Engagement Rate (The Callaghan Green Series Book 1) Page 13

  Jackson and Simone turned to look at him, recognition immediately appearing on Jackson's face.

  "Hi, I'm Simone Wood," Simone presented her hand, oblivious to who he was. "I'm the head chef and owner here. Thank you for coming to see us."

  "I'm Richard Cole, the owner of Cole Henderson, the marketing company behind tonight's event," he said, and I realized at that point he was drunk. I wasn't going to make excuses for him or defend him in any way. He was an adult and I had been done trying to look after him more than a year ago.

  "Oh," Simone said. "I'm sorry. I've only dealt with Vanessa and her team for the past nine months – is it only nine months? I feel like this restaurant has taken over my life!" She turned to me. "Vanessa's been wonderful. She does such a good job, not just with the marketing but dealing with people too. I will have to leave you to it, I'm afraid – I can see one of the blasted critics wants my attention."

  "How are you doing, Richard?" I said, hoping no one could hear the booming of my heart.

  "How the fuck do you think I'm doing after your fucking lawyer got in touch?" he said, glaring at me. "What the fuck are you trying to do? Ruin me? Isn't it bad enough that you've moved out? How do you think my father reacted to that?" His voice was low enough that only me and Jackson could hear and most of the guests were on their way out. I took a deep breath and waited for him to continue, knowing that there was no point in arguing back.

  Jackson watched and listened, his hands in his pockets. His face was expressionless and I knew he was waiting to intervene. I hoped he didn't have to but at this point, I wasn't sure where I was going to get the energy to diffuse Richard without having an almighty argument.

  "Now I'm having to get the business valued and the apartment. You've stopped me from taking money out of the Cole Henderson accounts – that's my money, Vanessa. I can have it if I want! If you've any sense you'll pack your shit up from that stupid friend's place and move back home and drop this silly, pathetic notion of buying me out. You're just a pretty face with a pair of tits; that's the only reason you've managed to bring in any business at all. Fucking dumb slut!" he necked back the spirit he'd been nursing which I guessed was brandy, his poison of choice as he said it was classier than whiskey.

  "Okay, Richard," I said, stepping closer to him but not touching. "Here's what I think you should do: call a cab and get yourself back to the apartment where you live. Have lots of water and maybe some painkillers for a headache you're going to have in the morning. Spend the weekend thinking about what you want going forward into a future that is not, under any circumstances, going to involve me. Then on Monday morning, have a chat with your lawyer. We don't need to discuss anything because I don't think you will like anything I have to say. Shall I call you a cab?"

  "I'm not fucking going anywhere until you're coming with me?"

  "Where's the girl you were seeing? Charlotte? Will she come and pick you up?"

  "She's at home."

  "Where's home at the moment, Richard?"

  "The apartment."

  "So, Charlotte's at the apartment which is where you want me to go back to?"

  He grinned. "We could have a threesome."

  "No, Richard. I'm not coming back to the apartment with you, nor am I going to have a threesome with you and your girlfriend."

  "You going to go home with this fucker?" He pointed to Jackson and swayed unsteadily on his feet.

  "This is a potential client who is looking at using Cole Henderson for a marketing campaign. You need to think how you're acting right now and what damage you're doing to yourself and the firms you have an interest in. There's a lot of media about still," I said, knowing that this was potentially the best way to half sober him up.

  Richard's eyes flickered up at Jackson. "Fuck. She's good. She's really good at all this marketing shit. I just own the business."

  "You own just over half the business, I believe. And to all intents and purposes you're a sleeping partner," Jackson said. "I have full confidence in Vanessa but not in you, Mr. Cole. It's a good thing you aren't directly involved else you'd potentially be devaluing the business right now. Why don't you get yourself home?"

  "Only if she comes home with me." Richard points to me. "She's mine, you know."

  I saw Jackson look agitated and his jaw clench. "I don't think she wants to go home with you, Mr. Cole. Are you the type of man who forces a woman to do something they don't want?"

  Richard shook his head lamely. "She wants to come home with me though. Don't you?"

  "No, Richard. I don't." I looked up to where one of the security personnel Simone hired for the evening was standing, watching us with concern. I gave him a nod and he walked over calmly.

  "Everything okay, Vanessa?" he said, his eyes watched Richard's every move.

  "This is Richard Henderson. He lives on Townmead Road, Fulham and is completely intoxicated. Do you think you could get him in a cab home? If he resists I'd suggest calling the police," I said, keeping my voice emotionless. Inside I was raging, wanting nothing more than to shout and scream at Richard but I knew that wouldn't work even if he was sober.

  "Come with me, sir," the security guard said, taking hold of his arm. "Let's get you a cab so you can start to sleep off the booze."

  Jackson and I followed a few footsteps behind as Richard was escorted off the premises. We watched as security walked him to a waiting cab, Richard seemingly calm until he swung a right hook at the security guard, just as a police car had pulled over. Perfect timing.

  We moved closer, partly to watch what would happen, partly so we could explain to the police who he was and if they needed to know any background.

  A police officer took hold of Richard, forcing him away from the security guard. "What's your name?" he asked Richard.

  Richard responded with a tirade of abuse, something along the lines of paying taxes and being treated appallingly. I saw the cuffs appear in the hands of another officer.

  "Does anyone have any details for this man seeing as he's refusing to provide us with any?" the officer asked.

  I stepped forward, gave Richard's name and address. It was irrelevant who he was, or who his father was, he had no right to treat anyone the way he had done.

  "What's your relationship to him?" another officer asked. The first police car had since been joined by a second.

  "I'm his business partner." I gave my name.

  "She's my fucking girlfriend and all this is her fault," Richard said.

  I shook my head. "We did live together until twelve months ago."

  "And he's been harassing you tonight?" the officer said.

  Jackson spoke from behind me. "He's been abusive towards her and if I hadn't had been present I suspect he would've been physically aggressive. I believe his current girlfriend is at his apartment. Vanessa will make a complaint about his behavior."

  "Sure. In the meantime, we'll let him sober up in the cells. Might give him a bit of a reality check." A police van pulled up, the back opened and Richard was deposited, still shouting commands and threats.

  "He'll fall asleep shortly," I said. "Remind him of what he's done when he wakes up. Even better if you can show video evidence of it."

  The officer laughed. "We'll try. Have a good rest of your evening."

  "Are you okay?" Simone headed over to us. "Come in and get a drink. I didn't realize how drunk he was at first else I would've had him taken out earlier."

  "I'm so sorry, Simone," I said. "We've caused a scene – I really hope it hasn't spoilt the evening." I was running through my head what I could offer her to put right Richard's behavior. I wasn't responsible for it, but he was still part of the company and it was going to reflect badly on us.

  "It hasn't. Nearly everybody had gone, except the employees and they enjoyed the show. What was his problem?" Simone assured me and looked angry on my behalf. We walked inside and she jumped behind the bar. Alice appeared too, looking concerned.

  "He isn't getting his own way," I said. "Honest
ly, I don't think I want anything to drink. Let's just get everything tidied and we can go home."

  Simone leaned on her elbows. "Are you sure?"

  Jackson nodded and put an arm around my shoulders. I found myself leaning into him and for a moment my eyes welled up with tears. "Well done you," I said, trying to smile at him, not wanting to cry in front of everyone.

  "What for?" He looked puzzled.

  "Not hitting him. When he called me a slut I thought you were going to knock him into next week," I said, managing that smile.

  Jackson shook his head, Simone and Alice both watching us. "No point. But tomorrow we are going to the police station so you can lodge a complaint against him. There's nothing the police can do but it puts in on record what he was like tonight and I'll make sure the security guard presses charges. Has he done anything like this before since you've split up?"

  "No. I've had a few drunken voicemails left – I still have those – but he's never sought me out except after I first moved out and he was demanding I came back. I'm not surprised he's done this, given he's no longer got access to the accounts and he knows there's going to be a court-ordered sale of both the company and the apartment..." I paused and took a breath. "Alice, are you okay finishing off? Simone, I'm so sorry this has marred your evening."

  Simone shook her head. "It's nice to have a drama where I'm not involved. My ex is currently still in prison, so I do understand where you're coming from"

  I looked at her in shocked curiosity. In my research on her, it had never come up.

  Simone reached for my hand. "It's a long story that is best told over a bottle of gin. Go home. I'll help Alice and I'll see you Thursday if not before. It'll be strange not speaking to you every day."

  "When's your day off?" I asked impetuously. It would be odd to not see her.

  "Next Monday. I'll see you then as well. Now, go." She leaned over the bar and gave me a quick peck and then Jackson. "Take care of her; she's precious."

  "I will," Jackson said, threading his arm around my waist and leading me outside to the taxi rank. "I'm not asking you if you're staying at mine tonight. We're heading there now. I know you have stuff there from last weekend but if you want to pick more up we can do that."

  The taxi set off, plowing its way through the still busy London roads. "I'm good. I was going to be meeting you there anyway so I have extra bits in my handbag. I'm so sorry you had to see that with Richard."

  "Why are you apologizing?" Any touching Jackson scrimped on before was being made up for. His hands kept me pulled in to him; usually, I'd have found it too much, but tonight I seemed to crave it, which in turn made me anxious.

  "Because I should've been braver and started proceedings against Richard before this week. Why did I let it go on for this long? I knew we were over and there was no way we could still run a business together – his lack of effort was part of the reason I became distant from him emotionally," I stopped, reigning in my rant.

  "Let's talk when we get in," he said. "But you have to remember when we're talking that it is all going to be sorted out. In a few weeks' time, he will be out of your life for good so you really don't have to worry about anything."

  I inhaled his aftershave and pecked a kiss on his shoulder, wondering how long it would be before he came to his senses and realized just how much baggage I was carrying from a six-year relationship with a man who had never had a clue how to even be partners, let alone try and help me. Not that I needed help. I sat up, moving my head away. How long would it take before I relied on him and then it ended?

  "Can you drop me at mine?" I said. "I think I want to be on my own after everything that's happened."

  "No."

  "What?"

  "We're nearly at my house. Come in, have a drink, talk and then I'll call you a cab home or take you there myself." There was no other reaction, he didn't try to put his arm around me again or debate my complete U-turn. I'd changed my mind that fast I'd left skid marks and a car crash in my wake.

  He paid the driver and I followed him into his home, everything as I remembered it from the previous weekend. It felt familiar and part of me ached to clamor into his big bed, cry my eyes out with tears I hadn't shed for nearly twelve months and let Jackson hold me, but that was part of the problem: I didn't let people hold me; I held them.

  "Tea?" Jackson said, switching on the kettle. "My cleaner's left fresh milk."

  "No, yes – I'm not sure..."

  "It's just tea, Vanessa."

  "It's not just tea. I'll sit down and drink it and tell you why I'm acting as if I have multiple personality disorder..."

  "Is that still a recognized diagnosis?"

  "I think so... Fuck. Yes, tea please."

  He moved about the kitchen with ease, even finding chocolate in his fridge. We said nothing; my eyes drifting from Jackson in the kitchen still wearing his tux to the city's skyline.

  "Here," he said, putting a mug of tea and a bowl of sugar next to me on the kitchen island. "There's chocolate. It's my guilty pleasure. I'll just do extra reps tomorrow."

  I added a spoonful and took a few blocks of the chocolate. I said nothing, unsure of where to start or just to put my heels back on and head home.

  "At this moment in time, I want you just to think of me as being your lawyer," Jackson said finally. "That I'm your legal representative so you can own the business fully and sell the apartment you own together."

  "You know everything."

  "I know what you have on paper. I know the financials. I know Richard has refused to engage in communication with you on both matters, despite you having made him very reasonable offers to buy the business and for you to take a loss if he was to buy you out of the apartment. But if I'm going to sit in court or mediation as your representative, knowing how difficult he's made things for you will help you have a better outcome and see him walking away with his tail not just between his legs, but cut off and stuffed up his ass." Jackson sat down next to me, a mug of tea that looked as dark as the Thames itself in front of him.

  "Before I found out about him and Charlotte we'd become increasingly distant," I began. I could see Jackson's perspective. I also knew I could tell him the story and walk away, no need to rely on him for anything other than as my lawyer. "I was working excessively; the creative and the business side. He was involved in two other businesses, both owned by his dad and one he'd started himself involving recruitment."

  "Which has now folded leaving him with quite a lot of debt," Jackson added.

  "I didn't know that but I'm not surprised. Richard was given the marketing business by his father and told to run it otherwise his allowance would be cut off. His dad was fed up with him being an inheritance fund kid. He did his master's degree as a way to appease his dad and I suppose when he met me, he had an easy solution. But as I became busier, I became more resentful towards him, that I was putting in the effort and making the business successful, and he was spending most of his time at the other companies or on the golf course or with friends from his school. I came home early one afternoon as the heel of my shoe had broken and I needed to change outfits and shoes to see a potential new client. He was in bed with Charlotte who was the office manager at one of his father's companies."

  "What did he say?"

  "'It's not what it looks like.' Seriously, he couldn't even come up with something remotely witty. I wasn't hurt. I didn't love him anymore, if I ever did. It was more the hassle because I had been so comfortable and as much as he was a waste of space in the business, it meant I could run things as I pleased. I gave it five weeks, trying to remember what I loved about him in the first place, but I couldn't even bring myself to have sex with him. I moved into Sophie's: she'd been telling me to leave him anyway and it took about a week before he started begging me to come back. I considered it, but then Alice told me she'd seen Richard out in a restaurant with Charlotte the day I told her I was considering returning. I questioned him and he denied it, but by then I knew I'd be lying to
myself if I went back. I could manage without loving him; I didn't want kids with him, I was too career focused, but I needed to respect him and feel he was my equal. Then I understood I hadn't felt like that for years, if ever, and I'd probably used him as it was an easy way into running my own marketing firm." I took a sip of my tea and nibbled on the chocolate.

  "What did he do when you didn't go back?"

  "Cried. Pleaded. Emotional blackmail. Threats to ruin the business, hurt himself – not that I ever think he was serious. He couldn't understand why someone like me had left someone like him. I have the voicemails he left and the text messages he sent. I tried to not communicate directly with him as he was never ready to listen or take on board my perspective."

  "And you buried yourself in work."

  "It was productive and the company has flown in the past twelve months."

  "Has Richard ever been violent towards you?"

  I shook my head. "No. He's made threats when he's been drunk – I've several voicemails with those threats on – but he'd never followed through. He's all talk. It doesn't mean that what he would say didn't upset me or scare me, but I never thought he was serious."

  "We're going to the police tomorrow. I think after tonight we should apply for a restraining order against him as I suspect as he realizes you are getting away from him; he will become more aggressive towards you. He's all about control, Vanessa," Jackson said, breaking off some of the chocolate for himself.

  "You think he's been controlling me?"

  "Why haven't you had a relationship since you've broken up and don't say it was because you were broken-hearted, because you've just said you didn't love him."

  I remembered it was never a good idea to argue with a lawyer. "I was worried about the repercussions." The confession was a difficult one for me. "That if he knew I was dating he'd make life difficult for me personally and professionally. So yes, I suppose he's been controlling me."

  "How do you feel now?" Jackson said, breaking off yet more chocolate. He offered me a piece and I happily took it.