Chapter 86
Derek POV
I woke up alone, tangled in the sheets of my apartment. Morning light filtered through the half-drawn curtains, casting long shadows across the room. My mind drifted first to last morning's tense interaction with Eleanor—delivering breakfast to her door, the charged conversation in my car when I'd driven her to work—and then back further, and then back to that morning at Blue Mountain Reserve just two days ago.
The memory came in vivid flashes: dawn breaking over the mountain ridge, painting the sky in watercolor strokes of amber and rose. Eleanor standing beside me on that secluded outcropping, her honey-blonde hair catching the first light, her green eyes wide with surprise when I pulled her close. The taste of her lips, cool from the mountain air but warming beneath mine. The way she had trembled against me.
"I've fallen in love with you," I had said. The words had escaped before I could catch them, hanging in the frigid air between us.
I still saw her face—the shock that had widened her eyes, the brief moment of vulnerability before she kissed me back with an intensity that matched my own. Then just as suddenly, the wall coming down as she'd pulled away, refusing to discuss what had happened between us.
I pressed the heels of my palms against my eyes, as if I could physically push the memory away. What the hell was wrong with me? I'd spent three years keeping Eleanor at arm's length, and now, when our divorce was almost finalized, I was chasing her like a lovesick adolescent.
My phone chimed with a text from Alan, my assistant, reminding me of a nine o'clock meeting. I showered quickly, dressed in a tailored charcoal suit, and headed to the office.
---
Frontier Capital's Boston office occupied the top floor of a sleek glass tower in the financial district. Floor-to-ceiling windows offered panoramic views of the harbor, though I barely noticed them anymore. Alan was waiting by my office door, tablet in hand, looking like he'd been there for hours.
"The Tech Innovations merger documents are ready for your signature," he said, following me into my office. "And the quarterly reports from the London office came in overnight."
I nodded, taking the papers he held out. "Anything else?"
Alan cleared his throat. "Just a reminder that tomorrow is the 18th. You and Mrs. Wells are scheduled to collect the divorce decree at the courthouse at ten."
I froze, my pen hovering over the signature line of the merger agreement. The 18th. Tomorrow. How had time slipped away so quickly?
"I'm aware of the date," I said, my voice sharper than intended. Alan had been with me for five years—he knew better than to bring up Eleanor unless absolutely necessary.
"Right." Alan shifted uncomfortably. "Also, Mr. Brown from Meridian Pharmaceuticals confirmed dinner for eight tonight."
I signed the document with more force than necessary. "You don't need to remind me about personal matters, Alan. That's overstepping."
"Of course, sir. My apologies." He retreated, closing the door quietly behind him.
Alone again, I turned to the window, staring at Boston's skyline without really seeing it. Tomorrow would mark the official end of a marriage I'd never wanted, with a woman I couldn't stop thinking about. The irony wasn't lost on me.
---
I worked late, burying myself in the Tech Innovations merger details, welcoming the distraction from thoughts of Eleanor and tomorrow's court appearance. I glanced at my watch—nearly eight o'clock. I was running late for the dinner with Meridian executives.
By the time I left for Sterling's, it was already past eight. I texted a quick apology for my tardiness as I headed to the elevator. The private dining room was dimly lit, perfect for the kind of deals that happened over aged whiskey and prime steaks. Mr. Brown was already there with his team, all impeccably dressed and politely masking any annoyance at my delay.
"Mr. Wells," he greeted me, rising from his seat. "A pleasure to finally meet you in person."
I shook his hand firmly. "Sorry for being late. The pleasure's mine. I've been following Meridian's expansion into biopharmaceuticals with interest."
We settled into business talk, the conversation flowing as smoothly as the Macallan 25 they'd ordered. Chen was outlining his vision for Meridian's future when my phone vibrated in my pocket. I discreetly checked the screen and felt my pulse quicken—Eleanor's name and photo appeared on the display.
"Excuse me," I said, unable to keep a note of eagerness from my voice. "I need to take this. It's..." I hesitated, searching for the right words. "It's an important person."
He nodded understandingly, and I stepped into the hallway, pressing the phone to my ear.
"Eleanor," I answered, my voice softer than it had been all day.
"Derek." Her voice was calm, controlled. No hint of the passion we'd shared on the mountain. "I'm calling about tomorrow."
I leaned against the wall, loosening my tie slightly. "I've been hoping you'd call."
"I think we could meet at the courthouse at ten tomorrow, to collect the divorce decree," she continued, ignoring my comment. "I just wanted to confirm you'll be there."
Something in me snapped at her businesslike tone. "So everything I said to you on that mountain means nothing? Is that it?"
"Derek—"
"I told you I wouldn't let you go so easily. I told you that you're mine." My voice dropped lower, more intense. "You dare to say you don't feel anything for me? I felt it, Eleanor. When you kissed me, your entire being was with me. You need me. You want me. You want to be mine. Do you think I can't feel that?"
There was a heavy silence on the line.
"We're getting finally divorced tomorrow, Derek," she finally said, her voice carefully neutral. "That's all I'm calling about."
"And you're avoiding the question," I countered. "Just like you've been avoiding me since the mountain."
Another pause. "Are you coming tomorrow or not?"
I hadn't planned what I was about to say, but the words formed themselves. "I can't make it tomorrow. I have to fly to London tomorrow morning. There's a situation with the European office that requires my immediate attention."
The lie slipped out easily, surprising even me.
"London?" She didn't sound suspicious, just resigned. "Tomorrow morning?"
"Five AM flight," I elaborated, the fabrication expanding. "The company jet is already being prepared. It can't be helped."
There was a long pause. I expected her to call me out, to accuse me of avoiding the inevitable.
Instead, she simply said, "I hope your trip goes well."
Her civil response only fueled my frustration. "That's it? 'I hope your trip goes well'? You don't even care enough to argue with me anymore?"
"What do you want me to say, Derek?" The weariness in her voice was evident. "Good luck with your meetings. Let me know when you're back in Boston."
"I'll handle the divorce paperwork as soon as I return," I said, my jaw tight with unexpressed anger.
"Fine," she conceded. "Safe travels."
The call ended abruptly, leaving me standing alone in the hallway, staring at my phone screen, fury building in my chest. Her indifference was worse than any argument.
I hadn't planned on going to London, but now that I'd said it, the idea took root. Why not? It would give me time to clear my head, to figure out what I really wanted.