Which Way the Wind Blows
folder
Romance › General
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
35
Views:
1,905
Reviews:
9
Recommended:
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Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Romance › General
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
35
Views:
1,905
Reviews:
9
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The Author holds exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited.
Chapter 32
Chapter 32
Warren took a long sip of his bottled water as he walked down Sixth Avenue and turned onto Central Park South. He had some misgivings about what he’d set out to do, but somehow they didn’t sway his course. He knew where to find the arrogant middle son of the Wainsworth clan. Hell, he dated Chris for six years. He knew the family’s habits almost as well as if he’d been born into it. The Wainsworths always stayed at a Ritz Carlton if there was one in town. In fact, the family corporation had an account with the hotel. And since Central Park was likely to be closer than the hotel’s location in Battery Park, Warren had a strong feeling he’d find Quentin there, probably staying in the biggest suite, despite him being the only one there, maybe even availing himself of the luxury spa while he waited for his father’s instructions. Their attitudes made him sick. They were largely the reason Chris hid his relationship with Warren. In his mind, they should share the blame.
Of course, what he was about to do was a complete reversal of how he’d handled the matter during the six years he and Chris were together. The ironic fact hadn’t escaped his notice. What was he hoping to gain here anyway? He stopped and tossed the empty plastic bottle into a curbside trash container then noted the sun’s glint off the pinky ring he now wore. When Chris left it the morning after they’d slept together, he knew the message the blonde was sending. Warren had changed in the years since he’d given it. Now, after time had passed and he’d thought about it, the dark-haired man had to ask that if he could change, why couldn’t Chris? And the blonde had seemed to change.
The old Chris never would have allowed something like a broken relationship to stand in the way of his future with “the company”, as he referred to his father’s business. He would have shrugged it off and moved on. But he didn’t. He faced up to his father and left the rich boy lifestyle. Only to be used and tossed off by his ex. Warren admitted to himself that he didn’t have to take Chris home with him that night. He could have let Kee put him in a cab and left it at that. Chris seemed to want to leave things alone, after all. The old Chris wouldn’t have let someone get away with humiliating that way without retribution. This one apparently wanted nothing to do with him, though. And now that he thought about it, Warren acknowledged that he was waiting for Chris to contact him … maybe even demand that Warren apologize. But nothing. So, in a way, he felt this would serve as some sort of apology for that night. Not that he expected Chris to find out about this, or be grateful for it even if he did. This was between Warren and his own conscience.
He straightened himself out and rolled his shoulders before striding into the hotel lobby and up to the front desk.
“May I help you?” a smartly dressed and well-groomed young man asked in a bland tone that revealed no accent whatsoever.
“Yes,” Warren smiled graciously back. “I was hoping to contact Mr. Quentin Wainsworth while he’s in town, but I’m not sure of his suite number.”
“Mr. Wainsworth,” the young man nodded with a frown. “I apologize, sir. But we cannot give out that information.”
“Oh, I didn’t think you could,” Warren nodded sagely. “I just hoped maybe you could ring his room and tell him that I’m here.”
“I’m not entirely sure he’s in his room.”
“I understand. You could leave him a message, though?”
The young man sighed softly as he took out a message pad to jot don the note. “Yes?” he asked coolly, looking up at Warren expectantly.
“Tell him that Warren Gaits will be in the hotel bar until …” Warren looked at his watch to check the time. “Ten pm.”
“Mr. Gaits. Ten pm,” the man said as he wrote.
“Please tell him that if I don’t meet with him by such time, I’m afraid I’ll have to contact the press without speaking with him first.”
The young man frowned deeply as he wrote faster. “He’ll know what this is in reference to?”
“Oh, I’m sure he will,” Warren smirked before turning to find the hotel bar.
-------------------------------------------
“I knew they’d try again,” Victoria seethed when Chris told her about being dragged into the HR office. “I just knew it!”
She and Elaine were making nachos in the kitchen while Chris commandeered a bag of tortilla chips and a jar of salsa in the living room.
“I think we both did,” he shrugged then popped another salsa-laden chip into his mouth. Mm, he thought. Gotta love that salsa! “Anyway, I think I was able to head off any further interference at the pass.”
“How?”
“I told my father I would take matters to the papers if he kept it up.”
“You serious?” Elaine asked as her eyes shot up in surprise.
“Deadly,” he grinned. “I even said I’d offer photos.”
“Pervert!” Victoria chuckled.
“That’s me!”
He channel surfed for a few minutes before giving up and joining the ladies in the kitchen.
“Is this dinner?” he asked.
“Is that a problem?” Elaine countered.
“Not at all. I love nachos!”
“We can see that,” Victoria smirked, grabbing his half-empty bag of chips from him and pouring them onto a second plate. “These are for the chicken nachos!”
“Oh?” Chris pointed to the plate Elaine was sprinkling cheese on. “And what are those?”
“Chile con carne nachos!” Elaine replied.
“Awesome!”
The three worked on the second plate together and when both were popped into the oven to warm, they sat around the table to wait somewhat patiently.
“So,” Chris said as he dramatically twiddled his thumbs. “You two … ?” He left the question hanging in the air, not wanting to offend them.
They looked at him blankly at first then giggled in amusement.
“We’re just friends,” Elaine said.
“Right now, anyway,” Victoria added with another smirk.
“Ah,” he nodded. “Good. Friends first always works best.”
“That’s what we hear,” the black-haired woman shrugged. “And, uh, you …?”
Chris gave her a sheepish look then averted his eyes. “Kee’s, um, setting something up for me for this Friday.”
“Really?” Victoria looked shocked, though not unpleasantly. “What brought this on?”
Chris shuffled his feet under the table as he tried to come up with a way to explain it that didn’t sound as awkward as he feared it was. After all, when had he ever had trouble finding a date? But then again, those were just one-nighters. Besides Warren and Victoria, he’d never seen anyone more than a couple times.
“When Joe and I met him for lunch and told him what happened, he said I should have everything in place to back up my threat.”
“I see.”
“And anyway, it’s probably time I moved on.”
“Are you ready to move on?”
He looked up at her then as he considered her question. She really was the best friend he’d ever had, and understood him more than anyone else he’d known. He knew that to Elaine, it probably sounded like a simple, innocent question. But to Chris, it meant more. Victoria wasn’t just asking him if he was ready to start dating. She was asking him if he was ready to start committing to a life without guilt over what he’d done in the past. To a life without beating himself up over the way things had ended with Warren.
“Yeah, I am,” he smiled at her. “I think I’m finally on my way.”
She nodded at him again and patted his hand, then got up to take the nachos out of the oven.
-------------------------------------------
Warren smiled coldly as he noted the entrance of his quarry at 9:45. He was sitting at a small table facing the door of the bar so he could be sure he saw Quentin before the other man saw him. He felt there was no sense in letting the slightly older Wainsworth gain even the slightest upper hand. Quentin scanned the occupants briefly before his eyes finally fell on the tall brunette man at a nearby table. Warren kept the smile intact and gave him a short wave just to annoy him. It worked, as Quentin angrily stalked over to him and dropped into the table’s only other chair.
“Gaits,” he hissed.
“Wainsworth.”
Quentin quirked up a golden eyebrow suspiciously but turned to the waiter who had materialized next to them. “Scotch. Single malt.” When the waiter walked off, he turned to Warren, who was taking a sip from his beer bottle. “You don’t mind, do you?” he smirked.
“Suit yourself,” the brunette shrugged. “You’re picking up the tab.”
“Am I now?” Quentin challenged.
“Damn right,” Warren countered. “And when we’re done talking, I’m sure you’ll want to hurry on back upstairs and get some sleep.”
“Why’s that?”
“You’ll be catching an early flight home tomorrow,” he said icily, leaning forward for effect. “If you know what’s good for you.”
Warren took a long sip of his bottled water as he walked down Sixth Avenue and turned onto Central Park South. He had some misgivings about what he’d set out to do, but somehow they didn’t sway his course. He knew where to find the arrogant middle son of the Wainsworth clan. Hell, he dated Chris for six years. He knew the family’s habits almost as well as if he’d been born into it. The Wainsworths always stayed at a Ritz Carlton if there was one in town. In fact, the family corporation had an account with the hotel. And since Central Park was likely to be closer than the hotel’s location in Battery Park, Warren had a strong feeling he’d find Quentin there, probably staying in the biggest suite, despite him being the only one there, maybe even availing himself of the luxury spa while he waited for his father’s instructions. Their attitudes made him sick. They were largely the reason Chris hid his relationship with Warren. In his mind, they should share the blame.
Of course, what he was about to do was a complete reversal of how he’d handled the matter during the six years he and Chris were together. The ironic fact hadn’t escaped his notice. What was he hoping to gain here anyway? He stopped and tossed the empty plastic bottle into a curbside trash container then noted the sun’s glint off the pinky ring he now wore. When Chris left it the morning after they’d slept together, he knew the message the blonde was sending. Warren had changed in the years since he’d given it. Now, after time had passed and he’d thought about it, the dark-haired man had to ask that if he could change, why couldn’t Chris? And the blonde had seemed to change.
The old Chris never would have allowed something like a broken relationship to stand in the way of his future with “the company”, as he referred to his father’s business. He would have shrugged it off and moved on. But he didn’t. He faced up to his father and left the rich boy lifestyle. Only to be used and tossed off by his ex. Warren admitted to himself that he didn’t have to take Chris home with him that night. He could have let Kee put him in a cab and left it at that. Chris seemed to want to leave things alone, after all. The old Chris wouldn’t have let someone get away with humiliating that way without retribution. This one apparently wanted nothing to do with him, though. And now that he thought about it, Warren acknowledged that he was waiting for Chris to contact him … maybe even demand that Warren apologize. But nothing. So, in a way, he felt this would serve as some sort of apology for that night. Not that he expected Chris to find out about this, or be grateful for it even if he did. This was between Warren and his own conscience.
He straightened himself out and rolled his shoulders before striding into the hotel lobby and up to the front desk.
“May I help you?” a smartly dressed and well-groomed young man asked in a bland tone that revealed no accent whatsoever.
“Yes,” Warren smiled graciously back. “I was hoping to contact Mr. Quentin Wainsworth while he’s in town, but I’m not sure of his suite number.”
“Mr. Wainsworth,” the young man nodded with a frown. “I apologize, sir. But we cannot give out that information.”
“Oh, I didn’t think you could,” Warren nodded sagely. “I just hoped maybe you could ring his room and tell him that I’m here.”
“I’m not entirely sure he’s in his room.”
“I understand. You could leave him a message, though?”
The young man sighed softly as he took out a message pad to jot don the note. “Yes?” he asked coolly, looking up at Warren expectantly.
“Tell him that Warren Gaits will be in the hotel bar until …” Warren looked at his watch to check the time. “Ten pm.”
“Mr. Gaits. Ten pm,” the man said as he wrote.
“Please tell him that if I don’t meet with him by such time, I’m afraid I’ll have to contact the press without speaking with him first.”
The young man frowned deeply as he wrote faster. “He’ll know what this is in reference to?”
“Oh, I’m sure he will,” Warren smirked before turning to find the hotel bar.
-------------------------------------------
“I knew they’d try again,” Victoria seethed when Chris told her about being dragged into the HR office. “I just knew it!”
She and Elaine were making nachos in the kitchen while Chris commandeered a bag of tortilla chips and a jar of salsa in the living room.
“I think we both did,” he shrugged then popped another salsa-laden chip into his mouth. Mm, he thought. Gotta love that salsa! “Anyway, I think I was able to head off any further interference at the pass.”
“How?”
“I told my father I would take matters to the papers if he kept it up.”
“You serious?” Elaine asked as her eyes shot up in surprise.
“Deadly,” he grinned. “I even said I’d offer photos.”
“Pervert!” Victoria chuckled.
“That’s me!”
He channel surfed for a few minutes before giving up and joining the ladies in the kitchen.
“Is this dinner?” he asked.
“Is that a problem?” Elaine countered.
“Not at all. I love nachos!”
“We can see that,” Victoria smirked, grabbing his half-empty bag of chips from him and pouring them onto a second plate. “These are for the chicken nachos!”
“Oh?” Chris pointed to the plate Elaine was sprinkling cheese on. “And what are those?”
“Chile con carne nachos!” Elaine replied.
“Awesome!”
The three worked on the second plate together and when both were popped into the oven to warm, they sat around the table to wait somewhat patiently.
“So,” Chris said as he dramatically twiddled his thumbs. “You two … ?” He left the question hanging in the air, not wanting to offend them.
They looked at him blankly at first then giggled in amusement.
“We’re just friends,” Elaine said.
“Right now, anyway,” Victoria added with another smirk.
“Ah,” he nodded. “Good. Friends first always works best.”
“That’s what we hear,” the black-haired woman shrugged. “And, uh, you …?”
Chris gave her a sheepish look then averted his eyes. “Kee’s, um, setting something up for me for this Friday.”
“Really?” Victoria looked shocked, though not unpleasantly. “What brought this on?”
Chris shuffled his feet under the table as he tried to come up with a way to explain it that didn’t sound as awkward as he feared it was. After all, when had he ever had trouble finding a date? But then again, those were just one-nighters. Besides Warren and Victoria, he’d never seen anyone more than a couple times.
“When Joe and I met him for lunch and told him what happened, he said I should have everything in place to back up my threat.”
“I see.”
“And anyway, it’s probably time I moved on.”
“Are you ready to move on?”
He looked up at her then as he considered her question. She really was the best friend he’d ever had, and understood him more than anyone else he’d known. He knew that to Elaine, it probably sounded like a simple, innocent question. But to Chris, it meant more. Victoria wasn’t just asking him if he was ready to start dating. She was asking him if he was ready to start committing to a life without guilt over what he’d done in the past. To a life without beating himself up over the way things had ended with Warren.
“Yeah, I am,” he smiled at her. “I think I’m finally on my way.”
She nodded at him again and patted his hand, then got up to take the nachos out of the oven.
-------------------------------------------
Warren smiled coldly as he noted the entrance of his quarry at 9:45. He was sitting at a small table facing the door of the bar so he could be sure he saw Quentin before the other man saw him. He felt there was no sense in letting the slightly older Wainsworth gain even the slightest upper hand. Quentin scanned the occupants briefly before his eyes finally fell on the tall brunette man at a nearby table. Warren kept the smile intact and gave him a short wave just to annoy him. It worked, as Quentin angrily stalked over to him and dropped into the table’s only other chair.
“Gaits,” he hissed.
“Wainsworth.”
Quentin quirked up a golden eyebrow suspiciously but turned to the waiter who had materialized next to them. “Scotch. Single malt.” When the waiter walked off, he turned to Warren, who was taking a sip from his beer bottle. “You don’t mind, do you?” he smirked.
“Suit yourself,” the brunette shrugged. “You’re picking up the tab.”
“Am I now?” Quentin challenged.
“Damn right,” Warren countered. “And when we’re done talking, I’m sure you’ll want to hurry on back upstairs and get some sleep.”
“Why’s that?”
“You’ll be catching an early flight home tomorrow,” he said icily, leaning forward for effect. “If you know what’s good for you.”