Tommy Mackenzie sat in his office with his elbows on the desk and his hands pressed against his temples as though the right pressure might force clarity through the pounding in his head.
"Come on, Evie," he muttered anxiously as he looked at his phone.
He checked the time and saw that it had been four minutes since his last call to Evie.
She still hadn't read any of his messages nor listened to his voicemail messages. She had gone radio silent since their explosive argument the other night and he was worried about her.
She hadn't even come home.
He tapped the screen again after some seconds but there was still nothing. No replies from Evie. Outside the floor-to-ceiling windows, the city spun on as if his world wasn't quietly imploding.
There was a knock at the door. He didn't answer but the door opened anyway.
"I already told you not receiving visitors..." He started with a sigh, assuming it was his assistant.
"I thought I'd find you here," said a voice far too cheerful for the hour.
He was wrong. That definitely wasn't his assistant's voice.
Tommy looked up in surprise and then his face twisted into a scowl. "Alexa."
She strolled in without waiting for an invitation, a vision in an ivory trench coat and designer heels that clicked against the marble tile. Her makeup was flawless and her choice of lipstick colour was a gleaming red shade that rivaled the vibrancy of her hair.
"I brought coffee," she said, placing a cup on his desk as if she lived there. "Decaf. I figured your blood pressure was already doing somersaults."
"I don't know what game you've come to play now. Frankly, I don't care, but you need to leave," he said menacingly.
She ignored him and took a seat across from him, legs crossed, posture queenlike. "Tough day?"
Her tone was filled with innocence. As if, she didn't have a part to play in the media chaos that had unfolded recently.
Tommy shot daggers at her with his eyes "What the f*ck do you want now? Haven't you done enough damage already?"
Alexa shrugged. "I wanted to see how my favorite almost... fiancé is holding up. The press has been relentless. Honestly, I think you should sue them."
He didn't bite. Instead, he clenched his jaw so hard he feared it would break. She was either downright crazy or delusional with a side of optimism.
She reached forward and slid the coffee toward him. "You look exhausted. That shade of tired doesn't go with your bone structure."
"Get to the point, Alexa."
Her smile didn't falter. "Allison and I had a lovely brunch today. She thinks I'm very poised under pressure."
Tommy blinked. "What does that even mean?"
"She's talking long-term strategy," Alexa continued, examining her nails. "You know, brand alignment. A future the board can believe in."
He stood, slowly. "You're not part of this family."
"Not yet," she said coolly. "But apparently, I'm more presentable than someone who runs a flower shop with a messy history."
Tommy narrowed his eyes. "What do you mean, 'messy history'?"
Alexa paused just long enough for the tension to thicken. Then she laughed, a small, amused sound, and waved a hand.
"Oh, you know. Everyone has secrets, Tommy."
But her smile deepened when she saw the flicker of confusion cross his face. He wasn't faking the ignorance at all.
She tilted her head, savoring the realization. So, he really hadn't been told everything.
That was... interesting. Mentally, she filed the knowledge away, adding it to her growing arsenal.
Tommy came around the desk, looming over her. "Evie's not your competition. There's nothing here for you."
Alexa shook her head. "Oh, sweetheart. Don't be so naive. There is everything here for me. And Evie could never be my competitor when she's just the warm-up act."
He narrowed his eyes. "You don't love me. Hell, you don't even know me."
"And I don't need to," she replied. "I just need the narrative."
He exhaled a bitter laugh. "Have you always been such a performance artist?"
She stood then, walking past him with slow grace. "You should worry less about what I'm performing and more about what your little Evie is up to."
He froze. "What's that supposed to mean?"
Alexa stopped at the door, glancing back with feigned concern. "You know how sensitive girls like her can be under pressure. Especially when old... memories start bubbling up. The internet never forgets."
Tommy's voice dropped. "I swear, if you even think about going near her..."
"Relax," she purred. "I'm just saying that I think you should keep an eye on her. You never really know what someone like that is capable of."
With that, she practically flounced out the door. Even though she had left, the scent of her perfume still lingered, cloying and artificial.
Tommy sat back down with his fists clenched. He wished he had something to direct all the frustration he was feeling.
His phone buzzed and he dove for it hoping that it was Evie, finally reaching out.
It wasn't.
News Alert: Evie Johnson's Flower Shop Vandalized. Police Investigating Possible Hate Crime.
He opened the article, pulse spiking.
There, splashed across the screen, was a photo of Evie. She was walking alone with her head down and red paint smeared across her coat. The windows behind her were shattered and spray-painted slurs had been left across the wall.
The image hit him like a fist to the chest.
He gasped, "What the hell is happening?"