Daddy’s Little Pet

ROBERT

“No fucking way!” I exclaimed loudly. “This has to be the dumbest joke in history! This cannot be true. Tell me this is a lie. Just some ploy by the media to sell a story, right? I mean, who made this up?” I spat, returning my gaze to my secretary, and flinging the magazine on the floor.

“We can’t say, Mr. Clarke, but we know the media will do anything for money. Aside from that, the allegations look too good to be true, and they have photos to back it up.” Mr. Patrick, my lawyer, chimed in, his face concerned as he looked at me from his chair across the office desk.

God, this was worse than I’d imagined. I closed my eyes and sighed deeply, thinking about the headline I’d just read.

‘SCANDAL OF THE YEAR OR NOT? POPULAR BILLIONAIRE, ROBERT CLARKE, CAUGHT IN A ROMANTIC RUSE WITH HIS GIRLFRIEND & SON.’

The article described and fabricated theories about Dylan being Renee’s ex. They even had photos to prove it. My mind replayed the article’s content as the words flashed before my eyes, and my jaw gritted in anger and shame.

That’s when it struck me. This was true.

I remembered Renee had been surprised to see Dylan at the party that night.

I vividly recalled what she’d said and how she’d apologized to him before leaving.

Dylan was Renee’s ex.

He was the jerk who hurt her and weakened her already fragile heart. The bastard who’d cheated on her. I’d wanted to track him down and issue a warning after Renee told me he was still trying to contact her, possibly for a reconciliation. And now the pieces were finally coming together.

Dammit! My head spun as I tried to make sense of everything.

My face was white and ashen, like a sheet of paper. I felt lightheaded and nauseous.

I probably appeared even messier than I felt. With bags under my eyes, wild and messy hair, and working on little sleep, I knew I looked miserable.

I couldn’t eat because my stomach hurt, so I drank whiskey all day Sunday, Monday, and today.

I’m sure my body was rebelling against me, but I didn’t give a damn.

“How come no one told me about this? Why am I just seeing this?” I asked, shaking my head.

“It was all over the news yesterday, Mr. Clarke. I dashed over here when you summoned me, thinking you’d called because of it. Apparently, my intuition was incorrect.” Mr. Patrick shrugged his shoulders.

“I called you because I knew the media would be all over what happened at the party. I’ve barely looked at my phone or watched TV because I was afraid of what I’d find.” I confessed, running my hand through my unkempt hair. “Didn’t think I’d see this and… fuck!”

My voice cracked in disbelief and disgust, and I shook my head.

“Goddammit, I feel like a fucking moron! I’d stood still and let Amanda trample all over me. I’m such a coward, and I only have myself to blame!”

“Mr. Clarke, you must calm down and-” Mr. Patrick began, only for me to cut him off.

“How can I relax? Don’t give me that shit, man. Knowing my reputation will suffer because of all this doesn’t cut it. What about Renee? She only followed me to a party where we were supposed to have the time of our lives. But what did she get? Outright humiliation, and now I’ve learned that Dylan, my son, was, in fact, her ex-boyfriend. Do you have any idea how that sounds? Fuck! This only exacerbates the situation!” I yelled, pacing agitatedly, my hands outstretched in frustration.

“Please, Mr. Clarke.”

“For Christ’s sake, Mr. Patrick. I can’t keep my cool. I read some of that article, and they glorify and praise my sexual prowess while slut shaming Renee. How revolting. I’ve failed miserably as a lover. I should’ve been more protective of my woman. How pathetic. I mean, what sort of a man am I?”

“I’m at a loss for words, Mr. Clarke. However, we must act quickly. The media will continue to fabricate stories, and once this gets out of hand, it won’t be easy to maintain the public image you’ve built for yourself. I don’t want to talk about Miss Renee. She’s already bearing the harsh brunt of this scandal, as you’ve said. Have you spoken to her yet?”

“She hasn’t returned my calls or texts since Saturday night.” I stated flatly.

“Of course…” Mr. Patrick muttered and added, “So what are we going to do now?”

“We have to salvage this situation. Those articles need to be taken down. And as quickly as possible.” I gritted my teeth.

“You are correct, Sir. This, however, will not be so simple. We’re talking about fortified media outlets here. A lot of money will be involved. I suggested earlier that we act quickly, but I had another idea as well.”

“And what’s that?”

“Keep your head down for now, and let the news wash over. Because it will. Once the media gets wind of another juicy story, they’ll drop this, and it’ll be history. You can see….”

“I can’t fucking see shit when this is causing harm not just to me alone but to Renee. I can’t imagine how she’s dealing with the news and the slander.”

“But-”

“I don’t give a fuck, Mr. Patrick.” I cut in, my chest heaving with rage. “I’m going to sue every media outlet that refuses to remove published articles about Renee and me. Any motherfucker who does something shady will be sued for defamation and libel, and I’m willing to go to court. Money is not an issue. It’s never a problem, do you hear me?” I yelled, slamming the seat’s armrest close to me.

Giving me a nod, he cleared his throat before saying, “Very well then. I’ll do my best.”

“Good. Do whatever it takes. Anything at all. I screwed up, and Renee’s paying the price. You have no idea how much that hurts me.”

“Then I’ll do everything I can. Rest assured.”

I took a deep breath and looked to my side, where my secretary stood patiently.

She’d remained rooted to her spot since she’d entered-intent on showing me the drastic article-and now she was observing me, an air of worry and concern etched across her face. For reasons unbeknownst to me, the look of pity on her face irritated me to no end.

However, I couldn’t channel my anger toward her, so instead, with a sly smile, I said curtly, “Cancel all my appointments for the day.”

“Sir?”

“Cancel my appointments for the day, miss. Or for the week because I don’t think I’ll be in the best mental state to deal with them.”

“But, Sir, there’s someone important who…” She started to say something but stopped when she saw the warning glare I shot her way.

“All right, Sir. Noted.” She nodded with a grimace and turned to leave without further ado.NôvelDrama.Org content rights.

The office door gently closed behind her. I turned to face my lawyer, and, raising a finger in apology, I sharply picked up my cell phone and dialed Amanda’s number.

I put the damned device on the loudspeaker and listened as the call went through, ringing nonstop, but she didn’t pick up.

Since Saturday night, she’d abruptly stopped answering my calls and responding to my messages.

Her silence was unsettling for someone who had caused me so much strife and pain, and I began to imagine whatever she was planning.

These articles… I knew she was the mastermind behind them. She’d discovered Dylan’s relationship with Renee and harassed Dylan into selling the story. Of course, it was for money, and I was only now coming to terms with this.

She hated Renee so much, and what better way to ruin our relationship than this?

“Fuck!” I hollered and threw my phone on the desk for the umpteenth time.

“Oh, Amanda, I’m so going to fucking deal with you.” I murmured darkly under my breath and looked up to see Mr. Patrick getting up from his seat.

“I should be leaving now, Mr. Clarke.”

“Yes, I suppose. I have somewhere I need to be. Might run along and see to it.”

“Very well. What about plan A? You were on to something before your secretary arrived with that article. Are you still going ahead with that?” Mr. Patrick asked, and eyebrows creasing I thought about what he asked.

“I’m still thinking about it and I’ll let you know if I decide to go ahead with it. My public relations team will handle it too.”

“Okay, then. I’ll keep you updated on my progress starting tomorrow.” He said dismissively, then turned on his heels and exited the office after we exchanged farewell pleasantries.

As soon as I was left alone, my thoughts returned to Renee, and the familiar stab of pain coursing through my chest at the mere thought of losing her forever hit me again.

I missed her. I missed being able to wrap my arms around her. I missed smelling her persimmon skin and trailing kisses down her throat. Fuck! I missed my woman!

And with this constant ache in my chest, I grabbed my cell phone and briefcase and rushed out of the office with one destination in mind.

I was done giving Renee space.

If she refused to answer my calls or respond to my texts, then I would confront her in person. The consequences be damned!