After getting changed, I head into my study and pour myself three fingers of scotch before sitting down at my desk and waking my computer up. I’m logging in when a picture frame on the corner of my desk catches my eye. I pick it up and stare at it for several seconds, the organ in my chest clenching in pain. The picture is of my parents, taken the day of their twentieth anniversary. Dad surprised her with a vow renewal ceremony and a party afterward. It was a few months before they died, and although a lot of those months were a blur after they passed away, I can still remember that day like it was yesterday, when I asked my dad why they were getting married again.
“Because when you love someone the way I love your mom, you want to show them.”
“But you did show her by marrying her the first time.”
“And today, I’m going to show her all over again.” He waggles his brows, and I fake gag at the thought of my dad showing my mom how much he loves her. My parents have always been affectionate with each other for as long as I can remember.
There’s a knock on the door and Frank pokes his head in. “The priest is ready for you.”
“Thank you,” Dad says with a smile on his face. “Let’s go, Son.” Dad pats my shoulder tenderly. “I have a woman to marry… again.”
I glance over at the calendar. The anniversary of my parents’ death is coming up next week. They would’ve been married for thirty-seven years. As much as I hate that I lost both of them at the same time, there’s something tragically romantic about the fact they died together.
My father used to tell me on several occasions when my mom was sick, he couldn’t imagine living without her. When shit was bad and we weren’t sure if she was going to make it, a few times I wondered if he would find a way to take his own life.
I think about my conversation with my dad that day. I’ve dated plenty of women, but not one of them made me want to marry them once, let alone twice. And while I’ve asked women out, I never felt the need to be persistent.
Jasmine’s face flashes in my head. It’s too soon to have any real feelings toward her, I don’t even know her, but I can’t deny there was something there. With every frown, every sigh, every time she tensed up, I wanted to comfort her, find out what was wrong, and fix it. When she danced in my arms with her head against my chest, it felt right. When she smiled, it was as if my world brightened. And when I watched her walk into her building, I wanted to pull her into my arms and beg her not to leave.
An incoming call on my computer breaks through my thoughts. I click accept and Noah’s face appears on the screen.
“Hey, how’s California?”
“Overcrowded with assholes,” he drawls. “I sent you over the numbers for the property in Sacramento.”
“Thanks, I’ll pull it up now.” When I reach over to set the picture frame down, it knocks my cup of pens over, sending the frame and pens to the ground. The glass frame shatters across my floor, and I curse under my breath as an onslaught of emotions hits me hard.
“What the hell was that?”
“A picture frame broke,” I choke out.
He eyes me speculatively for a long moment. “What’s going on?”
“The anniversary of my parents’ death is coming up.” I take a large swig of my scotch.
“I’m sorry, man. Anything I can do?”
“No, but thanks.”
He nods. “How’d it go tonight with Brad?”
“Not much happened. Brad denied having anything to do with the ERM being called out. Clint was there and didn’t say shit. I put some pressure on Brad to fix it, so hopefully he’s smart and does.”
An email pings and appears on the top of my screen; it’s an invoice from Fairy Tales.
“Have you ever gone out with a Jasmine from that escort service?” I ask Noah, changing the subject.
He thinks about it for a moment before he shakes his head. “I don’t think so, why? Is that who you went out with tonight?”
“Yeah.”
I try to come across nonchalant, but of course the fucker can see right through me and smirks. “How’d it go?”
“Not so good,” I say with a chuckle. “I think I’m going to request her again.”
“What? Why?”
“There was just something about her… I think she might be the one.”
Noah barks out a laugh and I click end on the call before he can comment. We never went over the information he sent me, but I’ll deal with it tomorrow. Tonight, I have an escort to book.
CHAPTER SEVEN
CAMILLA
Isaac Petrosian. Owner of the multimillion-dollar real estate development company that was left to him by his late father, Samuel Petrosian, several years ago after his and his wife’s sudden death. I was young, only nine years old, but I remember my father talking about it. They were driving somewhere and were driven off the road. Their car flipped and caught fire, both killed before anyone could make it to them.