Chapter 9 : Dinner with the Withers

*Matthew's POV*

My foot pressed down harder on the gas pedal, feeling soothed as I felt the engine rumble under it. The sound that it produced nearly made me smile too. There was something exhilarating about driving a fast car.

Unlike anything else, it allowed my mind to be free.

I passed by one of the city cops, and they simply nodded their head in greeting. Another perk of having a well-known and wealthy family; I knew almost every governmental figure, politician, and law enforcement personnel in West Heartford.

As a teenager, I reveled in the freedoms my status brought me, but as I grew older, I realized how it made me feel isolated and somewhat lonely.

With my foot pressed down hard on the gas pedal, it didn't take long for me to pull into my private parking area under my apartment floor. I made sure to close the car door gently. I had already unnecessarily taken my anger out on someone else and didn't want to repeat the mistake and feel any more guilt.

The elevator moved quickly as I loosened the tie around my neck. More than anything, I was excited to finally get a moment to myself where I could relax on my own.

But that wasn't the case.

As soon as the doors opened, I saw Anne standing at my kitchen counter. She had a glass of wine in front of her and she proceeded to smile as she saw me appear. I, however, did not return the favor.

"What are you doing here, Anne?" I asked as I threw my tie over the back of the couch. "The point of breaking up means that we don't have to see each other anymore, and it definitely means that you can't just come to my house and hang out whenever you feel like it."

"I've only been here for a few minutes," she said with a slight eye roll and a small chuckle. “Relax, Matthew.”

I could tell by the now half-empty bottle of wine that she was holding that it was more than a few minutes. Probably even closer to an hour.

"Why are you in my apartment?" I asked harshly.

She topped off her glass and set the empty bottle on the island. "I just want to talk,” she stated, drawing out her words slightly.

I sighed in exasperation. I knew exactly what ‘talk’ meant to her. This is why it never worked with the two of us. I couldn't handle someone that acted like a child all the time. She was only a year younger than me, at 31, but she acted and partied like she was still 19, and it disgusted me.

"There's nothing to talk about, Anne." I tried to control my anger as it bubbled up deep inside me again. "We already broke up. It’s done with."

I undid my cufflinks, trying to occupy my hands. Anne began to saunter over to me, accentuating her hips as she moved. Her dark features stuck out perfectly in the modern room, but then again, I had always known she was beautiful.

Only, as I came to learn, looks weren't always everything.

Trinity was good-looking as well, and she didn't act like this. I shook my head slightly trying to get the thought of her out of my head. It only caused me to feel guilt for reacting the way I did, and I’d rather just forget about it. I had Anne to deal with now.

She stepped right up to me and slid one of her hands up my chest, along my suit collar.

"Come on, babe, you know we are great together," Anne noted in a low, seductive voice. "I don't even remember why we broke up. My dad was just talking to your dad last night, and they agreed that we make a perfect match."

She really didn't know me if she thought that telling me that my father approved would change my mind. Honestly, it would have the opposite effect.

"We broke up for a number of reasons. The main one is that you thought multiple other guys were your perfect match too, remember?" I tried to step away from her and get some distance. "You could look online, I'm sure the paparazzi still have all the photos if you need a refresher."

"Matthew," Anne whined out. "I promise it won't happen again, just give me another chance."

She proceeded to follow me into the kitchen as I grabbed a whiskey glass. I needed a drink after today.

"Not interested," I replied curtly as I poured a glass from a very old and vintage bottle.

"Don't be mean,” she sighed. “I know you still want me." Anne stepped up and pressed herself against me again. "Let's go to the room, and I know I can change your mind."

And she probably could. That and the fact that we were in the same social circles had always made dating her convenient. But I had told myself that it was final the last time, and I needed to stick to it.

"I said no," I growled, moving away from her and swigging back my drink. Anne stared at me, startled by my tone. I could see her eyes glossing over, but I felt no remorse. Not like I had earlier with Trinity. "Now, get the hell out of my house before I throw you out myself."

Anne’s tears built up, but I watched as she swallowed them down and stepped back away from me. She knew I would never hurt her, but she could tell I was serious now.

"Maybe I'll just come back later once you have calmed down," Anne said slowly.

I didn’t speak. Rather, I poured myself another glass and took another sip, all the while glaring her down as she grabbed her coat and finally left.

Then, before I knew what I was doing, I pulled the glass from my lips and chucked across the room, shattering the glass against the living room wall, the sound of it shattering echoing through the room.

I sat in the closest kitchen chair and tried to regain control. My head instantly fell into my hands as I heard the elevator leave, and I cursed under my breath.

Why did I always let my temper get the best of me? I had no idea how to handle it. For the first time in my life, I should be happy. Everything was going well with the company, and I was living alone, finally out of my father’s hold.

But yet I just wasn't happy.

I sighed. With my rage subsided, I stood back up. I cleaned up the mess I had made by throwing my tantrum; I would never make the maid clean up something like this that was entirely my fault. Once satisfied that I had picked up all the glass and cleaned it to the best of my abilities, I got ready to go and take a shower to help relax me even further.

As soon as I walked into my bedroom, I noticed something on my bed. It was a pile of plastic, and I walked up to look at it, confused. As I got closer, I realized it was my dry-cleaned suits, and they were completely wrinkled. I felt my blood begin to boil again.

Seriously?!

I stormed into the bathroom and got in the hot shower before I could do something else I would regret. The hot water hitting my shoulders actually did help my tense muscles relax. And by the time I left the bathroom, the steam was on the mirrors rather than inside me.

I walked to my closet and dropped the towel to throw on some gray sweatpants. I rubbed the same towel through my hair, picking up the remaining residual water, and then walked back into the bedroom and sat down on the bed, grabbing my phone.

My mood was officially ruined again as soon as I read the message on the screen. The name ‘Daniel Jr.’ flashed across the top, and I knew before I opened it that I would be upset. Nothing my brother ever had to say was a positive thing for me.

Sure enough, I opened the message to find a reminder: ‘Don't forget family dinner reservations are at 9 tonight. Dad’s expecting you.’

Of course, he was. I looked over at my bedside alarm and saw it read just a little after 10AM. I had a meeting with Brett later and a few things later today to handle with my accountant and lawyers. After all of that, I’d barely have time to get myself ready before having to leave again for a very unwanted dinner.

I sighed. I had forgotten, most likely on purpose, that I was supposed to go out with my father and brother tonight. For a moment, I debated not going. However, I had tried that before, and it never worked. My father would not allow it. Everyone had to follow his rules…and he had ways of getting what he wanted.

I didn't even bother to respond to the text as I walked back to the closet to change into a new, clean suit. While I was at it, I threw the bag with the wrinkled suits in the corner over the chair that occupied the changing room, then I found one of my nicest ones and set it aside to change into later that night.

I'm sure my father would still find something wrong with the suit I was wearing, but I still had to try. There was no pleasing that man.

I groaned as I considered the evening I was in for. The passive aggressive comments, the questions, the judgment…it was always never-ending, and the last thing I needed right now.

I grabbed one of the watches from the drawer that was coated in gold and threw it on my wrist. My parents had bought the watch for me when I graduated high school, and it was one of the few things that was actually a positive reminder of my relationship with them.

Mirrors lined one dressing room wall, and I checked myself out. Everything looked presentable except my hair, so I finished with accessories and headed to the bathroom. The steam had cleared enough for me to see myself and fix my hair in minutes, with gel being my best friend.

I glanced down at my watch and realized I only had about a half hour left before my meeting with Brett, so I quickly rushed out of my room and grabbed my keys as I walked out the door.

However, I did make the time to make a pit stop at the front desk of the building. I approached the front desk and gestured for the doorman to come over. When everyone was close enough to hear, I cleared my throat before getting right to the point.

"Miss Anne Gordon is no longer allowed in my apartment or floor."

They all looked at me in surprise. No matter how many times we had broken up before, I had never disallowed her from my building, but no one argued. As powerful as Anne was, these men worked for the building and were obliged to keep their high-profile tenants happy.

"If she refuses to leave, I ask that you guys contact me or let me know if she shows up again. Understand?"

Everyone who heard me nodded, and a resounding ‘yes, sir’ followed. I thanked them and smiled, and before they could say anything else, I turned and started to walk to the parking garage. However, I changed my mind a few steps in and turned back around.

"Actually, could you call me a car?" I asked. "I don't feel like driving tonight."

"Yes, of course, Mr. Withers,” the concierge agreed. "I'll get one right away."

Now after my meetings, I could drink as much as I needed to get through the night without being worried about how I would get home or leaving one of my cars somewhere unprotected overnight. I glanced back at my watch and realized I only had 20 minutes until Brett arrived.

Perfect.

Part of me wanted to retreat into my apartment and cancel the day—lie and say I was sick so I could stay in and refuse dinner once more. Maybe my dad would be so angry that he would forget everything else.

The other part of me was still glad that my day was so booked that I wouldn't get there with much time to spare, meaning I would have to spend the least amount of time with them as possible.

Or really, just as little time with him.

Dinner with the Withers. I couldn't think of anything better to end the day.