One Weekend with the Billionaire novel Chapter 61

The moment I step into the office, I can tell by Cindy’s face that there’s something she doesn’t want to tell me. I don’t have to ask whether or not it has something to do with Jeff Thompson. I can tell that it does. I am confused, though. Jeff doesn’t have to be at work until 9:00, and it’s barely 8:30. In the two years that he’s worked here, I can never remember him ever being early one time. In fact, most days he’s not even on time.

"Good morning, Mr. Merriweather," Cindy says, tension in her voice.

"Good morning," I say, arching an eyebrow at her. "What is it, Cindy?"

She hesitates before she says, "Jeff Thompson is… demanding to see you. Right away."

"All right," I say with a shrug and a nod. "You can let him know I’m here."

She still looks nervous, and I have to wonder if Thompson has said something rude to her. "Yes, sir."

I go into my office and turn my desktop computer on, wondering what I’m going to say to Thompson. I’m sure he’s angry that his wife has chosen to be with me. How could he not be? It’s his fault, though. He has to realize that. If he had taken care of his wife the way he should have, we wouldn’t be in this position to begin with.

A few minutes after I’ve gotten settled in for the day, there’s a knock on my door. I can tell by the sharpness that it’s not Cindy; it’s Thompson.

I wait a few beats before I say anything at all, letting him sweat a bit, letting him know that he is not in charge here. When I finally speak, I try my best to sound nonchalant and hope there’s not a hitch in my voice. "Come in."

Thompson practically flings the door open. He steps into my office with wild eyes, disheveled in a way that even Thompson has never appeared in my presence before. He hasn’t shaved. His clothing is wrinkly, and his eyes are bloodshot like he hasn’t slept at all. I stare at him, my head tipped to the side, trying to figure out whether or not I need to call security.

He must realize he looks like an animal. He steps into the office, closes the door, and straightens his tie. It does little to make him appear civilized, but it does give me the impression that he’s not here to kill me.

"Thompson," I say, foregoing the niceties. "What do you want?"

"With all due respect to you as my boss," he says, as he strides across the room to my desk, "I want my wife back."

I stare at him, my eyes wide, as I consider how to respond. He doesn’t sit. Instead, he stands with his hands clamped down on the back of one of the chairs across the desk from me, trying to keep his eyes still. I have to wonder if he’s not high or something. I don’t think he is, though. I think he’s finally just beginning to realize what he’s lost. Or that he’s lost, anyway. I can’t imagine he could value Julia enough to realize he’s lost the best woman in the world; I think he’s just pissed that he’s lost in general.

I shrug. "I’m not sure what to tell you, Thompson. Julia has made her own decision. There’s not much I can do about that."