She’s never exactly left my mind. She’s always there, floating between my thoughts, haunting me like a ghost.

I can’t believe so much time has passed since I’ve seen her. Secretly I hoped the time apart would give me clarity. All it did was make me want her even more.

But my actions have been a juxtaposition to my desires.

I didn’t call her or message when I could have.Shouldhave.

I’ve had several instances when I nearly did. They almost surpass the times where I wanted to see her.

Every time when I thought I could fit in a quick visit I realized I actually couldn’t because time was against me. We’ve had several occasions where I was only in New York for the day for back-to-back meetings, then on my way by night fall.

Of course that didn’t excuse me from calling her. But, every time I almost dialed her number, I stopped myself either because I didn’t know what to say or I was conflicted, torn between wanting to preserve my original terms and conditions, and wanting her.

It became too much. When faced with anything that’s too much for me, I default to nothingness. In the business world it makes me look crude and ruthless. In my personal life it makes me look like a straight up asshole.

I don’t normally care one way or the other, but of course that’s also another exception with Elodie.

The truth is I still don’t know what to do, still don’t know what’s best for both of us.

It also doesn’t help that Salvatore hasn’t found anything more on our mole since the wedding. Not only is it worrying that a powerful mafia boss, with endless resources from the criminal underground, can’t help me, but I keep thinking this person is watching Elodie too.

I didn’t want to drag her into this. She doesn’t even know about it. I never told her on purpose.

Thankfully, nothing scandalous has happened since the Grace scandal. But this person needs to be rooted out. I feel that they’re just lying in wait for one of us to slip up, then they’ll make their move.

Then we’ll have to make our move. At the moment this person has their movements cloaked so efficiently, it seemsSalvatore won’t be able to track them until they actually do something.

Still, he remains confident. I have to trust that.

"The Hargrove’s have a portfolio valued at two hundred and thirty million spread across commercial real estate, tech acquisitions, and media subsidiaries,” I explain, trying to sound like I was focused the whole time I was talking. “Not only does Genevieve want a restructure. She wants everything we can offer."

Richard straightens. "Everything?"

"Every single service. I also thought this would be perfect to coincide with Dad’s transfer to London next year. This one contract could keep us in business for years to come.”

Dad nods. “This changes our profit forecast immensely.”

"I want to start with a full equity restructure on the real estate and tech holdings. They’re high priority." I lean forward, elbows on the table. "We can work on everything else after."

“Sounds good to me,” Richard agrees.

We continue with a quick review of the company financials and regulatory filings, then we wrap things up, ready to meet Geneive Hargrove within the next hour.

"Dorian," Dad says, lifting his chin toward me. "Stay a moment."

“Sure.” I close the folder.

“See you both in the meeting,” Richard says, then heads out, leaving us alone.