Sleep totally eluded me.
After my fourth cup of coffee—possibly the fifth, but by then it was all haze—I lost track of how many cups I had consumed. I hardly noticed the liquid's sharp bitterness anymore. Even though I felt the heat of the liquid seeping into my skin and my fists were clenched around the ceramic mug with an almost unbearable grip, nothing could ease or defrost the heavy, frozen weight that was still clogging up my chest.
In my mind, I could hear my father's voice repeatedly, in a never-ending cycle, repeating itself with a haunting regularity.
"Just wanted to check on you.".
A call that might be deemed fairly routine. It was a father trying to reach his son. That was the way it ought to have been.
But that was not to be.
Not after having lived through years of silence. Not after having endured everything that has happened.
The options had gotten under my skin, refusing to let me sleep long after the city outside my window had quieted down. My apartment—penthouse-level security, top floor, a fortress above the skyline—seemed cramped. Stifling.
Both Nathan and Adrian had sensed the peculiar and inappropriate occurrence of events that was transpiring around them.
Adrian had been more direct. "You look terrible. What's wrong with you?"
Nathan had been far more subtle in his actions. There was a lingering stare that said it all. He would attempt a half-joke that failed to cross the threshold of humour. It was the sort of concern that he tried to conceal beneath a veneer of sarcasm, and miserably failed at the attempt.
I did not tell them anything whatsoever.
Not because they lack faith in their capabilities or motives.
But the reason behind that is that I would not allow myself to commit the same error again.
I had already gone through the heartbreaking experience of losing one of my parents. If the syndicate would know that I still had concerns and affection for the other parent… the weight would be too heavy to carry, and I really would not be able to live with myself if I would have to experience the same heartbreaking tragedy once again, just like they did before.
No, my dad firmly decided to stay out of this affair. Although it was causing me so much pain and grief to stay away from what was occurring.
As the initial light of day crept painfully onto the horizon, I was a ghost, a presence moving through the world but not really there. I had barely shifted position from my desk, my head stuck in a recurring cycle of what ifs that would not release me, coupled with a whirlpool of memories I tried desperately to bury deep in my mind.
I felt I wanted to completely cancel all my activities and appointments for the day—to basically lock myself up within the four walls of my apartment and take the time to carefully consider and think about what in the world I was to do next in this situation.
But Adrian was not going to stand for it.
"You are definitely going," he said to me brusquely, his arms folded across his chest as he stood in front of my office door to block my way. "This is a million-dollar deal, Lorenzo. You quite simply do not have the right to bail out because you look like you've lost a war with your insomnia."
I narrowed my eyes, scowling at him. "I want you to back off and leave me alone, Adrian."
He did not budge. "Not going to happen."
Nathan, who was standing off to the side, did the smart thing and stayed out of it. He had already attempted to reason with me and, as it turned out, was unsuccessful in his efforts.
"I can reschedule it," I grumbled.
"No, absolutely not." Adrian's raised eyebrow spoke volumes of incredulity. "Or, in other words, you simply won't be in a position to do so. You see, have you ever stopped to think about what it looks like when the CEO of Hudson Security suddenly decides to back out of a major deal in the eleventh hour? It looks pretty shady, doesn't it? And at this point, I think we are both quite aware that you simply don't need any more scrutiny pointed in your direction."
He was correct in his judgment. But that did not by any means imply that I had any attachment to it.
I gritted my teeth. "Fine.".
Adrian grinned as if he'd accomplished something and stepped aside. "That's what I thought.".
The meeting was at a private lounge, minimalist decor and pricey whiskey. I barely gave it any notice.
I was physically at the location, but mentally I was completely elsewhere.
Every single courteous smile, every single well-thought-out conversation—it all blended together, becoming indistinguishable from each other, like a cacophony of background din that overwhelmed the incessant thoughts that were tearing and gnawing at the interior of my head.
Sofie 's pendant.
Reina.
The gang.
Mother.
And, above all else, there is my father.
Each time I attempted to force it down, it kept rising back up. The agony. The shame. The unresolved questions.
"You no longer answer my calls.".
I clenched my teeth together, holding the glass I was drinking from too tightly.
Why now?
Why now after all these years?
A father did not simply call unexpectedly after having been silent for so long and absent in communication. This sudden contact would only happen if something important had changed in his life. It would only happen if there were good reasons for it.
Might it have something to do with the syndicate? Might it be that someone had threatened him?
Or perhaps something even worse?
Was he ill? Was he—
"Mr. Hudson?"
I blinked.
The room slowly came back into view, realigned with my shifting perspective. I saw that the other men seated around the table were gazing at me with an expectation.
Shit.
From across the room, Adrian glared at me with a cold and piercing look, as though he knew precisely the specific thoughts that had drifted out of my focus.
I pushed a polite smile. "Sorry. You were saying?
The conversation went on and on, but the feeling of unease which had come to be lodged in my chest didn't abate.
Something was wrong. I simply did not know what yet.