Chapter 90
Richard's POV
The alarm on my phone jerked me awake at 6 AM. I groaned and rolled over, my body still on Washington D.C. time. The hotel room in Seattle felt unfamiliar and cold. I'd arrived just four hours ago on a red-eye flight from the East Coast, and my body ached for more sleep. But duty called.
I grabbed my phone and texted my assistant. "Find me a good restaurant for tomorrow. Something with organic food. For someone recovering."
The response came almost instantly. "Already on it, Mr. Pierce. Several options lined up for your approval by noon."
At least someone was efficient in my life. I dragged myself to the shower, letting the hot water beat down on my shoulders. The steam filled the bathroom as I thought about Claire. My fiancée. The woman I was supposed to marry in three months. The woman who'd been in a serious car accident while I was stuck in D.C.
The guilt hit me again, sharp and insistent. I should have come back immediately when I heard about the accident. What kind of man doesn't rush to his fiancée's side? The kind whose father is James Pierce, that's who. The kind whose absence from crucial congressional hearings might cost his father a cabinet position.
"The hearings will be over in four days," my father had said, his voice cold over the phone. "Claire is stable. The Stantons have excellent medical care. Don't be unprofessional, Richard."
Unprofessional. That was the worst insult in my father's vocabulary.
I turned off the water and grabbed a towel, wiping the steam from the mirror to look at myself. Tired hazel eyes stared back. I looked like shit. Four days of intense questioning about regulatory policies had left dark circles under my eyes. Claire wouldn't appreciate seeing me like this.
Claire Stanton. The perfect match on paper. Harvard Business School graduate. Beautiful, intelligent, from one of the most powerful families in the Pacific Northwest. Our engagement had made the business pages of every major newspaper. "Power Couple Set to Unite Political and Business Dynasties," they'd called us.
What they didn't print was how little we actually knew each other. How our engagement was more of a business merger than a love match. How her father, William Stanton, had reservations about me because of the complicated Stanton family dynamics. How my father had reservations about her because the Stantons were "new money" compared to us, only three generations of wealth instead of five.
My phone buzzed. My father.
"Did you arrive safely?" No greeting, typical.
"Yes, just got in a few hours ago."
"Good. Don't forget you're representing me at the university event today. The dean is expecting you at 11."
I closed my eyes. "I remember. I'll be there."
"Make sure to mention the library donation in your speech. And Richard?"
"Yes?"
"Find out how badly Claire is actually injured. The Stantons are being tight-lipped, and I don't like it."
The call ended before I could respond. I threw the phone onto the bed and continued dressing. My father's suspicion never rested, not even when it came to my fiancée's car accident.
I thought back to when I'd first heard about Claire's accident. I'd been preparing for the hearings when my assistant rushed in with the news. My first reaction wasn't concern—it was annoyance that this would complicate my schedule. What did that say about our relationship?
Claire and I had been engaged, and we still felt like strangers. We'd gone through all the motions—expensive dinners, strategic public appearances, carefully selected gifts. I'd given her a flawless three-carat diamond ring. She'd given me a limited edition watch. Both gifts were perfectly appropriate and completely impersonal.
When I called her after the accident, her voice had been calm and collected. "I'm fine, Richard. Just some cuts and bruises. No need to disrupt your hearings." That was Claire—always in control, never showing weakness. It had irritated me, her complete lack of need for me.
My assistant called as I was knotting my tie.
"Mr. Pierce, your schedule today is quite full. The university ceremony starts at 11, lunch with the dean at 1, then the tech industry roundtable at 3. Should I confirm your dinner with Ms. Stanton for tomorrow instead of today?"
"Yes, make it tomorrow. Lunch, not dinner. And make sure the restaurant has private seating."
"Of course. Any specific cuisine preferences?"
"Something with organic food, suitable for someone recovering. Nothing too heavy." I paused. "And make sure there's a good wine list."
I needed alcohol to get through a lunch with Claire, especially after not seeing her since the accident. Our relationship was built on mutual benefits, not emotions, but I still felt guilty. I should have been there.
The university event was as boring as expected. I stood in for my father, smiling and shaking hands with academics who wanted to talk about politics. I delivered the standard speech about the importance of education and announced my father's donation to the library's acquisition fund. The audience clapped politely, and I mentally checked the box on my duties for the day.
During a brief break, I stepped outside for a cigarette. The November air was crisp, and a light drizzle fell from gray clouds. Seattle weather, predictable in its gloom.
"If it isn't my future brother-in-law."
I turned to see Nathan Stanton leaning against a column, watching me with that smirk that never seemed to leave his face. Nathan was Claire's half-brother, the fifth child of William Stanton, born to one of his mistresses before being legitimized. Despite his complicated position in the family, he and Claire were surprisingly close.
"Nathan. Didn't expect to see you here." I took a drag of my cigarette, eyeing him warily.