A Waltz With Wolves (Book II in The Harrison Inc. Series) | ✓

Chapter Twenty-Three: From Stormy Skies to Sunny Shores

**
Before embarking on my week-long vacation to Barcelona with the Quintanilla's, I intended to leave everything on a high note with everyone else back home. Unfortunately, that didn't happen. Not at all.

Currently, I'm on a private jet to Barcelona by myself, courtesy of the Quintanilla's (well, technically I'm not by myself—Julio is with me, ordered to ride with me to keep me company). I left later than the Quintanillas due to setbacks, so I was unable to ride in the same jet as them. They were nice enough to assign me to one of their other aircrafts that they owned so I was well-accommodated regardless of the fact that I caused a bit of a delay for them, too. They have been the only ones with kind hearts and clear intentions since Alejandro dropped me off at my apartment from the party. You may be thinking, "What about Sebastian? Wasn't he there for you when you were crying in your apartment?" He was. And I'm grateful for that. But he ruined that gratitude.

Very quickly.

**

When he came over to my apartment last week, he held me as I cried and watched an episode of Say Yes to the Dress with me before I fell asleep on his shoulder. When I woke up, I was in my bed, blinded by the sun's rays burning my sensitive eyes. I didn't know if he carried me to my room or woke me up and hauled my sluggish body to my room. Either way, that warm feeling inside of me still lingered around even though he was gone.

I got dressed and continued on with my day with the intention of working until I couldn't remember the night before. My dad kept calling me over and over again until I finally called him back and told him I was busy. Then, we began to argue—arguing about ignoring the problem, about his lies and his cheating.

"I already told you that I wanted to speak with you about this in person," he snapped at me. I sat down at my desk and ignored the calls pouring in on my office phone.

"I don't have time right now, dad. I'm busy. I need to go."

"No, don't you dare hang up on me!" he yelled. I was stunned silent. It had been years since he yelled at me, especially like that; he had the kind of yelling voice that was like a wave swallowing the world whole.

"Why are you running away from this?" he asked. "I want to talk to you, Leslie. Why won't you let me?"

"Because I have more important things to handle right now, Dad. Seriously. I need to go."

He was upset with me. I heard him mumble that I was just like "her," but he thought I didn't hear him. He let me go, and officially, the problems that would proceed until leaving for Spain began. Darcy was busy emailing everyone and notifying them of my absence that week, and many of them responded with questions about my clients instead of a concrete "I understand." My head was throbbing; I had consumed enough coffee to send me bouncing against the walls, but it was doing the opposite for me.

Wednesday came along and everything seemed to get worse. I was running around to events and meetings for Sebastian as well as meeting with a few managers who wanted me to represent their "talented" clients. I felt like I was going to scream; my feet were aching beyond compare. I had gotten in contact with the director of the AFA—the non-profit that Sebastian wanted to work with—and spoke with her about meeting in person after I came back from Barcelona. She dragged out the conversation, saying that she would be in this country doing this and at this charity event doing that. I had to rearrange my schedule three times to fit her needs, but as I was pushing back important gigs for Claire and rearranging meetings with journalists as well as charity events that Sebastian needed to go to himself, I reminded myself that it was for Sebastian; he was passionate about the AFA, so I was going to make sure that we didn't mess up our relationship with them so early in the game.