The Wolf’s Billionaire by Layla Silver

Chapter 11 – Bastian

“Four days? What the fuck do you mean it’s been four days?” I demanded.

Meredith sighed and shoved an extremely large paper cup with an obnoxious coffee bean pattern printed on it at me. “Here. It’s a breve with as many shots of espresso as they’d let me have. Drink it.”

“I don’t have time for coffee,” I growled, taking the cup anyway and tossing back a giant gulp. It was searingly hot and potently bitter but I was too exhausted to care. “Fuck. I need to—”

“You need to go home and sleep,” Meredith interrupted. “You haven’t gotten more than two hours at a time since you got here.”

“I need to call Ainsley.” I pinched the bridge of my nose and squeezed my eyes shut. “She’s going to be frantic.”

“You’ve said that name at least six times since you got back.” Meredith frowned. “And I haven’t had a chance to ask. Who’s Ainsley?”

“The woman I love,” I answered without thinking. “I’m going to marry her, Meredith—but I just left her hanging when you called. I meant to text her but—”

“But cell phones don’t work in the hospital and you haven’t gotten any further than the bathroom since you got here,” she finished for me. “I know. Look, I’m not going to pretend that you showing up with news of some mystery woman doesn’t concern me, but until you get some sleep and real food and a shower, I’m not going to be entirely convinced you aren’t just hallucinating her.”

“I’m not,” I said sharply. “She’s amazing and you’ll love her.”

“What I would love,” she shot back pointedly, “would be if we could have a conversation about what needs to happen next in some context other than an emergency stand-up meeting huddled in one corner of the waiting room. But that’s not happening until you get some sleep. So come on, let me drive you home.”

I glanced across the hall from my uncomfortable plastic chair to the door that led to my father’s hospital room.

“He’s not going to wake up, Bastian.” Meredith’s voice was soft. “We’ve done all we can for now. Let me take you home.”

Nodding silently, I stood. Every inch of my body hurt from lack of sleep, lack of food, and days of unending tension.

By the time I’d landed in Baltimore, my father had had his first stroke. In the next twelve hours, despite the doctors’ best efforts, he’d had two more. Complications compounded on complications and it seemed as if every time I tried to take two steps away a new alarm went off at his bedside.

Meredith had shouldered most of the business side of things and I’d gladly left the Board of Directors and company operations in her capable hands. Due to some quirk of my father’s living will, all the medical decisions had fallen to me, despite my certainty that he’d rather have had Meredith making them. Food and sleep had become luxuries I had to do without, everything else little more than a distant memory or dream as I stood fast against blow after blow each time the doctors updated me and proposed new options.

But now there were no more options. My father was on life support and he wouldn’t be coming off until we pulled the plug. But there was no hurry on that and plenty of legal and personal reasons to wait. Meredith tucked her arm through mine and guided me out of the hospital. I moved like a zombie, my brain feeling mushy and numb. I let her push me gently into her sleek town-car and drive me home and didn’t even mount a protest when she walked me up to my apartment.

“Shoes,” she prompted when we got inside.

I kicked them off, not caring where they landed. All the blinds in the apartment were down and the darkness was a relief after too long under the harsh fluorescents of the hospital’s halls.

“Get some sleep.” Meredith nudged me toward my bedroom. “I’ll come by in the morning with food, all right?”

I nodded, vaguely aware that I had no idea what time it was—or even what day we were on. It didn’t matter. She was right. I wouldn’t get anywhere without sleep. That had to come first.

“Thanks,” I managed roughly, reaching for her hand. “For everything.”

She gave me a sad smile. “What was it you told me that first weekend after our parents got married? ‘We’re in this together,’ right? That still stands.”

I squeezed her hand, then staggered toward my room, confident that she’d lock up behind her. Collapsing face-first onto my thick mattress, I slept.

***

Something hit my foot. I ignored it.

It happened again, harder this time. I grunted.

“Bastian.”

The sound that came out of me was closer to gravel crunching around in a rolling barrel than actual words.

“I know, you need to sleep for like two more days.”

I placed the voice finally. Meredith.

“But I’ve brought food and you look like storm trash that’s been wallowing in the gutter. You need to shower.”

“Thanks,” I rasped into the comforter. “Make a guy feel good.”

“Yeah, I know.” She prodded my foot again and I was awake enough this time to figure out she was wearing shoes while doing it. “Come on, get up. I’ll be in the kitchen.”

My limbs felt like lead and my eyes were glued mostly shut, so it took some groping to get my hands under me and push myself upright. Pain shot up my sore arms and I groaned. Tottering to the bathroom, I turned the water on full hot, lurched my way through getting my clothes off, and mostly fell into the shower.

Slowly, the hot water seeped through me, easing the tautness in my muscles and steaming the fog from my head. As proper consciousness started to trickle back in, I became aware that my face was bushy with twice as much beard as I usually tolerated and my mouth tasted as if something had crawled down my throat and died there.

Grimacing, I shut the water off, climbed out of the shower, and gave myself a perfunctory once-over with a towel. Then I brushed my teeth ruthlessly, gargled mouthwash, and attacked my face with a razor. When the man in the mirror once again somewhat resembled me, I stalked back into my bedroom to find clothes.

My luggage and camera gear, I realized for the first time, had been delivered at some point while I’d been at the hospital, just as the jet crew had promised. I’d have to deal with that at some point. For now, my stomach rumbled and gnawed with hunger, so I grabbed the first clothes I could find—workout sweats, as it happened—and stuffed myself into them. Then I headed for the kitchen.

The aromas hit me as soon as I crossed the threshold of my bedroom door. I sped up.

Meredith had brought a feast. She’d started a pot of coffee and its rich scent wafted toward me along with the savory smells of bacon, eggs, hash browns, and still-warm bagels, all from my favorite deli nearby.

“You are an angel,” I informed her, snatching up half a bagel and taking a giant bite without pausing to smear either the available cream cheese or lox on it.

“And you look almost human,” she teased, pouring more coffee for herself and pulling down a mug to pour for me, as well.

With my mouth full of bagel, I didn’t answer. Instead, I loaded up a plate with food and carried it to the table, taking a seat beside where her plate already waited. When she joined me, Meredith slid a cup of coffee toward me.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t let you sleep longer, but we have decisions we have to make.”

Swallowing, I said, “first things first. What day is it?”

Her lips pursed in a moue. “Saturday.”

“Fuck.”

“You’re saying that a lot lately.” She took a delicate bite of toast.

“There’s a lot to say it about.”

“I’m not disagreeing but you’re going to have to get a handle on it before you take over as acting CEO.”

“I’m not taking over,” I said definitively.

Her brow furrowed. “I know you didn’t think Malcolm would really leave you the business, but I’ve checked the documents, Bastian. He left it to us both and you know the board—”

“It’s yours,” I interrupted. “Or we’ll sell it. I’m not staying with Spire. I’m starting my own firm.”

“Bastian!” Her eyes blew wide. “Look, I know that you’re stressed, but now isn’t the time—”

“I started making plans before this all happened,” I insisted. “I’m not staying here and I’m not going to do any more work with the firm. I’ve got conflicts of interest now and I’m starting my own business.”

“Conflicts of interest,” she repeated, baffled. “Does this have to do with the woman you were talking about?”

“Yes.”

My heart clenched at the thought of Ainsley and the proper realization that it been days since I’d just disappeared from her life. Gods, she’d be so upset. Without thinking, I was out of my chair, racing to my bedroom for my phone. Tossing my clothing until I found it, I pulled up a new text.

Ainsley, sweetheart. I’m so sorry about how I left. I had a family emergency and have only just gotten cell access back. I’ll call later and explain everything, all right?

I didn’t expect an immediate reply—she was probably working—so when the phone instantly pinged, joy surged. Glancing at the screen, I frowned in puzzlement.

This number is not in service.

Reopening the message, I searched it for clues I’d accidentally done something wrong. No, I confirmed, I’d hit reply to the text she’d sent me about breakfast. That seemed like a lifetime ago now, but it had to be her personal number and I’d done nothing that should have screwed it up.

I tried again and got the same response. Dread curdled in my bones. Ainsley had disconnected her number.

No, I told myself firmly. This was just a mistake. A glitch. Something wrong with the cell provider or local service. She wouldn’t have disconnected her number without sending me her new one.

Unless she didn’t hear from you for days and assumed the worst, my fears prompted. All at once, I remembered Renly Carrington shifting in my hotel room the night before I’d last seen Ainsley.

Fuck my life. He’d have talked to her no doubt. Maybe even the day I left. Of course she could have gotten the wrong impression. From where she was sitting, it had to look terrible—especially if he’d told her everything.

“Bastian?” Meredith appeared in my doorway, both irritated and concerned. “What are you doing?”

“I have to go.” I lunged for my pile of filthy clothes again, scrambling for my wallet. “I need the jet.”

“What?” Meredith flung out a hand. “You can’t go! We have work to do! You haven’t even eaten more than two bites!”

“I’ll eat on the way.”

“The way where?” she fumed.

“To Ainsley.” Finding my wallet, I went to shove it in a pocket and remembered I didn’t have any. Shucking my shirt, I dove for my closet.

“Bastian!” Meredith spun around, putting her back to me as I rapidly changed. “This is madness, stop it.”

“Look, I’ll call you from the jet and explain, all right? But I have to find Ainsley. Now.”

“Find her? You’re going to marry her and you don’t know where she is?”

“It’s complicated.”

“And you’re an asshole. Stay here for two minutes and explain this to me!”

Redressed, my wallet shoved in a pocket, I bussed a kiss on her cheek as I rushed past. “Can’t. I’ll call.”

She yelled after me but I was already out the door and down the hall, adrenaline surging through every cell in my body. I had to make things right with Ainsley before I lost everything.

***

“What do you mean she’s on vacation?”

The front desk clerk stared at me in something that wasn’t quite fear but was decidedly more than just confusion.

“Vacation?” she said again, like I was the idiot. “Like when you take time off from work and go somewhere?”

“Where?” I hissed. “Where did she go?”

The clerk shrugged, then squinted. “Wait, are you that Bastian guy?”

“Yes.” Hope and wariness collided inside of me. “Did she leave a message for me?”

The clerk was abruptly nonplussed. “No, but Mr. Carrington did. He said, and I quote, to get your ass back to Baltimore and leave Ainsley alone.”

“Fuck.”

Spinning away from the desk, I stormed out of the hotel. I’d grabbed the first rental car available at the airport, a sporty little Toyota that would be useless if the weather turned bad, and I glared at it as I slid behind the wheel. I wasn’t sure it was going to be able to handle the terrain but there wasn’t time for anything else now. Shoving it into gear, I floored the gas pedal and roared out of the parking lot and out of town, straight for The Slopes.

***

Finding Renly on site was as easy as corralling the first foreman I found and telling him I needed to see Carrington. He didn’t ask any questions, just barked the relayed message into his walkie-talkie and then told me to wait—Mr. Carrington would come to me. I stalked a short distance away so as not to gum up the construction works or get myself “accidentally” whacked across the head with a two-by-four and knocked into a section of fresh concrete. Then I paced.

The roar of a snowmobile brought my head up. It was the red Polaris. Renly rode directly up to me, swung off, and tossed his goggles on the handlebars.

“You came back,” he said flatly, his eyes hard.

“My father’s on his deathbed,” I snapped back without preamble. “I’ve spent every minute since I left Ainsley at the hospital—which has zero cell service—dealing with one crisis after another. I didn’t even know what day it was until a couple of hours ago. I didn’t mean to hurt Ainsley and I came back to tell her everything but she’s gone. Where is she?”

Renly’s jaw set. “Not here.”

“I fucking know that!” I yelled.

It was dangerous to do this here, on his turf, especially knowing what he was and being in less-than-great shape myself, but I was beyond caring. I needed to make things right. “At least give me her new number so I can explain.”

“No.” He shook his head. “I’ll check out your story and, if it squares, I’ll let her know when she comes back. The decision about whether to give you another chance is hers.”

“But you know I love her!” I snarled. “You know I’m going to leave Baltimore and Spire Investments and start over with her here!”

“What I know,” Renly said, folding his arms across his chest, “is that I told you that lying to the woman you love has fucking consequences. And instead of telling Ainsley the truth when you had the chance after our conversation, you fucked her instead—and then waltzed the hell out of her life and left her to get blindsided by Kaia and Bianca, both of whom are just as devastated as Ainsley. They’re my pack, Howe. Not you. Not unless Ainsley makes you part of the pack and you blew your shot at that because you couldn’t keep it in your pants long enough to tell her the truth.”

“Aaagghh!” I growled, my hands fisting in my hair in frustration. “Yes, all right? I fucked up. I get it. But don’t tell me you don’t think your wife is so beautiful that you’ve never gotten distracted from what you meant to do. I thought I had time! I was going to explain! None of this was supposed to happen this way and I came as soon as I could. Just give me some way to contact her, to make it right.”

Renly’s face softened fractionally. “I can’t,” he told me, his tone final but tinged with the faintest hint of regret. “We gave Ainsley our word that we wouldn’t. She needs time to heal and regroup. When she comes back, I’ll let her know what you’ve told me and if she wants to contact you she can.”

“But I need to—”

“Howe,” he cut me off. “This is as far as I’m going to bend on this. You’ve said your piece. Now get the fuck off my land before I change my mind about not murdering you for hurting Ainsley.”

Furious and thwarted, I gave a sharp nod and stalked away.

They may not point me in the right direction, I thought as I got back behind the wheel, but they couldn’t keep me from Ainsley. I wasn’t without resources of my own and I’d use every last one of them to find her.