Chapter 57 Bronson

Me: I need you to track down Nikki.
Rand: Got it
Me: And Rand?
Rand: Sir?
Me: If she is upset, and no longer wishes to come back home…. I will understand.
Rand: Yes Sir.
Blowing out a necessary deep breath, I place my phone down and stare at the crackling of the fireplace. The orange and red flames carry over like waves through a surfer’s board.
I take another pull of my bourbon and rub my temples when the damning headache returns with a powerful thud. Sitting up to place my glass down on the small coffee table, I groan when I feel the pain of sitting in this chair for over three hours resonate through my back.
It has been hours since Nikki has left, and Mr. Gilsh has made me aware. Hours of wondering if she has chosen to leave this place and go back to her original home with the criminals, she calls the Bandits. I haven’t slept. I cannot, not when I know she isn’t safe, safe here, in this building. Down the hall from me.
A door closes from the front of the penthouse and I sit up, noticing it’s well past three in the morning. I must have dozed off and when I sit up, the pain in my back being heightened is proof of that.
Nikki stops at the threshold of the study I am currently in and locks gazes with me. She is dressed the same as she was, only her cheeks are rosy, and her eyes are glassy. She’s been crying. Most likely because of me. I want to go to her, pull her into my arms and tell her how sorry I am, beg her to forgive me.
Instead, I stand there and watch her as she lowers her gaze then begins walking upstairs. I do not want her angry with me, I don’t wish to push her away, so like an idiot, I allow my feet to push me forward and walk alongside her upstairs and into her room. She doesn’t look surprised by this, and given by her eyes still down casted, I can tell she is still upset about finding out about Cassandra the way that she did.
“We need to talk.” I state and shut her door quietly.
“Aren’t you worried your fiancé will find us? Not the best circumstance to explain.” He has a point, but I couldn’t care about Cassandra’s feelings. Not in this moment. Besides with as much sleeping pills as she takes nightly, a comet hitting our bedroom would not wake her.
“Nikki, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you who she was.”
“Or that she existed?” She says sarcastically and sits on the bed letting her head lower even further.
What I would give to be able to see her eyes.
“Yes, or that she existed.”
“It’s fine Bronson. You’re not entitled to give me your life story. I thought we were friends but apparently, even that can’t work.”
“You’re wrong.” Sitting beside her, I grab her hands and wait for her to look my way. I hate the sadness I have put into her eyes. When I first met Nikki, she was rude, sarcastic, and funny. I feel as though I have drained that all from her. Like I have stolen who she is.
“Am I?”
“Yes. Nikki, I may have been dishonest, and I will regret that for the rest of my life, but you and I grew close on that trip. Me being with someone, marrying someone, won’t change that. This is your home; your job is waiting for you in a few days. No matter what happened tonight, none of that changes.”
She studies me for some time, then shifts and removes her hands from mine. I deserve that and more.
“Thank you, Bronson. Now if you don’t mind, I’m pretty beat. Would you mind if I got some sleep?” I stand and nod my head, going right for the door to her bedroom. I turn just before I cross the threshold only to see her watching me with tears in her eyes.
“Tell me, where did you go earlier?”
She looks almost shocked by the news of my knowing she left earlier. Whatever crosses through her mind, she shakes it off and plasters on an evil mustered sorrowful look of anger. “Do you really think that it’s any of your business?”
“No, but that will never stop me from worrying about you.”
“I’m not yours to worry about Bronson. Save that for your fiancé.” She sneers, standing up and shutting her bedroom door in my face. With a huff of my breath, I walk slowly back towards my bedroom.
Cassandra is in the same position I left her in not hours before. Again, I find myself comparing the two women in my life to each other. While one of them represents who I am supposed to be, and the image I have worked hard to convey to the outside world. The other represents every fiber of my feelings. Everything I never knew existed. Everything I want.
Rubbing my face with my palms, I throw off my clothing and lay in my bed, letting the world spin slowly around me with another restless sleep.