A Gentleman’s Fate (Book #4)
The Synopsis for A Gentleman’s Fate
The story continues for the handsome reformed Malibu playboy, Donovan Hart, in this, the fourth and final installment of A Gentleman’s Series. Donovan, a hotel and adult club owner, decided that it was time to file away his players card in search of the elusive one, in the first book in the series, A Gentleman’s Affair. He was certain that he had found that in interior designer, Scarlett Montgomery, but Scarlett had a past, and that past would soon threaten their perfect union. How far will he go to fight for his Unico Vero Amore?
Beware of unexpected twists and heartbreaking turns.
Just when you think you know what’s next, you will probably be wrong.
“Good morning, sire. Good to have you back. How was Venice?” Patrice asks as I fly past her desk, walking straight into my office, slamming the door behind me.
But my silence doesn’t stop her. She barges in with hot coffee and makes herself comfortable in the black leather chair near my desk. “Okay, spill it. What’s going on?”
“Not now, Patrice,” I reply dismissively as I switch on my computer.
I stare at the blank screen trying to avoid the inevitable conversation, and trying even harder to avoid her.
She sets the coffee cup down and softens her voice to almost a whisper, and asks once again, “Donovan, what’s going on?”
“Don’t you have work to do?” I snap.
“Yes sir, I do,” she snaps back in a nasty tone. She gets up quickly and starts to head for the door mumbling the word asshole under her breath.
“I heard that,” I respond, and somehow I even manage to muster up a slight chuckle. “I apologize, alright? Sit back down.”
“Accepted. Now, are you gonna tell me what’s got you in such a pissy mood?”
“In a nutshell…she did it again.”
“She? Who? Scarlett?”
And there it is. The look that I was trying so hard to avoid. The poor-Donnie, sad-eyed, frowny-faced look that I know I’ll get every single time that I tell this fucking story. Perhaps I can just handle this in one fell swoop, and have Patrice send out a mass memo describing the details of the nightmare in the Venice, fucking-kill-me-now, debacle.
“I don’t get it, Donovan. She was the one that propo….”
“Please, don’t even say it. I really don’t want to get into this right now. Alright?”
“Alright. I understand.”
She turns slowly to leave, and I can see that she’s searching for the right thing to say. Something, anything to lighten the mood, as if anything could, but I just want her to leave.
“You know she loves you, right? Do you want me to talk to her? I’m sure I can…”
I interrupt before she can say anything else. “Not another goddamn word about it, understand? Now, I have work to do.”
Defeated, she leaves, closing the door behind her.
The clock on the wall seems to be ticking slower than usual. I’ve been here for three hours and am finding it impossible to concentrate, especially with my cell going off every ten minutes with calls and text messages from Scarlett. I’m not ready to talk to her, and I don’t know if I ever will be.
Placing my cell phone in the top drawer of my desk, I change out of my suit and into the spare jeans and t-shirt that I keep in the closet of my office. I stop at Patrice’s’ desk on my way out to let her know that I don’t want to be bothered…no matter what’s on fire.
“Are you okay?” she asks, still pushing, hoping for some sort of verbal spillage on the details of my Venetian vacation.
“No, but I will be.”