Sweet Dreams (A Sugar Rush Novel) (36 page)

“I’m scared to go,” she admitted. “But seeing how brave you’ve been for ten years makes me think I can be that way too.”

Hannah looked almost startled. “You think I’m brave?”

“Of course. To travel the way you do, for as long as you have? That takes tremendous courage. I’ve always envied that about you.”

Hannah looked at her for a moment, disbelief shadowing her eyes. “It doesn’t take courage to get on a train and leave. It takes courage to stay and help your mother even though you know she might not get better. It takes courage to try and save a failing business. To
believe
the way that you do.”

Tears stung the backs of Polly’s eyes. “Then please do this for me, Hannah. I just need a chance.”

Hannah reached out and squeezed Polly’s arm.

“All right, Polliwog. It’s your turn to go.”

“WHERE’S THE FUCKING BUDGET REPORT?”
Luke snapped.

And what the fuck was wrong with everyone? Why couldn’t they do their fucking work and get him the fucking paperwork on fucking time?

“Sir, you just asked Roger for it two hours ago,” Kate said, looking so implacably unmoved that Luke was all the more annoyed. “I’m certain he’s working on it.”

“What’s taking him so long?”

“He’s running the numbers as we speak.”

Luke shoved away from the desk, his fists clenching. Why did his executive assistant look so calm when there was a volcano roaring inside him, scorching his veins with lava and burning him to the core? Why were people acting as if nothing was wrong, as if the world hadn’t fallen off its axis? Why the fuck was the sun still rising every morning?

Everything should have damn well stopped the second Polly Lockhart walked out of his life. No.
Flew
out of his life, on the way to live her dream in Paris.

She’d been gone by the time he returned from Switzerland. He’d gone straight back to work. Because what else was there?

“I’ll call Roger and get you an ETA.” Kate strode to the door. “Will there be anything else?”

“Yes. Get me a coffee.”

“You don’t drink coffee, sir.”

“I do now. Black. Not one of those fancy au laits or whatever. Nothing
French.
”

“Yes, sir.” Kate pulled open the door and tossed him a glance over her shoulder. “By the way, I forgot to tell you your aunt is on her way up.”

Luke ground his teeth together and shot Kate a glare that could have sliced metal.

“You forgot, huh?” he snapped.

Kate blinked, somehow managing to look innocent despite her severe, scraped-back hairstyle and crisp black suit. “It completely slipped my mind, Mr. Stone.”

“See that things don’t slip your mind again,” he gritted.

“Yes, sir.”

He could have sworn she muttered something under her breath as she stepped outside. He heard her talking to Julia, and before he could get to the door and lock it, his aunt entered his office.

“I hear you’re terrorizing everyone from here to Timbuktu.” Julia tossed her handbag onto a chair. “And that your employees are working beyond overtime to get shit done for you.”

“I pay them well to do their work,” Luke retorted. “What are you doing here?”

“Someone has to tell you you’re being an asshole, and everyone else is too scared to confront you,” she replied bluntly. “Not to mention that I’ve gotten half a dozen calls about your association with the inventor of the Declair.”

She took out her phone and scrolled through it before turning the screen toward him. Luke took the phone, his chest twisting as he stared at the photo of him and Polly sitting beside each other at the museum exhibition dinner. Although the photo was grainy and dark, his girl glowed with an iridescent, inner light.

He handed the phone back to his aunt. “There’s no association. She’s gone.”

Polly had been gone for exactly two weeks and three days. Wild Child was still selling plenty of Declairs to the customers lined up outside every morning, and they had launched online orders through their website. According to Julia, Clementine had delayed her move to help Hannah settle in, and Polly’s friends Mia, Tom, and Ramona were all now working at Wild Child. Everyone had rallied to help Polly fulfill her dream of going to Paris.

Everyone except him.

“She rented an apartment in the 6
th
arrondissement,” Julia remarked. “In a building that used to be an artist’s atelier. Her classes haven’t started yet, but she’s met her instructors and is enrolled in French lessons.”

Luke glowered at his aunt. “How do you know all that?”

“We’re texting. And she sent me an email last week.” Julia looked at her phone. “I told her to contact my friend Marie-Laure, who can introduce her to people her own age. Not that Polly will have trouble making friends.”

And having fun. She was probably already having a blast. Hell, she’d probably forgotten about him already. When a young woman went off to live a dream in Paris, why would she give a second thought to the dickhead she left behind?

Luke shrugged into his suit jacket. “I gotta go.”

“Where are you going?” Julia asked.

Anywhere that wasn’t here. Anywhere that he didn’t have to be reminded he would spend the rest of his life in the corporate offices of Sugar Rush.

“Just out.” He grabbed his keys and went to the door.

Kate was still at her desk, and she looked up at him. “Sir, Roger is on his way up with the budget report. Lucy is fetching your coffee right now.”

“Forget the report and the coffee.”

“Excuse me?”

“Go home, Kate. Tell everyone else to do the same.”

Luke headed for the elevator. Outside, it was already getting dark, the faint scent of fall in the air. He got into his car, flexing his hands on the wheel. He couldn’t stand the thought of returning to his “space station” house, so he put the Porsche in gear and headed toward Rainsville. Twenty minutes later, he found himself pulling into the parking lot of the Troll’s House.

He went inside, welcoming the loud music emanating from the jukebox, the after-work crowd of blue-collar men who didn’t care who he was or where he worked. He pulled off his jacket, rolled up his sleeves, and headed for the bar. His gaze narrowed on the stool where Polly had been sitting when he’d turned and seen her watching him. A college-aged kid was sitting there now, and the sight of him in
her
seat scraped Luke’s insides with irritation.

He sat at another barstool and ordered a scotch. The burn of alcohol felt good going down. He reached into his breast pocket and took out Polly’s elephant charm, which he’d been carrying around with him since she left. He stared at the charm, all of her words filtering through his head.

You’re a cardinal sign. Cardinal signs govern the seasons and have the power to change.

There are too many mysteries in the world. Things you can’t explain by science or logic.

Your heart line is deep and clear.

I’ll save you.

Tell me you believe in love.

Promise?

“You want another?” The bartender stopped in front of him.

Luke dropped the charm back into his pocket and looked at his empty glass. “You got something called a birthday cake shot?”

The bartender lifted his eyebrows. “Sure. You want one?”

“Yeah.”

“Is it your birthday?”

“No.”

The bartender shrugged and turned to concoct the shot. He then placed a shotglass frothy with whipped cream and lined with rainbow sprinkles in front of Luke.

“Enjoy,” he said.

Luke stared at the shot. He’d first touched Polly when he’d taken a pink sprinkle off her lip.

“Man, that is the girliest looking drink I’ve ever seen.”

Luke glanced up. Evan slid onto the stool at his right and his father got onto the stool at his left. Tension tightened Luke’s chest. He knew an ambush when he saw one.

“What the hell is it?” Warren nodded at the drink.

“Birthday cake shot.”

Luke lifted the glass to his father in a salute and downed it in one gulp. The sugar rush burned his chest and hit his bloodstream like an explosion. He coughed.

Evan grinned. “Guess you can’t handle the girly stuff, huh?”

“The girly stuff is fucking with my head big time.” Luke thunked the glass back on the bar and pushed off the stool. “Come on.”

They went over to a pool table. Luke racked the balls while Evan and Warren chose their cues. They started playing. For a few minutes, Luke was able to focus on the game, despite the sweet taste in his mouth and the undying thoughts of Polly. He lined up a shot, fired, and missed.

“I got an email from Tyler suggesting we ask the board to address your recent plunge into a dictatorship,” his father said, as they waited for Evan to take a shot.

Given the number of times he’d overridden his COO’s decisions in recent weeks, Luke wasn’t surprised. He was, however, surprised that he didn’t much care.

“Go ahead,” he said.

“Son.”

Luke’s heart sank. His father only called him
son
when things were getting serious.

“Morale is down,” Warren continued. “After you called Tyler out at the board meeting, two VPs have told me this is exactly what happened after the paternity suit. People are even scared to approach you with ideas now. Unless you want another mutiny, you can’t keep doing this.”

“Yeah.” Luke dragged a hand down his face, defeat suddenly spiraling through him. “I know.”

“You need to take some time off,” Warren said.

“I can’t.”

“Go to France.” Evan straightened from a shot that pocketed the orange ball. “See Polly.”

Luke shook his head. “She won’t want to see me.”

“You sure?”

“Even if she did, I can’t leave Sugar Rush.”

“Actually, you can,” Evan said. “You just don’t want to.”

“And it’s time that you did,” Warren added.

“No.”

Evan and Warren exchanged glances. Luke gestured to the bartender to bring them another round of drinks. He hated the fear simmering inside him, the sense that he had no idea what he would be or do without Sugar Rush. He’d spent his adult life working for the company. What else could he do?

“Don’t push me out,” he warned his father and brother. “I saved the damned company, remember?”

“Yeah, we remember,” Evan said. “God knows you remind us often enough.”

Warren clapped a hand on Luke’s shoulder. “I’ll never be able to tell you how much I appreciate everything you’ve done. I know you wanted to fix things, and you have. Net sales are up, North American and international profits have increased, and we’re regaining our market position. You’ve worked damned hard to get those results. But it kills me to see you living your life for the company instead of . . .
living your life.
”

Luke moved to line up a shot. “I’ll take a couple days off next week. Get my head back in the game.”

Evan and Warren were silent.

“What?” Luke snapped. “That’s what you want, right?”

“You need to take a leave of absence, not a couple of days off,” Warren said. “You need to get away from Sugar Rush—and by
get away
, I mean no decisions, no meetings, no agenda. No discussions with anyone in the company about business. You need to let someone else step in as interim CEO.”

“No.” Luke shot his father a glare. “You want to go to the board and force me out? Go ahead.”

“I’m not going to the board,” Warren said. “I’m asking you to step down on your own. And don’t forget you have months of vacation time you still haven’t taken.”

Luke tried to imagine it . . . and couldn’t. Even if he did go after Polly, there was a good chance she’d want nothing to do with him anymore. And then what? He’d come back and spend his days doing nothing?

No, thanks.

“I’m not leaving.” He leaned over to position a shot. “I have to handle the Alpine acquisition. Besides, who’d take over if I left?”

“I would,” Evan said.

Luke went still. Silence roared in his ears, drowning out the raucous noise of talking, laughter, and music.

He straightened slowly. Evan stood on the other side of the table, his expression steady and certain.

“You would,” Luke repeated.