The Devil's Storm Page 2

  Air crackled over the line. Adrian took the phone away from his

  ear to ensure Lee didn’t hang upon him.

  “I see you’re active on our server,” Lee finally started in a dry monotone.

  Adrian scoffed. “You put a tracker out?”

  “Absolutely,” his brother responded cooly. “I’d be an idiot not to.”

  “That’s true. You would be…But since you’re tracking, you’ll know all I’m doing is checking emails.

  “Those emails might contain sensitive company information.”

  “Hmmm. I’m sure they do. I’m surprised I.T. hasn’t stripped my credentials. Wonder why they’d leave a former VP’s system access available a year after his resignation?” Adrian challenged. Lee didn’t answer at first. There was a long, awkward pause. There was no reason to leave his accounts up and running, other than to track his activity. Would Lee try to accuse him of corporate espionage or some such nonsense?

  Adrian liked to think the answer was a resounding ‘no’, but it made sense. Lee had plenty of motive to try to get back at him.

  Then his brother changed the subject. “How’s Madeleine?”

  Adrian’s mouth fell and guilt washed over him. It had been months since their divorce proceedings, and Madeleine hadn’t spoken to Lee since.

  He swallowed hard, his mouth suddenly going dry. “She’s good,” he said. “I mean, I think she’s pretty happy.”

  “You think or you know?”

  “She’s happy, Lee,” Adrian snapped in response. And then he took a deep breath, calmed himself, and continued. “She’s smiling. A lot. And she’s making plans for the future, whether it’s for the house or new book ideas, or—”

  “Or having a life with you.”

  Adrian sighed. Naturally, Lee wouldn’t make it any easier. “Yes. That too.”

  “Do you seriously think you’re going to be any better at making her happy?” Lee challenged.

  Adrian laughed. “You’re kidding, right? Why are you really calling me at two a.m.? Because it’s not to prevent corporate espionage and I doubt you care that much about Madeleine—”

  “We would still be married if—”

  “If you hadn’t cheated on her? If you had been there for her?”

  Adrian interrupted. “Those better be the next words coming out of your mouth because the answer to your question is this — I’ll make her a hell of a lot happier just being present. Which was something you refused to do.”

  Adrian felt his blood boiling as a long silence stifled the conversation. But he wouldn’t let it get the best of him. He didn’t want to fight with Lee, but this was inevitable. Whether they spoke another word after this phone call, this confrontation needed to happen.

  “You know, the worst thing about all of this,” Lee returned, his demeanor frigid, “is the fact that we sat there in your office the day you resigned, and you wouldn’t tell me why you were leaving.”

  There it was—just one of the many regrets Adrian had about the way he’d handled leaving his family. Not once did he doubt that he and Madeleine belonged together, but he wished he’d been more honest with Lee. Honesty wouldn’t have salvaged their relationship or family, but Adrian knew that he should have manned up and told Lee he was in love with Madeleine.

  “I should have told you. I was wrong for that,” Adrian admitted.

  “You were wrong for every damned thing.”

  “I’m not saying any of it was right,” Adrian stammered in defense.

  “So why did you do it?”

  He gave a single syllable laugh despite himself as the tension rose from his chest to his neck. The air was getting hot and suffocating, but he answered anyway “Because I love her. And lucky for me, she loves me too.”

  “Simple as that, huh?” Adrian heard the sneer, the anger rising in his brother’s voice and he pictured his reddening face.

  “Simple as that.”

  “Mr. Atwood? Mr. Harrison and Mr. Harrison will see you now.”

  The receptionist’s voice jolted him back to reality. He was more nervous than ever. He turned to the secretary. She was a middle-aged woman trying too hard to look like she was still in her twenties. “Wait—Harrison? As in the CEO and VP?” he managed in a raspy breath as he stood from his chair in the waiting area. Two brothers ran Harrison Aerospace, and from what he heard, they made a great team. Adrian thought Madeleine would appreciate the irony much

  more than he did.

  “That’s them,” she chimed in a tone to cover her annoyance with

  the question. She didn’t even look up from the file she’d been

  putting away.

  Adrian exhaled. “Damn,” he began. Why would he interview with the company founders for an engineering job? Did they get confused when they looked at his resume? Adrian gathered his wits and portfolio and headed toward the office door when they both flung open, revealing two men much older than his father, both of them thin and almost completely bald, and smiling from ear to ear.

  “Well, I’ll be damned, Ben. I owe you a lunch,” the taller one started. The shorter one — who also must have been the youngest Harrison, laughed in response. “I told you it was him.”

  Adrian was too dumbstruck to say anything professional. “Hi, I’m Adrian,” he offered in a monotone gloss. He reminded himself to stick out his hand to greet them with a handshake. The taller gentleman—David, if memory served—shook his hand with a smile.

  “We had to see if it was really you,” he explained. “Benny here insisted you were the Adrian Atwood, and I said there was no way the Adrian Atwood would come to interview here at our little company.”

  Now he was even more confused. “Um…the Adrian Atwood?”

  The Harrisons’ eyes met as they smiled. “Come on in, son. Let’s get this show on the road.”

  What in the world was going on? Adrian swallowed, and followed the Harrisons into their office.

  Chapter Three

  Lee had found that the busier he kept himself, the less likely he was to drink. Or think about Madeleine. Or his brother.

  All of which were things he had (mostly) avoided like the plague for the past year of his life. Staying busy worked. The company was running like a well-oiled machine. Profits were up, the business was expanding into new territories, and while there were a few who had hoped Adrian would’ve been the one to step up as CEO, people weren’t complaining about his leadership when they saw the results.

  In the few hours a day, he wasn’t working or sleeping, he was at the gym. While Lee had never taken any pleasure in exercise before, he found that once he got into a habit of it, he actually looked forward to going. Between giving up alcohol and taking care of himself, he had dropped back down to the weight he was when he and Madeleine first met (love always makes people pack on the pounds) and if ego wasn’t making him imagine it, muscle definition may have no longer been a faded memory of his past.

  But it was moments like this one, stuck waiting on his therapist—the man was always running behind—he actually had to think and feel. Idle hands were certainly the devil’s workshop. Any time there was a lull, his mind went straight to Madeleine. Sometimes he just wondered about everyday things—what was she doing? Where was she, exactly? He knew all about the house in Savannah—and he assumed Adrian had moved right in with her, as much as it pained him to acknowledge the fact.

  And from there his mind went wild—his brother touching his wife, kissing his wife— no, they were divorced. She wasn’t his wife anymore. And he was so much better off for it, right? He didn’t need Madeleine Atwood. Madeleine McCollum. Whatever she preferred to be called now that she certainly wasn’t a Mrs. Lee Atwood.

  Then why did he miss her so much?

  And why did it hurt so bad knowing the fact that she’d be a Madeline Atwood again in time? As much as he prayed for their absolute romantic ruination, Lee knew. Adrian would marry her, and he would be the perfect, dedicated, loving husband that he never could be. And the
day that happened, it would kill him.

  “Lee Atwood? Is that you?” Henry Moore started as he whisked into his office. “I think I’ve forgotten what you looked like, man.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” Lee muttered with a wry smile. “I know. I shouldn’t have canceled.”

  “You’ve been busy apparently,” Henry continued as he took a seat across from Lee and gathered his legal pad and pen in his lap.

  “Um, yeah. I was in Tokyo last week at a conference and visiting our offices in Seattle the week before, so…lots going on,” Lee explained.

  “You know, we can always Skype. I can pencil you in for a time that works,” Henry offered. “But enough of that. Other than busy, how have you been?”

  Lee bit the inside of his lip. Did he tell Henry what was on his mind? Or did he pretend everything was fine? And Henry knew. “You might as well say it. You’re paying me to help you work through anything bothering you.”

  It was always hard opening up at first. “Do you know what today is?”

  Henry Moore looked up over his legal pad. “Do you mean the date, or is there something significant going on today?”

  Lee rolled his eyes. “Of course you know.”

  “I have an idea. But I’d like you to tell me about it. In your words,” Henry continued in a low, soothing tone.

  Lee let out a sigh, but there was no point in trying to beat around the bush. “Today’s the day Madeleine tried to kill herself.”

  “That’s a very significant day,” Henry replied, looking him straight in the eye while scribbling on the legal pad. “How does it make you feel?”

  “Anxious. Almost as if it’s going to happen again. I know that’s not logical but...it’s completely snuck up on me. I was sitting in a meeting yesterday and when I looked down at the date on the agenda, it finally hit me. I kept thinking that if I had gotten my shit together on July 11, maybe July 12 wouldn’t have happened. If I had just come home where I wanted to be anyway, Maddie never would have done it. And maybe we’d still be married. By now, we might have worked through all our problems.”

  “Madeleine was very depressed, Lee. We’ve talked about this.

  There’s no guarantee that even if you were there—”

  “Oh, well, not that it matters. From what I hear, she’s just grand now,” Lee scoffed.

  Henry looked up with a raised brow. “From what you hear? Have you spoken to her yet?”

  Lee crossed his arms like an irked child. “No,” he admitted in a grumble.

  “This was a goal you set, several sessions ago, yes? You wanted to show you’re still supportive of her, even if you’re not married.”

  “I know,” Lee admitted, now more on-edge than ever. “But why would she ever want to talk to me? It’s been over a year since we’ve even spoken. We’re divorced. I’m sure all she wants to do is move on with her life.”

  “So… how do you know she’s happy? Or are we just assuming?”

  Lee pursed his lips before speaking. Henry had never made him feel as if he were being judged, but he wondered if the man’s professionalism had a limit. “I called Adrian,” he admitted.

  Henry cocked his head to the side. “Really?”

  Lee narrowed his gaze. “Yes,” he started, his tone already betraying a hint of annoyance.

  “You’ve been angry with Adrian, and last we spoke, you were still processing everything that happened between the two of you. That makes me curious why you would call him, rather than Madeleine.”

  Lee shrugged. “It was a business matter. He was logging on to the company webmail, which could directly violate his resignation agreement.”

  Henry nodded, but behind that trained, neutral face, he was skeptical. Lee saw it plain as day. “So, as CEO, you felt it was important to deal with this personally?”

  “He was the vice president. Any email he may receive could contain very sensitive company information,” Lee defended, using the same weak excuse he had to call Adrian.

  “I see. But I’m guessing from remarks you made earlier that the conversation did not remain professional.”

  Lee swallowed. “Got any water?” he asked, throat going dry.

  Henry stood and walked to a mini-fridge in the corner of his

  office and retrieved a bottle of water for his patient. Lee thanked him and chugged half the bottle before continuing the conversation. He knew what question was next—why he really called Adrian—and he needed time to think about it because Lee still hadn’t figured it

  out himself.

  “I don’t know,” Lee stated. “Before you even ask. I don’t know why I called Adrian. It’s not like I was ready to speak to him, I just…I guess I needed to know why. Why did the person I trusted above everyone else have to take my wife away from me?”

  “Again, Madeleine made that choice. It was her decision to make.”

  Henry was right. But Lee’s mind wanted things to be more black and white—Guinevere was not Lancelot’s for the taking. She was King Arthur’s wife and Queen. That’s how the story was supposed to go. And it hurt that the plot hadn’t ended in his favor.

  “Do you want to know why he said he did it?” Lee asked, voice cracking from the dryness in his throat. He took another sip of water. “It’s sickeningly simple.”

  “Tell me."

  “He says he did it because he loves her. Because he loves her. So from that elaborate explanation, all I can wonder is if he never once thought about what this might do to me. Or to our parents, because they’re not good, either. My mother is a wreck and my father is barely speaking to me as if his son disappearing from his life is my fault. Because all that mattered to Adrian was the fact that he loves Maddie. Fuck the rest of us.”

  Henry nodded, and then leaned forward, putting his legal pad to the side. “And how did you respond to all this?”

  Lee remembered the way he’d felt that night. His blood had boiled, his heart ready to leap out of his chest. If he could have strangled Adrian at that moment he would have done so with pleasure. Instead, he’d done nothing but hang up the phone. When it came down to it, Lee knew he only had himself to blame. Acknowledging it out loud, speaking his guilt into existence, however, was a terrifying notion. It was a blow his pride would not withstand after being completely decimated over the past two years.

  Lee knew deep down that he’d lost Madeleine all on his own accord. Adrian had just been the one to catch her when she fell. And for Christ’s sake, could he really blame him for falling for

  Madeleine? Any man with real taste would.

  “I didn’t say a damned thing,” Lee confessed. “Because no matter how much it hurt, I know I brought it on myself.”

  Chapter Four

  Lee had long since established his pre-meeting rituals. He’d have a double whiskey on the rocks, on the comfy leather couch in his office if possible. He’d look at a set of notes he’d written the night before with particular points he needed to bring up, supporting statistics, and if needed, counterarguments. And then he’d walk through the entire thing through his head—how he would walk in, who he would greet first, where he would sit, and then his entire spiel he’d prepared, the arguments, and convincing everyone else he was right. He’d envision the others signing whatever contract, the bevy of handshakes from people who would respect the fact that his plans were solid.

  It worked in the business world, so Lee thought it would be best to try it with Madeleine.

  When he stopped drinking, he replaced his whiskey with sweet tea. It didn’t have the same effect as a double whiskey, but as long as the routine was in place, it did the trick. Lee planned on calling at 11:30. If Madeleine was still going by her normal schedule, she’d just be wrapping up her morning writing time. It was 11:20, giving him ten minutes to psych himself up enough to call his wife—ex-wife. He was always having to correct himself.

  He settled into his favorite spot on the leather sofa that overlooked the Atlanta skyline and took his first sip of sweet tea. Lee’s nerves were
taking over. He’d worked through billion-dollar deals with thousands of jobs on the line with less anxiety. The tea, made by his mother, who was more than happy to supply gallons at a time as long as it kept him from drinking, was too sweet, and the sugar did nothing for his nerves.

  He looked over his notes. He was hoping “Hi. I was just wanting to see how you are” was tantalizing enough for a conversation starter because he knew he’d been terrible and didn’t deserve another second of her time. If Madeleine said that, what was he supposed to say back? She would be right and there was no way to defend himself.

  Except for that whole thing about having an affair with his brother.

  His stomach flopped.

  “Jesus Christ,” he muttered, leaning forward and placing his elbows on his knees. It was then he noticed his hands were shaking. Lee clamped them over his knees and took a deep breath. “Man up and call her already.”

  Lee stood and put on his suit jacket and strolled over to his desk phone. He dialed her cell number—he certainly didn’t want to run the risk of having Adrian answer — and the first ring resonated in his ear. His heart was beating a steady double-time cadence of utter fear.

  Then came the second ring.

  “Don’t answer,” he said, daring the universe to rearrange fate otherwise.

  And then the ringing stopped. He heard the music she always played while she was writing. And then he heard her voice. “Lee?”

  Madeleine sounded surprised. She probably was. They hadn’t spoken a word since they finalized their divorce. “Hello?”

  He swallowed. “Hey,” he managed with a wince. It sounded too upbeat.

  “Well hello… Everything okay?”

  Why did she get to be the calm, collected one? “I just wanted to see how you were,” he stammered. “You know, considering what day it is… I’m sorry, I know I sound like an idiot.”

  “No,” Madeleine denied. “You don’t. I’m…I’m okay, I guess.”