Forgotten Promise (Forgotten Series Book 2) (21 page)

Chapter Twenty-Eight

 

~Bryer~

 

 

Two hours without a
word as we sit in first class. Cash has yet to utter one damn word. I don’t
know what game he’s playing but there’s always one when it comes to Cash. I watch
him drink his glass of champagne yet, the silence is consuming me.

I feel like a woman
in way over her head. Drowning here. And the only one here to save me is the
one causing me to drown. “I’m still confused Cash, why the hell am I here?”
Looking over to meet his eyes for the first time.

“I don’t recall you
being such a potty-mouth, Briar. I told you, business. We’re fine…”

“That just shows how
much you don’t know me, and that’s a bullshit answer and you know it.”

“Bryer, when a man
says they’re fine, they actually mean it.” He is able to ruffle my feathers,
but that doesn’t mean I have to show it. I know him, there’s not an ounce of
honesty running through those cold veins. I can feel the hopelessness in my
very core. What the fuck did I do? Shame washes over me, knowing I lied to the
one man I love, and I’m here with the one man I don’t trust. “That’s not an
answer, Cash.” My eyes flashing in fury.

“All in due time,
Bryer.” The smugness dripping off him like liquid.

On the verge of
committing justifiable homicide. “Cash, one last time, this is strictly
business. Are we clear?”

“Crystal.” Finishing
the last drop of his champagne.

A car is waiting for
us, the driver gathers our luggage and we proceed to the hotel, concerned he
may take me to his home here, but we check into our separate rooms, although
attached, I breathe a small sigh of relief.

“Meet me for dinner
at 7:00 in the dining room,” he orders. “We will organize our strategy.”

I nod and turn to
leave, not waiting for any assistance, reaching my room, I close the door
behind me, resting my body against it as I take in a deep breath. I’m wound so
tight, I try Nathan’s phone but it goes straight to voicemail, leaving a
message I arrived safely.

Reckless behavior
gambling with the most important thing in my life, trust. Without a doubt, this
has to be the stupidest thing I’ve ever done. I try Nathan once more before
meeting Cash, straight to voicemail, he must be out with Clayton. I turn my
phone off, for many reasons.

I see Cash before he
sees me. He’s looking at his phone then takes a long pull from his beer. How he
has the power to cloud my judgement still mystifies me.

“You’re cute when
you’re angry,” he says, looking up at me.

“Then I must be Miss
America.” Huffing out an angry breath. “Pushing my buttons already, Cash?”

“Or maybe you want to
seem tougher than you really are.” He suggests, unable to fight his smile.

“No, this is pretty
real, you are a train wreck ready to happen.”

“Sit, Bryer.” As a
glass of white wine is set on the table.

“Somethings never
change,” I say, taking the seat, ignoring how I feel about the order just
given.

“Agreed.” Never
wavering from his intense stare, his amber eyes shrewd as always.

He pulls out a file
from his monogrammed croc attaché case, and sets it between us, sliding it in
front of me.

I open the file and
there is a color presentation along with several thumb drives. The images are
my own work-out clothing line I designed prior to Cash acquiring the company.
It’s still doing well, but the presentation cover says Niemen Marcus Group with
all their contact information. I’m speechless, and amazed that this is really a
legitimate business prospect that could be an opportunity of a lifetime.

“Impressed?” His
cockiness knowing no bounds.

“You’re
unpredictable, I’ll give you that.”

“It’s cut-throat
competition, Bryer, we need to go in guns blazing.”

“It’s a compelling
opportunity,” I say, noticing he’s looking very pleased with himself.

“I’ll take that as a
compliment, Bryer.” Raising a brow.

“And you kept this a
secret because?” I let that hang in the air.

“It wasn’t concrete
‘til this morning. We have an appointment at nine am tomorrow. I have a copy
for you too. Study it tonight I need you to be solid on this, assertively sell
this product and the company itself, but, Bryer, most of all, I need you to
sell yourself, your knowledge, your expertise. Your confidence is what will
make this deal, or not.”

After a long time of
cautiously looking into his back-stabbing eyes, I take a long breath, beating
down the doubt that usually follows Cash like a shadow.

“Hungry?” he asks.

Switching gears like
he’s driving a car, and I’m the car. “Fine.” Feeling as if I’m crossing
imaginary boundaries, by sharing a meal. I overlook turning my phone back on
when I came back to the room exhausted. The next morning I text Nathan. Playing
phone tag with each other will not go over well I’m afraid.

Heading in for an
early meeting, love you, miss you talk soon. Hoping the text will soothe all
the missed calls between us.

The conflicted
feeling too raw to dissect at this minute, but lying to him is eating away at
me, I have to figure out a way to tell him without Cash knowing. Cash told me
this trip was business, and something about the paperwork that I know I could
have, should have, signed back home. He’s lying. The scary part is if you are
around Cash, it’s easy to become a liar yourself.

I watch Cash
straighten his tie before walking into the office of several buyers from Niemen
Marcus, they all stand. Cash with his dramatic flair leading the show as
always. Two men and one woman, guess which one Cash just caught his attention.
I offer a comforting smile, shaking everyone’s hands and taking a seat next to
where I assume Cash will be seated. But no, he’s next to the only other woman
in the room. I watch as she drinks him in. There should be a cross and bones
label on his chest, poison. I watch as he opens his expensive brief case.

“Allow me to offer
you each an I-Pad for your convenience. Please tap on app called presentation.”
The men each take theirs, a slight raise of the eyebrows showing how impressed
they are. Cash personally sets the third on the table by his catch of the day.

“I’d like to
introduce Bryer who is the designer and our production manager for this line. I
think it’s only fitting to have her present the specialty line that has
exceeded all our expectations,” Cash says to the table.

Allowing me to make
the pitch. I push the frantic thoughts away and go to the zone. “What a rush,”
I say, walking out of the office with an order big enough to trump all last
year’s sales. I feel his arrogance vibrating off him, with her phone number
shoved in his pocket.

“I’ll be closing the
deal tonight,” he brags.

“It’s beyond me how
men operate, especially you, Cash.”

“We’re actually quite
simple.” Leaving it at that.

“It’s complicated,
Cash,” I disagree. “Everything about you is complicated.” Walking just a step
faster, looking over my shoulder to meet his smirk. He’s so fucking obnoxious.

“We have one more
stop. I have dinner plans with Carla, so we need to be quick.” I should call
her and warn her, danger! Mention what a creep he is. Who knows, maybe she
doesn’t care. He’ll be gone after their one night together, she has to know
that. I just hope his actions won’t jeopardize the deal. “What are we going
now, Cash?” As we slip into the black limo he has waiting for us.

“My office, you
didn’t sign off on the paperwork at all, not to mention having it notarized,
and witnessed. Mrs. Ferguson is meeting us there to help.”

He’s playing coy he
knows how much she means to me, we helped each other over the years when I was
employed there. “Mrs. Ferguson is still there? She was of mature age when I
worked there and surprised she is still there. “It will be so good to see her.”

The office still
looks the same, smells the same, and I’m catapulted back in time as I step
through the glass doors. Memories both good and bad flickering through my mind.

“Bryer, is it really
you, hun?”

And small tender arms
are wrapping around me, her warmth soothing me, as I break away her gaze
is  glued to mine in question. “Mrs. Ferguson.”

“Call me Dottie, when
have we ever been so formal?”

“Yes, how are you,
and your family?”

Her shoulders slump
and her head slowly lowers.

I’m ill at ease with
what’s about to be said.

“I lost my husband
George several months back. We almost made it to twenty-five years, dear.”

Her invincible
loyalty raw with emotion, her brave mask revealed, I offer a reassuring smile,
but I know it will never be enough. “I’m so sorry.” Remembering there are no
words of comfort, no matter how many
sorrys
I received my mother was
gone, she was never coming back. I’m sure she feels the same, and gracefully
accepts my inadequate words.

“But the kids are
doing well,” she says, and a small smile genuine appears.

“I’m glad you have
them, family is important.” She knows my story so no explanation is needed.

“I’m actually surprised
to see you still here?” I say, occurring to me it may be a necessity.

“It fills my days,
Bryer, gives me purpose.”

I nod in
understanding.

“Thank you for
helping us on such short notice, Mrs. Ferguson,” Cash says. “Shall we work in
the conference room?”

“Yes that’s where I
have us set up.” She turns and we follow.

As I sit, I see one
file sitting on the table with her stamp and book and several pens. Nothing out
of the ordinary.

“Bryer, you’re
welcome to go over the paperwork, but you personally have read docs like this a
thousand times, I just need to witness several and others notarize,” she
instructs.

“Of course, Mrs.
Ferguson, ah Dottie.” Welcoming her lopsided grin. “Dottie, I remember.” I
correct.

“I don’t recall you
allowing me that curtesy.” Cash jokes.

“That’s correct,
Cash.” They share a smile, but she doesn’t offer the first name opportunity.

I open the file and
notice the familiar paperwork, and start to sign. It’s just a release of
property, I’ve seen this too many times to count. I skim over the first pages,
it seems unnecessary. I would like to get this over with as soon as possible.

I can’t focus, being
here with Cash, too close, way too close. Causing me to feel a deep sense of
betrayal, I feel sick but I expel a breath, willing the feeling away. 
“How did you lose George?” I ask while signing lifting the corner of each doc
and quickly signing where the little yellow arrow points to.

“Cancer, dear, it was
a long drawn-out nightmare.” She’s overcome with emotion.

I immediately regret
bringing it up. “I shouldn’t have said anything,” I say. Sliding the papers
over to her to complete her task.

“It’s alright, it’s
not like he’s far from my thoughts, I don’t need much to trigger a few tears.”

As I watch a tear
drop on one of the docs she is finalizing. “I understand, Dottie, when I lost
my mom I cried every day for a year.” She nods in understanding, while I see
her absently doing her job, attempting to rein in her feelings. “Grand kids?” I
smile.

“Three now, Bryer.”
And instantly her mood lifts and she pushes the file aside.

I see Cash grab it
and walk out of the room.

“I’ll make copies,
five minutes,” he says

“Mr. Warmth,” I
whisper to Dottie.

She smiles her
all-knowing look. “I have a few pictures on my phone.” She offers.

“I would love to see
them.” As I watch her pull her phone out of her pocket and scroll down to find
just the right one. “Beautiful, Dottie, you should be so proud.” Sincerely
happy she has someone.

“They save me daily,
Bryer.”

I nod in
understanding.

“Time to go.” Cash
peeks his head in.

I could strangle him,
he’s so insensitive. “It was so nice to see you again, Dottie.” We embrace
again. Saying our goodbyes, we head back to the hotel. I’m so happy I brought
my mother’s journal because after that I need to be close to her words again.

I try Nathan again
once we reach the hotel, no answer. And every fiber in my being is derailed
with worry. It’s so unlike us to go this long without checking in. Not that I’m
eager to continue the lie I’ve spun, but it eats at me from the inside out, I
need to hear his voice.

“See you tomorrow for
the flight.”

And with that Cash is
off to deceive some poor unsuspecting victim. I’m just glad he’s turning his
attention elsewhere. And walk towards the dining room where I enjoy a quiet
dinner alone.

Reaching my room,
changing into something casual I destress, pick up my mother’s journal and find
my place.

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