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Lucas
Locks of damp blond hair clung to Lucas’ neck. He felt a new tickle as some pieces brushed his cheek. Lucas removed the baseball cap, keeping most of the mess at bay, combed back as much as he could with his fingers, and replaced the cap backward this time.
There were a bunch of meetings soon to update him on issues with a shipping container stuck in customs in the United Kingdom and another entering Asia. He didn’t want to leave for Christmas with these issues still in limbo. He sat at his massive desk, which was far too big for his office, but Chris insisted on gifting him the damn thing. Lucas pulled up the newest reports and emails to review for his first meeting. Next to his monitor was a framed picture of the twins and Lucas in front of his parent's Christmas tree from nearly six years ago. Bella and Lucas in matching ugly sweaters lit with battery-operated mini-light strings zigzagging across gold-trimmed Christmas trees. Chris refused to be sandwiched between them and their hideous sweaters. In fact, Chris even stood away from his sister by a whole foot.
“Holy crap! What the hell is that?” Chris gasped at Lucas from the door of Lucas’ office like he was wearing that ugly sweater again. Clearly, he'd escaped his mother's clutches and come to torture him right when Lucas finally found his work rhythm.
"What? Want to send me home for breaking the dress code?" Lucas glanced at his plain white t-shirt, gym shorts, and sneakers. "This was the only thing I had in my gym locker. Because apparently Daniel doesn't only do his job. I would think the Finance Director has more to do than steal my suit to have cleaned."
“I hope he had it burned.”
Lucas pushed up his glasses with his middle finger, a sign he had spent too much time with Bella. "I have a job to do. Don't you? Surely there is more to do than deal with your mother's obsession with PR."
“My mother has a point. Bella’s PR can affect the business." Chris sighed. "Also, I have plenty on my plate."
Sure you do, Lucas thought.
“The Foundation my father built...”
"I don't have time for a novel. There's a meeting coming up in twenty minutes. What do you need?" Lucas glanced at the calendar on his computer monitor, double-checking his schedule.
“You don’t have a meeting. We’re having lunch.” The further Chris slouched in Lucas’ guest seat, the more he looked like a child. It mirrored how Lucas felt laughably out-of-place even after seven years working at Astor Pharm full time and years' worth of internships with Eli Astor. Like he was an imposter playing dress-up.
“I literally have a meeting in...” Lucas hit refresh, and the meeting disappeared from his calendar.
"Daniel cleared the next couple of hours." Usually, Chris would give him a Cheshire grin, but not today.
“I... hate you.”
Daniel seriously did both his old job as a personal assistant and his new job co-currently. He could not leave these little jobs like anticipating an Astor’s request to the new assistants.
“I need your help.” He fiddled with the top button of his blazer. “Truly. I need you to...”
“No,” Lucas said.
“...have lunch...”
“Absolutely not,” Lucas interrupted again.
“With Preston and I.”
Lucas took a moment before answering, sizing up Chris sitting calmly in his guest seat. Years of friendship meant Lucas knew when Chris was plotting, but not what he was plotting. The first question he could think of was, “Will Bella be there?”
“Of course not.”
Immediately, Lucas' next question was, "What part of that idiotic plan did you think was a good idea?" Lucas threw down the pencil he'd been fidgeting with. "Huh? If she's not there, I'll punch that goatee right off..."
“You really spend too much time with Bella," Chris said, and finally, his Cheshire grin broke out.
“I’m not...”
One phone, Chris’, buzzed with an incoming text. Then another text followed by Lucas’ phone buzzing. Texts from Alicia came streaming in.
Certain words stuck in Lucas’ mind from Alicia’s texts.
Bella. Arrested. Bail money. Preston. Lawyer.
Lucas wrenched open the top drawer of his desk. "I guess I'm going to lunch with you." Lucas pulled out a set of car keys from the drawer and two bags of peanut butter M&M's.
“What’s that?”
“Bella’s favorite.”
“No! That’s... no!” Chris swatted at Lucas’ hand, trying to snatch the bags of M&M’s right out of his hand. “She loves that chocolate from Germany my father always brought home.”
“Bella loves peanut butter. Specifically, peanut butter M&M’s.” Lucas dropped the bags in his shorts pocket. “She can love both.”
Plus, watching Bella attack Preston required snacks. Hence, he needed a bag for himself.
“Gross,” Chris grimaced.
***
Bella
Lunch in New York, particularly a lunch of a certain status, only happened at a handful of restaurants. Most high-end restaurants opened only for dinner, so few restaurants were open and up to Preston Warren's standards. A restaurant close to his office narrowed the field even more.
She had no cell phone signal in the subway, but Bella had a pretty good idea of where to head. The 7th Avenue stop would be closest to the Warren offices and within walking distance of several Michelin restaurants.
Sitting in the subway car, Bella lost the sense of whatever she was covered in, but the people around her were pinching their noses. And actually staring. Not blatantly ignoring her, as per New York tradition.
Bella felt like eyes followed her progress everywhere. Out of the subway car at 7th, up the stairs, and toward the Warren office.
Standing on the corner, Bella did the calculations. Pres enjoyed a view, and she knew there were many that he enjoyed regularly. Man wants a view and obscenely expensive dining before noon near his office? Bella headed straight to The Modern. In only a couple minutes, she saw the bright floor-to-ceiling wall of windows with patrons in the midst of being seated at a window near the door gawking at her. During the day, the restaurant was awash in whites and light everywhere.
Bella slammed through the front door and spotted Preston in the middle of the window seating, reading the menu. As far as she could tell, he didn’t see her coming up the street.
At once, a hostess, maȋtre d', and a manager all approached Bella and her literally shit-stained clothes. She wheeled on them at the first discreet, “Excuse me,” one of them dared to say to her.
“Don’t tell me to leave! I’m a goddamn Astor! And I need to speak to that asshole.”
The word Astor caused them to back off. Bella hated invoking her surname but right now appreciated the power it held.
The Modern was not packed to the brim with patrons for an early Thursday lunch. But the patrons there fixated on 'Bella-hot-mess Astor' stomping through the restaurant. Including Preston.
Pres pressed a hand along his hair, not through it since that would muss it all up. As if that would ever matter. Nine times out of ten, Pres' hair bounced back to its perfect coif. Pres wore one of his immaculately tailored navy blue Burberry suits, which accented his broad chest. Fists clenched tight, Bella fought to not grab the first free item and lob it at his face.
She stormed to him, shoving Preston back into his seat when he tried to stand and offer her a chair.
"Bella?" He reached out for her hand, and she jerked it away. "Let's go somewhere..."
"Private?" Bella left delusions of being quiet behind at the clinic. "No! I'm not going somewhere fucking quiet, Preston! People are going to put this up on the internet, then so fucking be it! I was the villain before, and I will be the villain again. I am always the goddamn villain in this story! But I am done! People have been attacking me since I could walk! But you? You're the prince of this city! You never ever have to take responsibility for your actions, but Preston, they have real-world consequences! And I don't care! I don't! Let me be the villain, but your inaction, not speaking out about these videos and news stories, is getting other people hurt! Not 'maybe,' but is! My patients! Mine! Can’t come into my clinic without being attacked!” She’d run out of steam. Preston sat in the chair, letting her rant, and he looked... surprisingly apologetic. Like he actually had some kind of feelings over what happened.
“Are you...?”
“Don’t you dare! Don’t!” All the energy Bella had been storing waned. “You’re a Warren. You have the power to fix this. That’s all I’m asking. For once, own up to your mistakes. Explain to the world that I’m not some bad guy that needs to be attacked so my patients can come and see me. Safely.”
On the table, Preston’s phone sat in an empty water glass. He reached to grab it first, but Bella was faster.
Pres shrugged, “We’re live.”
“We’re WHAT?”
She saw he was logged into his social media and streaming live. The video had been pointed right at Bella. Now it showed her feet and Pres' moving into the frame. He'd stood and was right next to her.
His hands, warm and soft, cupped hers, fingers trying to open her palms.
"You're right. I didn't do anything to protect you, Bella. I was an asshole, and I should have done so much more, and I'm sorry. What those people did to your clinic disgusts me. I never thought that something like that would ever happen. Bella, I’m sorry.”
She glanced down at the screen. Comments scrolled past, asking if this was real or staged and what the hell was happening. Bella ended the live stream. She threw the phone back on the table and jerked herself back.
At least one person within the restaurant had to have been live or recording, too. There was no way not one employee or patron wasn’t filming. The social media story would keep going.
“Bella-donna,” Pres whispered, and she pulled another step away from Pres at the nickname, trying not to think about the hundreds of times he’d whispered it in her ear. “You’ve always been right. I never stood up for you.”
Her mind was empty. Like a void was left in her brain’s place.
"Can we talk?" Pres circled the table to pull out a chair for her. He also motioned to the young brunette hostess, waving the woman away.
“There’s no silverware on the table,” Bella noted coldly.
He knew she was coming and had expected silverware, or almost anything, on the table would be a poor idea to have in arm’s reach of Bella. New rage burned in her chest.
“Yes.” Pres drummed the chair he held for her. “I saw the anonymous video. Do you...?”
He moved to take off his suit jacket, and she slapped him, growling, “No.”
“I’m sure you have questions, Bella. Where do you want to start?”
Did she have questions? She was drowning in questions, and this might be the only time she was calm enough to ask them.
The only question she latched onto was, "Why... were you at the gallery?"
Pres gripped the back of the chair, his knuckles a bright white, and chuckled. Around them, people were still gawking, but it was the phones pointed at them that Pres withered under. "Can we please move this conversation to a more private location?"
Bella stood resolute, arms folded over the stains, food, and whatever else was stuck to her.
"I went to the opening of the exhibit. Evan, the photojournalist you met in Syria, is a friend of my father's. I've known him for years. And I saw you there. In the photos.” Pres stood up, opening himself up for people to see him. Get the best angle. “And Lina was at the opening.”
She let a groan escape at that. "Oh, my God."
“Lina said you were getting an award. I just wanted to congratulate you. And I thought... well... I wanted to see how you were after what happened.”
She muttered, punctuating the last few words with a punch of the table, “The explosion. There was an explosion. A bomb. Just say the damn words.”
“I was relieved. You look...” He stopped and started again, “I made a lot of mistakes.”
“Is that code for you slept with a lot of women?”
“No. I never slept with other women when we were dating. That night, before you left, was...”
Bella thought Pres was going to say accident but thought better of it. Definitely the right call.
“I had your grandmother’s ring. But you were leaving.”
“I’d talked about that trip for years. It wasn’t news, Pres! You knew I was leaving but that I was coming back.”
"I know. But you were going and didn't know how long you would be gone. You were gone four years. And almost didn't even come back to us."
“I don’t owe you an explanation now for how long I was gone when we weren’t together.”
And it wasn’t a secret with Lucas, Chris, or Alicia that she’d stayed longer because part of her couldn’t face Pres again. Not yet.
He continued, "You're right. You're always right, Bella. I should have stepped up a long time ago. Even before we dated."
A waiter appeared with two glasses of water and a tray of assorted appetizers, sweating profusely.
“Do you want to stay? Join me for lunch?” Pres leaned forward, reaching out for her hand. “We could catch up?”
“No,” Another step back. “I don’t want to stay.”
Murmurs spread through the restaurant-goers as a paper ripped. The tearing sound was as loud as a scream.
Bella swung around to see Lucas standing in the middle of the restaurant, ripping open a package of M&M's. He had damp hair and was in his gym clothes. Not even a jacket in the middle of winter. Chris sidled away from him but also waved away the approaching maȋtre d’. Preston appeared next to Bella, jacket off this time.
“Want me to drive you home?” Pres asked. “We could finish...”
Bella swung back. “No.”
Pres wrinkled his nose at her, a stark reminder that she was still covered in garbage that would ruin his jacket.
“But maybe, one day, you can tell me what the fuck happened the night before I left. But, for today, I’m done.” Pulling away, Bella said, “Goodbye, Pres.”
A smile tugged at her cheeks.
“See you around, Bella-donna.”
She shook her head at him. “I’m not that anymore. Not to you.”
“Understood.” And Pres bowed to her.
Bella crossed the restaurant to her brother and Lucas, holding a hand demanding a palmful of candy. Lucas held one candy over her head and dropped it when she opened her mouth.
“That’s unbearable,” Chris said.
Her hand held out, Bella pleaded for a handful, and Chris snatched her wrist as he abruptly let go and asked, "What are you covered in?"
“What does it look like?” Bella quipped.
“That’s disgusting,” Chris shuddered.
Despite the garbage, Lucas slipped an arm around Bella, pulling her into a hug. Playfully, he ruffled her hair and slipped his hat off and onto her head. He looked past Bella and gave Pres a terse wave.
“Come on, the valet wouldn’t park Lucas’ piece of crap car.” Chris pinched his nose closed. “And I’m so grateful I called for a separate car. You can go with Lucas since nothing else can ruin that piece of crap.”
Lucas rolled his eyes and said, “You look better.”
“I feel better.” And she wasn’t just saying she was better.
For the first time in a long, long time, she felt free.