CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

It was another five days before Laurent saw Rose. The office had gotten marginally more interesting with rumors milling around, but he hadn't seen the source in days. Those five days had been hard; it was like he was in a limbo, waiting for something, and he could finally relate to the mental stress that not knowing what was happening would bring. The board members had yet to reach out; Rose was MIA, and even her crazy friend had only glared at him on that day. She hadn't said anything or tried anything. Just a glare and then she too had left.

At least he still had updates on the older Blackwell. He visited the man in the hospital every day, and they just co-existed. With nothing to say to the other person, he focused his mind on not thinking about Rose while the old man just lay on the bed, drifting between sleep and wakefulness. He looked older than he'd looked going into the hospital, and his doctor was concerned about the despondency. 

He'd also called him aside to ask why Rose no longer came around and he'd had to find a pretty good excuse. He was sure he hadn't been convincing enough anyway. But despite all that was going on, the party was still going to be held the following Saturday. He'd invited reporters, guests and a lot of people. The venue had been secured, the food had been ordered, the music, lights, photographers and videographers—everything had been taken care of. It was amazing what money could do, especially when the legal owner of the money had practically given up on life. 

He'd been looking out for Rose at work but their offices weren't really close to one another. A small part of him said he'd change it when he became the legal owner, but he banished that thought. He shouldn't be stalking a lady who clearly wanted nothing to do with him. Although, if he were to tell himself the truth, only about 35% of him just missed Rose, the remaining part of him was more than a little worried. That little spiel, 'Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned' hadn't left his brain. 

He packed his bags and locked the door behind him. He'd been taking more overtime in the last few days in preparation for his role. He was a nobody who would all of a sudden own a corporate empire the size of Blackwell. There were going to be eyes on him, and he wouldn't want to fail before he'd even started. 

It wasn't until he was almost at his car that he saw her. She was alone, just standing by the car door and staring into space. It was late enough that darkness had already descended, but the street lights illuminated her face brightly. Between the last time he'd seen her and at the moment, he could clearly see that she'd gotten thinner. Her face was slimmer and she had bags under her eyes.

She hadn't seen him yet, and she checked the watch on her wrist. Even her wrists had gotten thinner. But even with all those, Rose Blackwell was still the most physically attractive woman he knew. Her every move suggested elegance and when she used a hand to flip her hair to the side, he almost sighed out loud. He closed his eyes and opened them again.

"Hey," he said, speaking before he got to the car.

She turned around all of a sudden, and he could see more details he hadn't seen before. Her normally pale skin looked even paler. She looked sick.

He swallowed the automatic question that rose in him.

"Hey," she responded back. Despite her physical appearance, her voice was upbeat. She was probably faking it but he was going to hope for the best.

The silence between them quickly became awkward and he cleared his throat.

"You were waiting for me."

"Yeah," Her eyes went upstairs and she shifted her hair again. It looked to be a nervous tic. "You finished pretty late today."

He decided to test her. "Preparing to run a business this big takes training. I need to put in more effort if I'm just going to get the crash course."

To his surprise and pleasure, she gave a little huff of laughter. Perhaps the 5 days of absence had done them some good and she was finally giving in to the idea of his betrayal.

He smiled back and they both stared at each other awkwardly again.

"So," she said, shuffling her feet.

He just stared at her. She eventually sighed and slumped against the car.

"I wanted to ask about my father."

'He's not your father,' he wanted to say, but that wasn't his secret to tell. He'd ruined her life enough.

"How is he?" she continued, and he stared at her. 

Truth be told, when the doctor had asked about Rose, it had been the first time he'd seen the weirdness of the situation. For people who were so close that journalists commented on their familial bond, anger wasn't supposed to just make her abandon him like that.

He cocked his head, "Why don't you go and see him?"

She looked away and looked back, "Just answer the question, will you?"

He shrugged his shoulder, "He's doing as well as can be expected. The doctor is ready to give him a clean bill of health and discharge him, but he's..."

He shrugged his shoulder again.

"He's what?" she asked urgently.

It was his turn to look away in guilt. 

"Laurent, come on, don't leave me hanging." she bit out.

"Well, he's a little sad, and the doctor doesn't really want him alone since you've not shown up."

She closed her eyes in clear pain. "Thank you." she whispered, turning away.

"Rose!" he called out and she turned to him.

"You don't look too good. Are you alright?"

She gave a short, harsh laugh at that and he flinched at the bitterness coming from it. "Am I alright? Am I alright with the fact that right now I don't have access to my father because he's taken a restraining order against me? Or the fact that I have to ask about his fucking well-being from someone like you who caused the problem in the first place? What do you think? Of course, I'm all right. I'm peachy, perfect even." She laughed again and walked on.

He ran to meet her and touched her shoulder. "Rose, I..." was all he was allowed to say. She turned around and slapped him on the cheek. "Get your filthy hands off me, you animal." she shouted, laughing again when she was done and finally jogging away from him. He stared at her with his hands on his cheek. He should have seen that coming.