Chapter 3

"James, I'm so happy that you actually came!" The woman sitting in front of us speaks and I feel physical pain in my ears by just listening to her voice.

"Only because of Abigail. You can thank her," I put my hand over Abigail's, gently brushing the knuckles of her small hand.

I talked to her before coming and she agreed to play a girlfriend of mine or whatsoever. I explained to her the taste my father has for women and I think the thought of him hitting on Abigail is what made her agree to play my lover. Plus, I have suspicions that Milena wants something from me.

And who is Milena? It's the twenty-eight second wife of my father. Awfully annoying, over the top egocentric and a huge gold digger. She's quite good looking, there's no doubt. And she knows it. She used her looks and my father's vulnerability to entangle him and marry him. And how old is he? Fifty-four. Yes, she's just a year younger than me. And is supposed to be my stepmother. 

Their marriage is one hell of a mess. She's the daughter of a good friend of his and was barely twenty-one when my father married her. And where's my mother? Laying in the family tomb for over fifteen years. And probably crying over her ruined family. 

"James, you know we're always happy to see you at home," Milena keeps talking nonsense and makes me want to throw up.

"This is not 'a home' anymore for a long long time," I grumble annoyed at Milena for calling this a home. This is a disaster, chaos, something sick and twisted. Anything but a home.

The tension is so thick that it's even hard to breathe. I'm on the edge of storming out of here. And now I'm pretty sure Abigail realises why I didn't want to come.

"Oh please, we can be a family again."

"Don't even go there!"

"Okay, this dinner took a wrong direction, soo... Let's start again, can we?" Abigail interferes. I feel how awkward she is as she's now squeezing my hand so hard.

"Oh look, the little miss can speak. Did someone ask you for your opinion, though?"

"Don't talk to her like that!" I answer instinctively, not faking it like I'm supposed to do. Milena always felt threatened when there's another woman in the room.

"And who exactly is she, hm? Tell me, James. Did you find her in the dumpster? The girl has no taste. With this wrinkled cheap dress... She's clearly with you for the money, James!" For a moment I only giggle at Milena's finishing move. Trying to belittle others. Little did she know Abigail is probably even richer than we'll ever be.

Then I try to put Milena in her place. I won't accept her insulting Abigail, but instead, she decides to speak for herself.

"No, James... Leave it to me. First of all, the dress is from the summer collection of Tim Taylor if you want to know. And second,--"

"Honey, I know a designer's clothing when I see one. And this is not one. Judging by your cheap look, I know you're shopping from some thrift shop."

Abigail lets go of my hand and takes her phone from her little handbag.

"See for yourself! I don't have to be dressed like a cheap hoe to show my wealth."

Oh, how much I love Milena's face right now. With jaw dropped to the floor while she stares at the phone that Abigail shoves in her bitch's face. 

"My bank account," Abigail whispers to me and giggles. I don't know how big it is, but judging by Milena's facial expression, it's huge enough to shut her mouth.

"Who the fuck are you?!" She shouts in... surprise? 

"Love, this is Abigail K..." My father finally decides to speak. Kinda late if you ask me. He didn't peel a word the whole night.

"Abigail Kingsley. Maybe you have heard of Kingsley resort." But instead, Abigail chooses to take the word from him.

"K-Kingsley resort? O-M-G! We have been there! Do you remember, James? It's where you proposed to Leyla last year!"

"Where you did what?!"

Suddenly the air feels too heavy. I can't take a proper breath. Abigail looks at me, face cold like a stone. Unreadable. I don't know what goes on in her mind. Is she angry? Or surprised? Does the possibility of me being engaged bothers her in any kind? I don't know. She just stares at me for a while. Then she finally speaks.

"James, are you engaged?"

I don't know why it'll matter if I am or not. She rejected me. I briefly know her opinion on cheating and maybe that's what bothers her. I tried to kiss her after all.

"Abigail, this is not a talk for here."

"Just answer me," she insists.

"Please, let's go outside. I'll explain to you."

"Answer me!"

I sigh and look at Milena for a moment. Her face is curved in a wide and complacent smile. Satisfied with the possible problem she believes she has caused. After all, I presented Abigail as my girlfriend.

Then from the corner of my eyes, I see my father with head in hands. He feels... bad? Awkward? Or sorry for us? I don't know. All I know is he should've tamed his wife, instead of leaving her to attack Abigail.

"No, I'm not," I look at the two deep oceans on Abigail's face and sigh. Then I feel she relaxes a bit, after hearing this.

"James, I- I want to leave."

Finally. I don't know if we've been here for even an hour. It feels like a whole eternity, but I know it didn't last for over an hour.

I get up and offer a hand to Abigail, she takes it and doesn't let off it, instead, she holds it tight.

"I hope you're happy," I point a finger at Milena, I'm unable to hide my irritation anymore. "And father, please reconsider your priorities."

And not leaving a chance for them to speak, we leave. I hear them arguing about something, but I don't care.

                          ***

I open the door for Abigail and let her slide inside the car. Then I get inside too and tell the hotel's address to the driver. And why are we staying in a hotel? Because I don't live in this house for quite a long time. Instead, I basically live in the distillery. I've rebuilt one of the smaller storehouses into an office in the front and a little house behind it. I have everything there, so why living in this hellhole? But I don't want to scare Abigail away. So instead, we'll stay in a hotel.

We ride to the location, it's around thirty minutes to there and half the time we stay in silence. Abigail stares outside the window. The flashing lights are illumining her face and I can see how exhausted she is. And probably regretting coming here. I can barely hold to not scream "I told you so" in her face.

"Abigail, please. Say something."

I don't know what she thinks about it. Does she regret coming here with me? Does she regret agreeing to eventually working with me? I wouldn't be surprised if she does. Neither I'll get mad about it. In fact, I'll perfectly understand her. First I fucked up everything by trying to do something with her. Then I got angry at her for rejecting me. If you ask me, that's enough reason for her to want to leave and never hear of me again. But she stayed. And met my failure of a family. It actually shouldn't be a reason for her to back up. We're supposed to do business and my fucked up family or my... desire for her shouldn't be an obstacle. But if she decides to reject my business offer, I will understand her.

Abigail takes another minute to just sit in silence and emotionlessly stare outside at the empty streets.

"Please, Abigail. Speak to me."

"Just... don't. I have nothing to say. I'm tired."

"You see what I was talking about? I told you it'll be a disaster."

"No. Actually, you made it sound like your father is the villain. And he's not."

"Don't go there, please."

"No, no. You said what you had to say about him, now I'll speak. You made Dallas sound like he's the devil himself. You presented him in such a bad light, I expected the worst to come from him. But it didn't. You barely mentioned that woman and she was the reason for this dinner to be a disaster. I don't get it, James. Why do you hate on your father so hard? You can't see what you have!"

I listen to her and the blood is back to my ears, pumping so loud it mutes her bullshit. She clearly has no idea what she's speaking and that just pushes me to the edge.

"Shut up! Don't talk about my father like you know him! You don't know even half of it!"

"Then tell me, James. Come on. Tell me! Tell me why the fuck you refuse to accept what you have!? You have a father that obviously cares about you! And I don't know where your mother is and if it was me in your place, I believe I would've been like you. And I'm sorry it's like this, but you have no right to treat the poor man like this!"

"My mother is in the fucking grave! So shut the hell up and stop talking like you know what you're talking about because you don't! Just shut the fuck up!"

That's it. She pulled the last straw. I shout at her, not allowing her to keep talking because I will not listen to this nonsense! I'm furious. She stepped a line and I'm this close to losing my shit. My clenched jaw starts to hurt and I'm pretty sure my fuming is scaring her.

For a moment she just sits there, looking me in the eyes, probably trying to figure out what to say or how to read me. Then she just turns her head back to the window and says nothing. Thank God she listens to me and shut her mouth because I don't know how much more of this shitty day I can handle.

"Mr Reagan, we're here," my driver interrupts the silence, but it seems like neither I nor Abigail hears him.

"Drive me back to the airport," she only sighs, after probably another minute of complete silence.

"Fine."

And with no other word being said the driver starts the engine again and drives back to the airport.

                              ***

"Will someone wait for you in Miami?" I ask her, now a little calmer. I realise it'll be around midnight when she lands there.

We just stand in front of the airplane and Abigail is trying hard to board on the jet, but I stop her every time she faces the stairs.

"My bodyguard will be there."

"Abigail, I--"

I whisper as I take a step closer and reach my hand for hers. But she steps back.

"Don't touch me, James. Just... don't."

And I back up. I completely and utterly fucked up everything.

"Can you call me when you land?"

"Sure. Goodbye, James." And she walks away, boarding on the plane and hiding from my sight.

"Goodbye," I repeat her words in my head as I walk away. "Goodbye." She makes it sound like it's the last time we see each other. Ah, I screwed everything up.

I get back in the car and order to stay and wait for the plane to take off. And while I'm waiting, there's this nagging feeling in my gut and I can't help it. Everything I've told her through the whole day passes through my mind and the numb feeling of regret strikes me. Fuck, I'm such an idiot.

                            ***

Back in my dark office I pour myself a glass of whiskey and swirl the drink inside it. I lost such an opportunity.

"That's what you get for thinking with the wrong head." I swear I can hear my mother talking to me. Mom... I miss you so much. A single tear escapes my eye.

Fuck. I fastly swipe it and drink the whiskey in one breath. Such a great approach I have. Idiot.

I startle from the alarm I set for 1 AM. It's exactly midnight in Miami and Abigail should be landing anytime now, if not already landed. I stretch my legs and neck, I've fallen asleep on the desk. I go to the little kitchen in search of something to drink. My throat is burning as if I have never drunk water.

And then my phone rings! It's Andrea, letting me know they've just landed. I wait for another half an hour for Abigail to call, but she doesn't do so. Well, I guess there's no point in waiting anymore.

I undress and dive into my bed, face buried in the feather pillows. 

I guess I should check for other possible business partners. I fall asleep with the only idea of finding a way to get to the so wanted award. "Whiskey producer No.1"

                          ***

Half of my Thursday passes in calls and online meetings. I wake up and start calling. I am determined to start selling inside the States and will do everything to achieve it. But so far I have almost zero success. People gently tell me to get lost. I lost the number of times I've heard "We'll think about it" ; "I have to talk it through with the board" and "I don't think it'll work out". I called what I believe to be every club, restaurant and hotel across the States. Nothing. Only one newly opened club in New York agreed to give me a chance. Hell, Abigail was my golden shot. I contemplate calling her, but then I drop off the idea. I won't bother her.

I spend another hour or two calling and the result is the same. Fuck you all! You have no idea what you're losing! 

I'm this pissed off at my father, my grandpa and all the men ruling Reagan's whiskey house before me. No one has heard of us because of their beliefs. My grandpa once told me that in the very beginning our name was the most famous one here. Then "John Brandon and sons" came out and took over, making the Reagan man ruling back then to search for alternatives. And the men after him didn't do anything to improve. They just kept working for the same big foreign names. And sure, that worked wonders. There's no person in Europe that doesn't know us. But my ambitions are far bigger than this. Being famous in the outside markets doesn't satisfy me. Maybe it's a too big thing to say, but I want my name to be recognisable everywhere. From the North pole to the South pole.

Everywhere.

I decide to stop the calls for today, before my brain fries from the irradiation. I put pants on and go to my favourite little restaurant for lunch.

                          ***

"Same as always?"

"You know it."

I pay to the boy behind the cash desk and go take my usual seat. Always the same one. The two-seat table, next to the window. 

Almost every day is the same. Or at least for the last year. I do some work before noon, then come here for lunch and dinner. I order the same, I sit in the same seat and leave at the same time. Now I realise I fell into some kind of a routine after Leyla left me. It's like a circle I'm stuck spinning in. 

My phone pings, reminding me I have to sign the papers for this month's exportation to Marseille.

And then I see a message from Abigail.

I hurry to open it and see "Thank you for the little surprise." It's a surprise indeed. I have no clue what is she talking about.

I ask her what does she mean and I get an instant answer.

"What do you mean what? The roses that you just sent me."

I explain I didn't send her a thing and she leaves me on seen. I'm more confused than ever. Why would she thinks I sent her roses? Or more like why would she think it's me?

I take a sip of the cherry juice and stare at the screen. She doesn't answer. And then I notice a missed message. I must've not heard the notification, because it was sent an hour ago. I open it and see the name. Leyla. What does she want now?!

"Hello, James," I read her message but honestly I have no will or strength to deal with her, so I leave her on seen. For a moment I hesitate to message her back, then I stop myself.

I finish my lunch and leave. I need some good training to clear my mind.

                              ***

I pull outside the distillery and notice the pink cabriolet. Fuck, she's here. So much for not wanting to deal with her.

I slowly open the office door, hoping it was my imagination and she is not really there. But here she is. Sitting on top of my desk, dressed in the most provocative red dress I've seen. 

"What are you doing here?" I hiss at Leyla and slam the door behind me.

"Long time no see, sunshine," she flutters her long lashes and bites her lower lip. Damn it, she knows I can't resist that.

"Don't 'sunshine' me. What do you want?" I ask slowly walking to the window, then lean on its frame, turning my back at her so I can't see her. She's playing with my mind. I hear a few clicks with her high heels behind me, then her hot breath brushes the skin of my left ear.

"I wanted to see you."

Her gentle hands slide on my body from behind me, as she leans on my back.

"Don't touch me!" I stiffen, gripping the wooden frame, not willing to give up to her little dirty play. She makes the hair of my neck stand on ends.

"Come on, James. Look at me. I know you've missed me."

"What do you want?!" I raise my voice at her, stiffening under her touch. I'm this close to give up. 

She hugs me and rests her head on my back. Shit, I think I still feel something for her.

"I heard you were here with your new girlfriend."

"And so what?"

"And... I believe she's not the one for you."

I only laugh. I can't believe she's here because of Abigail.

"Then who is the right one? You?" I mockingly try to laugh it off.

"We're meant to be, James."

"Leave," I shortly say. I don't want her anywhere near me. Her presence hurts me. 

"Tut, tut. I know you want me to stay. Your mouth says one, but your body says other."

She snakes her hand under my slacks and grabs my dick. She knows what works best with me. She knows how to please me. How to manipulate me. And she knows damn well what she did to me completely destroyed me. Yet, here she is again.

I take a deep breath and face her, then grab her beautiful face with both hands. I stare at her green eyes. Green used to be my favourite colour. Then she stands on her tiptoes and kisses me. And I give up.

It's stronger than me. I imagined so many times what it'll be when and if I see her again. At first, I knew that if she gives me the chance, I'll do this. I'll kiss her, touch her, make love with her. Then some time passed. And I was becoming more and more embittered. I reached a point where I hated her so much that I was hating myself for that. And then I imagined how I send her to hell if I see her. But now it's been over a year and she's here. Kissing me so passionately. And I give up to her. 

I tried to stop her, I really did. But I can't. She just knows where to touch me and how to do it to switch off my brain. And I just kiss her back. She starts undressing me and kisses that little spot on my neck that drives me nuts. Then she traces her way down on me with her tongue, takes off my boxers and gets me in her hot mouth.

She pushes my buttons and I hate her for that. Hell, I'm both pissed off and pleased. She does a perfect job down on me and I toss my head back, entangling my fingers in her hair, following her rhythm. I close my eyes and for a moment I feel I'm in Heaven. And then one very vivid picture pops up in front of my eyes. How she leaves me. And why she leaves me. With zero regrets. Taking away all the joy from my days. Now I hold her hairs tighter, pulling her head back.

"What's the matter, sunshine?"

"Stop it."

She still holds me in her hand and looks me straight in the eyes. Hell, once this was enough to make me come. But now... Now I'm disgusted. With myself. 

"Come on now, James. Don't stop in the middle of the fun. I'm just starting."

And then she reaches my cock with her tongue again. It barely touches me and for a moment I consider whether I should fuck her one last time. But no. I can't do that! I can't go back to my misery once she leaves.

I pull back her head again and lift her, then she stabs her nails in my back and whispers in my ear.

"Come on, baby. Let's do it. For the good old times. I assure you, you'll forget your new girl."

I clutch her throat and make her step back, now fully conscious and realising in what a shithole I'm falling.

"Listen, you little snake. I know you play this game with Milena, but it won't work. And if you don't leave this instant, I'll file a restraining order."

I realise I'm holding her tighter than I should, pushing her to the desk. I let off her and turn my back at her again. I don't even want to look at her.

"I won't leave things like this, James! You're mine! You were and you will be!"

"Fucking leave! Are you deaf?!" I scream at her and hit the wall behind me. Hell, she knows how to get me out of my skin.

"Fine! But I promise you, in the end, we'll be together!"

She swirls on her heels and slams the door behind her. All I see is a tornado of blonde curls, red fabric and sweet perfume. I lean on the wall behind me before I break down and curse behind her. 

I watch her from the window. She gets in her pink Corvette and then disappears at full speed. I grab a glass and pour myself a whiskey.

"Fuck you! I won't drink because of you!" I shout and throw the glass, breaking it on the door she just left through. "Fuck you..."