beautifully broken(39)

“No, it actually is very necessary. Now that you are aware of our little situation,” he says, letting out a light breath. What situation’s he talking about. Me knowing about Cal’s disorder?

“I think it is important that you understand the resources that you have available to you should you need them.”

“Resources?”

“Your husband. Cal held a very important position with my company and aside from that he is my family and I like to keep things internal, so to speak.” I feel my eyebrows raise. I have no idea what he’s talking about.

“Dr. Clemons,” he says simply and then it resonates—that was the woman that Christopher saw for treatment.

“She won’t be seeing Christopher as a patient anymore. He’s only to see Helen.”

“Excuse me?”

“It is in the best interest of the family which you are now a part of. I trust you understand the sensitivity of information that not everyone can know.”

“I’m sorry, but you can’t be serious? Chris can see whatever doctor he chooses to. This isn’t a matter of your company, this is his life,” I say, completely taken aback at the audacity of the man in front of me.

“Helen is the best in her field and has the best team. He would be in no better hands,” he says simply.

“You can speak to Christopher yourself but I believe that his choice was made for the very reason you want him to see Helen.” He sighs and stands from his desk.

“I apologize, I don’t think you understand. Let me clarify things a little further. Your penthouse on Michigan, is in one of my buildings. The Scott’s farm and house is on my property. The land your Aunt Raven owns could easily be purchased. Your friend Hillary works at a company that is a subsidiary of…well I’m sure you can infer. Just so that you know. My best interest is in your best interest.”

I feel my throat starting to constrict. A chill crawls down my spine. What the hell did Cal do for this man, why would he be blackmailing me?

“I think we have an understanding?” he reiterates.

“Can I go now?”

“You don’t need my permission,” he laughs condescendingly. I stand up and get to the door as fast as possible.

“Oh, and Lauren.” I stop in my tracks but don’t bother to turn around.

“It was a pleasure meeting you.”





chapter 11

Chris





I’ve never been the type to play games. I never had the time to. When Cal started to take over I didn’t really have a choice in enjoying life. I didn’t date, I was too busy being in sessions and trying medications. Everything was put on the back burner: going to college, my music, my dreams. The only thing I wanted was to just be normal, to stop losing time. Then, I didn’t know about Cal, that he was living life for me, doing God knows what. When I found out about Cal and met Lauren it was hard knowing that all of these things were happening to me, but it seemed important to know. I was afraid of knowing but each moment that came back to me I felt a little more connected, I understood him a little more, and I hate it, but what I saw last night didn’t make me feel connected or understand him, I feel disgusted.

He had a man kidnapped. I don’t know what the hell he’s been doing or why. Why was he looking for this Clay guy? Did he find him, and what happened if he did? I feel like I have a lot more to be worried about now than how many women he screwed. What exactly was he involved in?

That’s what drove me here, back to Chicago, waiting for Dex to come out of his building. I had to wait two hours but I soon see him emerge in one of his thousand dollar suits, his phone in his hand.

“Dex!” I call out as I jog to catch up with him. He glances back at me, he looks bored, like seeing me isn’t a surprise.

“What brings you to Chicago?”

“We need to talk,” I say adamantly.

“I have a lot to do today Chris. I don’t have time for the soap opera that is the Scotts' lives,” he chuckles but when I grab him by the arm, this time he does look caught off guard.

“Who is Clay Rice?”

His eyes narrow in on me before he tries to snatch his arm away but I don’t let it go. He needs to see that I’m serious, that this isn’t one of those times for going on and on with his metaphorical diatribes.

“This is a Brioni,” he says condescendingly before pulling away from me and rubbing out the print I left on his suit.

“Is there a problem Mr. Crestfield?” Two big men have appeared behind me. Dexter sighs.

“No problem gentleman. Christopher I have some time to kill before my next meeting if you’d like,” he says, gesturing towards the car he gets into. I get in behind him and once the door is shut he immediately grabs a bottle of scotch and begins to pour himself some.