Chapter 2 - THE SCENT OF SCOTCH AND SECRETS
The air in the room was thick, smelling of expensive mahogany, rain against the glass, and the undeniable, sharp bite of scotch. Gideon Okoro did not look like the untouchable billionaire the magazines portrayed. As Abini took a hesitant step forward, she noticed the looseness in his stance. He was swaying, just barely, gripping the edge of a marble side table as if it were the only thing tethering him to the earth. A shattered crystal glass lay near the foot of the massive bed.
“Put them on the counter,” his voice rasped, devoid of its usual boardroom command. It was a raw, broken sound.
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Abini moved quickly, setting the towels down, wanting nothing more than to retreat to the safety of the fluorescent-lit hallways. But as she turned, her foot grazed a shard of the broken glass. It scraped loudly against the tile. Gideon’s head snapped up. His eyes, usually calculating and cold, were bloodshot and swimming with a grief she recognized all too well—the kind that hollowed you out from the inside.
“Don’t go,” he said. It wasn’t a CEO’s order; it was a plea. He stumbled forward, the weight of whatever corporate betrayal or personal loss he had suffered tonight finally pulling him under. He collapsed against her, his broad chest heavy against her shoulder. Instinct took over. She caught him, her hands pressing against the crisp cotton of his shirt, feeling the frantic, entirely human beating of his heart. As she helped him to the edge of the bed, their eyes met. The barriers of wealth, status, and logic evaporated in the heavy, intoxicating silence, replaced by a desperate, electric pull that neither of them had the strength to fight.
