CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Daniel sat in the back of his Mercedes Maybach while his bags were loaded into the trunk. Moments later, they were speeding along the Lower Manhattan Expressway, heading home.
“Good trip, Mr. Dufort?” Jim, his driver, asked, glancing in the rearview mirror.
“Yes, thank you, Jim,” he said, glancing back at the man who had worked for him for over five years. “It was nice to be away from the cold.”
And to have a beautiful woman in my arms who meant something to me, but you know all about that because you are married. And I used to pity you. Now I’m wondering if I’ve been wrong.
“I’m not going to lie, sir. I’m envious. It’s been damn cold.”
Daniel looked up.
“Jim?” he said in question. “How did you know Kathy was the woman you wanted to spend the rest of your life with?”
Jim smiled, and it lit up his face.
“Oh, that’s an easy one, sir. I simply couldn’t breathe without her. She tried to leave me once because I was an idiot. It was hell. I couldn’t see my life without her.”
Daniel looked out the window, slowly nodding.
“You’ll know,” Jim said, surprising Daniel. He rarely spoke without prompt. “I might be out-of-place saying this, and perhaps you don’t think I see or hear everything, but I do. You have a big heart, Mr. Dufort. People like us, we love big.”
People like us?
“I just do what’s right,” Daniel replied, his eyes moving back inside the car. “But I don’t think I have this time.”
“If she’s truly yours, you’ll know.”
Daniel turned back out the window and then, not knowing why, he murmured, “It’s not Senator Mackenzie’s daughter.”
The press release was out, so people around America were already emailing and calling with congratulations. Each one making him feel more and more ill.
“Never thought it was, Mr. Dufort. Never thought it was.”
––––––––
THE DOORMAN DROPPED his bags inside the door and wished Daniel a good evening.
“Thank you,” he said and stepped into his 57th Avenue apartment, on the infamous Billionaire Row. He pulled off his gloves and hung up his coat, just like it was any other winter night.
Except it wasn’t. He didn’t feel the same.
The expansive and architecturally designed apartment took over the entire top floor and had four bedrooms, three bathrooms, a private gym, an office, dining room, living room and chef’s kitchen. Outside, a spacious balcony with two sets of luxury furniture overlooked Central Park.
He greeted his brothers, who were sitting in the living room while the enormous fireplace roared and threw out a warm glow against the soft neutral colors of the lounge suite. The painting above it looked as if it were moving as the shadows flickered against the canvas.
Daniel sat down, melting into the cushions.
“Drink?” Fletcher asked, walking over to the bar where a handful of crystal decanters sat filled with the best spirits one could buy. “By the way—”
Olivia wandered into the room, shaking her hands, indicating she’d just used his guest bathroom.
“Mr. Dufort,” she said,
Fletcher lifted the glass, pointing at the woman. “Olivia is here.”
“I see that. Hello, Olivia,” Daniel replied, taking the crystal glass filled with dark golden liquid from his brother.