Chapter 34
CODY’s POV
The sound of my fists colliding with the punching bag echoed through the gym.
But it was not loud enough to overshadow the screaming thoughts that raged through my mind.
My vest was drenched in sweat, my chest heaved with every punch I drove into the bag, each strike harder than the last.
It wasn't about fitness anymore, hadn't been for a while now. just needed something to fucking hit.
I wasn't paying attention to the tv, the sounds seemed to blur in the background; but as I was about to throw another hit, I heard her name.
The name that had haunted my every waking moment; the name that ruined my fucking mood just at the sound of it.
My eyes flicked up, and there she was- those defiant emerald eyes staring back at me. Always daring.
Always challenging.
I gritted my teeth as I read the headline- "Tech guru Imani Rodriguez plans to establish an NGO."
Then a clip popped up, it was her again, but this time, she looked different. From all the articles, blogs and interviews I have seen of her, her hair always fell flat to the sides of her face.
But, this time, it was tucked behind her ear. And her lips, they weren’t the usual blood red… it was a lighter shade, It made her look softer in some way. It was clearly just a tactic to mislead people into believing she had their best interest at heart.
Fucking bullshit. I could see through her.
I picked up the remote and increased the volume, "-New York is a city filled with opportunities but not enough resources, and I plan to change that." The words rolled off her tongue in a way that could have only been practiced.
"This NGO would be a chance to do that." The smile on her lips was clearly a mask. A way to deceive the press that she was a saint. A philanthropist. Someone that gave a shit about the masses.
She was probably worse than the rest of us. And I would expose her soon enough.
The knock on the door drew my attention from the screen.
“Come in.” I barked.
The maid walked in, bowing slightly. “Sir, your driver is waiting.”
I glanced at the clock. It was 9pm. He would have gotten there already.
I grabbed a towel, wiped the sweat from my face, and left the gym to freshen up.
By the time I arrived at Hamilton Club, the usual crowd had already begun to trickle in; but the man I came for sat in the far corner, just as I expected.
Damien Skye.
A cigar burned lazily between his fingers as he sat back, exuding an aura even I couldn’t deny.
“Didn’t think you’d actually show up,” I said, sliding into the seat across from him.
He exhaled a cloud of smoke, “I contemplated.”
A smirk tugged at my lips. “Still not a fan of crowds, huh?”
He ignored that, taking another drag.
“How’s your mother?” I asked.
“Thriving,” he said simply.
“Expected nothing less from her.” I smirked, “That’s why I’ve always loved her.”
I waved to the waiter. “Two whiskeys.”
As the glasses arrived, I leaned back. “So, Asia. How was it?”
He rolled the cigar between his fingers. “Peaceful.”
“Then why’d you come back to all this chaos?”
He took a slow sip of whiskey. “A project. I’ll be gone the second it’s over.”
I chuckled. “If I could run away to, I would.” I said in a light hearted tone.
But there was some truth in it, however small.
He glanced at me. “I heard you’re getting married. To Audrey.”
My jaw tightened.
I brought the glass to my lips, taking time to respond, “It’s not set in stone yet.”
He arched a brow, “Is that so?”
“Even if we do, it’s nothing unexpected.” I leaned back, “We’ve been together for a long time. It’s… what’s expected.”
“Whose expectations?” he asked quietly. “Theirs, or yours?”
Has it ever been mine?
I looked at him, half a smile forming on my lips, “You’d understand when you have to get married.”
He scoffed. “Marriage isn’t for me.”
I laughed. “So there was no special girl in Asia that caught your attention?”
He gave a low hum. “Not enough to marry them.”
In that moment, my mind raced back to the anniversary event. Back to her.
The way his hands held her waist. The way she looked at him like he was the only person in the world that mattered in that moment.
My knuckles tightened around the glass as downed the remnants, the burn spreading in my chest.
“So how about here? In New York?” I asked, my voice tight.
“Like I said,” he muttered, “I’m here for a project. Not matchmaking.”
“It seemed like you were really interested in that bitch from Europe.”
His brows drew together. “Who?”
“Imani Rodriguez.” I spat her name out like it was acid on my tongue.
He tilted his head, studying me. “I find her… intriguing. Nothing more.”
I scoffed, pouring another glass of whisky, “She looked like she was throwing herself at you. Fucking whore.”
He watched me carefully, replying with silence.
“What?” I asked, my tone sharper than I intended.
He waited a moment before asking, “Are you interested in her?”
I froze for a second, then barked a laugh. “In that bitch? I’m out of her fucking league. All she does is irritate me.”
He said nothing after that, he only hummed, taking another drag of his cigar.
Me? Interested in Imani? Fuck no.
The only thing I was interested in was finding a way to chase her back to Europe.
I steered the topic away, “Your mum’s going to be on your ass soon enough.”
“She’s too busy with the company to care.” He replied flatly.
“One thing we still have in common,” I said with a faint smile. “Parents who barely give a shit.”
He smirked faintly, finally showing some sort of emotion on his face. “Probably the only thing.”
I paused, my smile fading. “We’ve both changed a bit, haven’t we?”
He looked up, his eyes darkening, “Anyone would… after what we did.”
The words hit me like an anvil.
My hand tightened around the glass. “We swore never to speak of it again,” I hissed.
He rose, flicking the ash from his cigar. “How long are you going to pretend it never happened?”
I laughed bitterly, “Says the person that fled the fucking country because of it.”
His gaze hardened, like I had struck a nerve, “We cannot run forever.”
“Damien–”
“One day,” he said, his voice low and final, “we’ll all reap what we sowed, Cody.”
And then he walked away, leaving the scent of smoke and whiskey behind.
For a long time, I didn’t move.
Then I downed the last of my drink and hurled the glass against the wall. It shattered into a thousand tiny pieces, but I won’t end up that way.
That part of my life had been buried. As far as I’m concerned, it didnt fucking exist.
And I’d do anything to make sure it stays that way.
Anything.