Breaking Mr. Cold (Giselle and Donovan) novel Chapter 813

Chris wasn't shaken by the sudden outburst. He only gave Donovan a long, deep look. Then, he turned and placed the bag on his desk. Right beside it, he set down the keys to the Bentley he usually drove.

"Goodbye."

His voice was hoarse as he bade his farewell. Without a hint of hesitation, he pushed the door open and left.

The skin on the back of Donovan's hand was scraped and bleeding from the impact with the glass. But he felt no pain—only a crushing sense of loss that washed over him, making it hard to breathe.

He dropped onto the couch, exhausted. When Leonard knocked to report on work, he snapped, "Get out!"

Startled, he hurried away.

Donovan had no strength left to deal with the mountain of work waiting for him. Listless, he slumped against the couch, smoking one cigarette after another in the heavy silence.

He didn't know what was wrong with him.

Chris was just an ordinary employee he'd hired; if he wanted to leave, fine. Why was he wasting his time dwelling on it? Why did Chris' departure leave him feeling so shaken and adrift?

…

After leaving the office, Chris hailed a ride on his phone. He planned to head back to his place to pack his things. Sitting in the backseat, he leaned against the window and watched the city slide past. He replayed their shared memories over and over, his chest feeling emptier by the second.

After the cigarettes came the alcohol. Ignoring the fact that his body hadn't fully recovered from the accident, he twisted open a bottle of dry white wine and drank it like water.

He didn't know how much he drank, when he blacked out, or how long he slept. When he finally woke, it was well past noon the next day.

He found himself sprawled on the couch, his body feeling like it had been shattered into pieces. Everything ached; he didn't want to move. His mind was a disoriented haze, making it difficult to think straight.

Just then, his phone began to ring. He fumbled around for a while before finally fishing it out from under the couch.

When he looked at the screen, it was a number he didn't recognize.