19 - RIP

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Monty would like nothing better than to stroll into Whitby Enterprises headquarters in ripped jeans. Instead, he dressed in a well-tailored suit. He left some scruff on his face with the plan to grow a beard. His father hated anything less than a clean shave.

Sofia, who had stayed over another night, smiled at him. "You look sharp. Are you going to a funeral?"

"Yeah, mine. I have a meeting with my father."

She hugged herself. "Did the room just get colder?"

"Everyone knows there is little love between me and old Montgomery. I'm surprised you didn't hear all about it in the kitchen."

Sofia frowned. "You look handsome." She touched his whiskered covering cheek. "I like this."

It was only two days of growth, but when grown in, he had a thick beard. Her fingers were warm and their soft touch reminded him of how starved he was for attention. He smiled and stepped away, resisting the urge to hold her hand against his cheek. He wanted to feel a human connection. Five minutes with Trey's wife or the women he paid didn't provide anything but a release.

All his reasons for avoiding a nonbusiness arrangement with women had evaporated with the romance between Sloane and the slugger. He could wait for it to fizzle out, but she had moved in with him. Sloane would never make such a move on a whim. He had to move on but didn't know how. First, he would face his father.

"I'll be gone awhile." He had an appointment with his therapist, in the afternoon. Discussing Montgomery would dominate the hour. "Are you going to stick around?"

She shook her head. "I need to figure out what I'm doing with the rest of my life."

He frowned. "Stay. We'll take you out to eat. Go home after dinner or in the morning."

"You really don't want to get rid of me?"

He shook his head. "It's nice having someone to talk to besides the oaf."

Gray was still asleep. His second shake down of the sleazebag had been effective, but it resurrected some of Gray's old demons. Monty had repaid the favor and worked out with his friend half the night. Gray didn't talk about it, but sometimes he preferred to wait until the sun came up for the day to sleep.

Monty glanced at his watch. "I'll be late if I don't leave now."

Sofia waved to him. "Go. I'll text you later."

"Stay."

Why did he want her to stay so badly? Because she had interrupted the monotony. She made him take a break from writing, which he hadn't given himself since he returned from their trip. He was ready to start a new itinerary but feared Montgomery would screw with his travel schedule.

The Whitby headquarters was in one of the skyscrapers creating the skyline of downtown Boston near the Prudential Center. He stopped in the lobby. The young girl behind the desk looked up at him. He wondered if his father knew her name. Maybe he knew a lot more than her name. Sour hit his tongue from his own thoughts.

"May I help you?"

"I have an appointment with Mr. Whitby."

She eyed him suspiciously as she picked up the phone receiver. "Name, please."

"Montgomery Whitby."

"I mean your name."

He cracked one of his perfect white teeth smiles. "I'm Montgomery Whitby."

"Oh! I'm sorry, Mr. Whitby." She tried to stand but was tangled on something under her desk. She awkwardly fell back into her seat.

"Are you okay? Do you need assistance?"

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