Blake had returned to his office after he left his father’s office with his pulse pumping with anger and guilt. He was mad at Tasha for daring to keep a child away from him for so many years. He felt guilty for betraying her nine years ago.
“Mr. Carter,” Vanessa sprang to her feet the moment he walked into the outer office. “Mr. Hugo, the consultant, is here for your meeting. I already settled him in the E conference room.”
“Cancel it,” he had growled, his voice a low rumble as he was trying very hard to suppress the fury in him. “Cancel all of my meetings and appointments for the rest of the day.”
Vanessa’s brow furrowed. “But Mr. Carter, the consultant…”
He was already walking to his door, he stopped halfway, “And I don’t want to be disturbed by anyone…even you.” His eyes narrowed to let her know how serious he was.
“Yes, Mr. Carter,” Vanessa nodded. She understood better than to argue with him. “I will tell Mr. Hugo that you can’t see him today,” she said, her voice barely a whisper.
“Better.” Blake slammed the door shut, the sound echoing through the quiet office. Vanessa jumped, startled by the force of it, and quickly lowered her sleeve into her seat. She had never seen so much rage in him.
She wondered what the beautiful woman who came in the afternoon did to him. Vanessa only knew he hadn’t been himself since the woman left. She considered going to tell his father, but thought against it. She didn’t want to risk Blake’s wrath.
Blake strode to his desk and squeezed the first item his hand met on his desk in his hand. The pen case, a sleek black rectangle, met the wall with a loud thud. Blake winced, the sound echoing in the otherwise silent office.
Blake picked up the stapler, its metallic weight a strange comfort in his hand. He slammed it against the wall; the impact sending a jolt of adrenaline through him. He panted, and he was about to reach for another item when interpreted him.
“Mr. Carter,” Vanessa’s voice came from the other side of the door. “Are you okay in there?”
He said nothing, but there was a sudden, dramatic shift. A slow, gentle wave washing over him. He took a long breath and sat behind his desk and decided to tackle all the paperwork he had been shifting behind. He needed to distract himself from the pain that threatened to consume him and barely noticed the hours slip away.
It wasn’t until after eight at night when his phone rang he allowed himself to stop. He picked the phone off, looking at the screen. It was Cassie calling him. He allowed it to ring out without answering it.
“Damn it!” He slumped against the back of his seat with exhaustion. He had forgotten that they had a date.
The phone started ringing again. He swiped across the screen.
“Hey, Cassie.” He rasped.
“Blake, I have been expecting your call,” Cassie said. “When is our dinner reservation?”
“Hmmm….,” he stood up and ran his hands through his hair. “I’m sorry, Cassie, let’s make it tomorrow. I am in the middle of something very important now.”
She mewled from the other end. Some other time, her reaction would have elicited a chuckle from him, but not today.
“Tomorrow?”
“Yeah, Cassie.” He said impatiently, “I will call you before noon tomorrow to give you the time.”
“Okay, Blake…”
He quickly cut the line off and dropped the phone back on his desk.
His deep anger had eased. He ran his hand through his hair. The tension and tightness in his chest had also loosened. He was only a cold, hollow feeling in his heart now.
He laughed at himself, remembering how long he begged Stacy for another child, not knowing he had a son somewhere; his heir, for that matter. He stood up and walked to the window, and stared out the window. The city lights a blurry, indifferent backdrop to the state of his mind.
“Eight years,” he murmured to himself. “How could Tasha do this to me?”
He couldn’t believe that she could keep his son away from him for that long. And now, when his son was sick, she wanted him back, wanted him to be a donor, a savior of a son. She never wanted him to be a part of his life.
Blake felt a whirlwind of emotions, but mostly, he felt a deep sense of loss. Tasha had cheated him out of his son’s life.
“But you caused it all.” His conscience pricked him.
He nodded, agreeing with himself. He strolled back to his desk and picked only his phone from his desk and put it in his inner pocket. Blake didn’t want to take anything with him, not even his briefcase and laptop. He stepped out of his office. The fluorescent lights of the hallway felt harsh against his troubled mind. He took the elevator down, his head bowed, the familiar hum of the machinery a hollow echo in his ears.
Jeff came out of the car the moment he saw him coming and opened the car door for him.
“The key, Jeff,” he streamed out his hand to his driver, his voice hoarse from exhaustion.
“The key?” Jeff hesitated, his brow furrowed with concern. He knew Blake was not in the right frame of mind anytime he asked to drive himself. He preferred being alone at such times.
“Let me take you home…” he began. Everything about Blake showed he was hurting.
“Never mind,” he assured him, his voice cracking. “I won’t hurt myself.”
Jeff, unable to resist the desperation in Blake’s eyes, handed over the key.
Blake pulled out a credit card from his inner pocket. “Call a ride to take you home,” he said, and handed the card to Jeff. He then turned and walked towards the driver’s seat. He slid behind the wheel, the leather cool against his skin. The engine roared to life, a guttural growl that seemed to mirror the turmoil within him. He pulled out of the parking lot, the city lights blurring into streaks of color as he sped away. He wasn’t going home, and he had no destination in mind.