by Lily Zante
“We have to do the right thing for us,” I maintain.
“Since when did you think moving was the right thing for us?” Fredrich asks, walking over the window. “You’ve always wanted to stay here. You said this area was up and coming, and we have so much land for potential. You know exactly where your self-funded business units will go. I don’t understand it.”
My brows push together. “Understand what?”
“Why you’re all of sudden talking about moving someplace else.”
“We should consider other alternatives. Why have the expense of building when we might find bigger premises?”
“But you always said we should stick to our guns. Land developers have come and gone, but we’ve never caved in.”
Deep down, I know he’s right. Why am I even considering it? “It’s something to think about,” I throw back. “Brad suggested it as an option.”
“So now you’re taking advice from him?” Fredrich’s tone catches me off guard. It startles me. There’s a hint of menace in it that I don’t like.
“He’s got ideas. Isn’t that why we hired him?” I try to keep my voice calm. “That chunk of plaster missed my head narrowly but consider how much worse it could have been if it had fallen on an employee. We’d get sued.”
“We have insurance.”
“But we also have a lot of rebuilding to do,” I reply.
“Why have you changed your mind all of a sudden?” he wants to know. “Is Brad giving you ideas?” His tone startles me because until now, I didn’t know how against the idea Fredrich was. I was against moving too but it seems that Brad is making me change my mind.
I put the letter away. “Brad has other things to worry about. We don’t need to worry about this now. It was only a suggestion.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
BRANDON
* * *
I’m still waiting to hear news of the extent of Emma’s head trauma as I head into Hawks Enterprises.
I’m going to be lost without her. She was brilliant at her job. She is brilliant at her job. I’m determined that she will be back. She can take as long as she needs to recover—I’ll have to find a temp PA worker to take over for now—but Emma will recover and come back to this.
I need her.
She kept everyone at bay, and more than that, she held me accountable, even if it meant stepping outside her PA role. She hates what I’m doing with Kyra and Redhill, and I wish I could tell her that I’m thinking of giving that crazy idea up. I wish I could see the look on her face when I tell her that she was right.
I rest my head back in my softly cushioned leather headrest and prop my arms on the plush armrests. I sink in, needing something to rest my weary body especially after a long morning of meetings with my managers. Someone comments that I’m out of the office more than I’ve been here.
Did they just notice this now?
This is the kind of shit I haven’t had to deal with.
I look over the resumes of temporary PAs and let one of my other managers take a look. I leave it to her to organize and interview the person.
Right now, I don’t even want to be here. Reminders of Emma are everywhere. My guilt trickles through the fabric of the day. I consider going to Redhill. But why? What would be the point of that?
I have a lot of things to take care of, and it’s better that I stay here and get on it. Being around Kyra will only confuse things further. I get to work. Or try to.
Sometime later, Kyra texts me to ask about Emma. Simona and Fredrich texted me and have expressed their shock and sadness at the news too.
I’m touched. These people don’t even know Emma, but they’re checking up on me to see if I’m okay.
Later this week, I have a dinner date with Jessica. I’m about to ask Emma to cancel it for me, and then I remember. She’s not here.
I need to find myself a temporary PA who will do for me the dirty work I’m not prepared to do myself.
KYRA
* * *
It’s time to serve, but Simona and the other helpers are all crowded around in a circle. The line is starting to form, and the food still needs to be put out. We’re one man down and it is noticeable how much we have come to rely on Brad’s help.
It’s only when I hear Fredrich’s loud voice, and then everyone moves away, that I see Brad.
He came?
It’s like I’ve been winded when I see him head towards me. This has to stop, me feeling like this. I rub the back of my neck, trying not to look at him too much, as if he’s the only man on the planet.
“Hey, stranger.” I attempt a weak, gentle punch into his arm. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”
“It’s better that I’m here.”
There he goes, being all cryptic again. I wonder if he’s with the FBI or CIA, and I’m tempted to tease him but then I remember about his girlfriend. “How’s your friend Emma?”
The friend emphasis isn’t needed, and now I wish I’d said girlfriend so that he could deny it or allow it, and that would tell me.
“She opened her eyes today.”
“Oh, that’s great. That’s really good news.” This makes me happy. I don’t know her, but I sure am glad that she is at least opening her eyes. From what Brad said of her injuries, I was beginning to worry.
“I know. I know. The doctor says it’s too early to tell, but it looks good.”
“I’m really happy to hear that. You must be relieved.”
“I am. I just miss her being around—” He stops, blinks, and hesitates as if he isn’t sure what he’s going to say.
I swallow my hurt and clench every muscle in my body so that I can keep it together. I can’t trace the time when it happened, when Brad Hartley stopped annoying me and started stealing into my thoughts, but knowing that he is unavailable is wrong. I can’t think those thoughts anymore.
It’s been so long since I was with someone, and being single has made my hormones go weird whenever Brad is around. I’m sure it would be the same around anyone ‘eligible’, as Simona would say. I’m not a mess of emotions because of Brad. I’d be the same if it were any other young, good-looking, flirty guy. I just haven’t been around people like that for a while and it’s wreaking havoc with my thoughts. Not just my ovaries.
I make sure that I stay away from Brad for the rest of the evening. I need to go back to how I used to be before.
Redhill is my focus. The expansion of the company, the new site. The roof. My insides sink as I remember the cost of fixing the roof. I have so many things to think about and I don’t need to get wrapped up in this added melodrama.
I’m really pleased for Brad that his girlfriend is okay, but I have to learn to push away.
Chapter Twenty-Six
BRANDON
* * *
The slate gray matte walls of the restaurant are flecked with dots of gold, and yellow glass lamps hang low over the tables, their sultry dimmed lights eavesdropping on secrets of the rich and famous. The clientele and ambiance in this, one of the city’s newest restaurants, drip with riches. Jessica made this reservation.
“I have an invitation to city hall to meet with Elias Cardoza,” Jessica announces as our food arrives.
“You? Why did you get an invitation?”
“Yes, me. Why do you sound so shocked?”
I’m shocked because Jessica is as far removed from Cardoza and the world of boxing as any two identities could be. It’s almost as ridiculous as someone like me helping out on Kyra’s food nights. “I don’t see the connection. Why would someone like Elias Cardoza reach out to you?”
“I’ve donated to some causes dear to his heart.” She picks at her salad.
“What causes?”
She waves her fingers, as if she’s trying to remember. “Some ... some children’s charities, I think.”
“You think? You don’t know?”
“I picked what he was associated with. Things like that aren’t hard to find with celebrities. You can loo
k up these things online. I’ve even donated to that Kyra Lewis’ place. I see Elias is a big donor to that.” Jessica picks up the napkin with her perfectly manicured nails, sharp as talons and her almost dark purple nail polish. “You’re just jealous because you didn’t get an invite.”
“The people at Redhill did.” Fredrich mentioned it to me. Kyra didn’t.
“I’m not surprised. Causes like that are very dear to the boxer’s heart, I hear.” She picks at her salad.
“But you run an art gallery. You’re not interested in those causes.”
With a flourish of her hand, she jabs a forefinger at me. “Neither are you, Brandon. Not really. Not for the right reasons.” Her wily smile reveals her perfect teeth. She has no soul. No empathy. “You and I care nothing for those people or those causes, but at least I’m not actively working against them without their knowing.”
I shift in my seat, the lamb on my plate suddenly not so appealing.
“I am a huge benefactor in this city, Brandon. I donate to worthy causes.”
“You do?” I don’t believe she’s doing it for the right reason. She would strike a deal with the devil if it served her.
“Yes, really. Who wouldn’t want to be at city hall at Elias Cardoza’s celebration party?”
I don’t answer. The gleam in her eye is sharp and cutting. Like a laser. “The local news networks will cover it,” she continues, with an enthusiasm I haven’t seen before. “He’s the pride of Chicago. What do they call him?” She clicks her fingers trying to remember.
“Chicago’s New Hope.” My voice is as dull as my mood.
“That’s it. Chicago’s New Hope. Me being associated with him—which I intend to be at that event—is great publicity for me.”
“You’re using him,” I point out.
“What’s wrong with that?”
I’m still peeved that Kyra and Cardoza are such good friends, but Jessica? Even I have more heart than her.
“He’s the champion of the world, Brandon. Do you have any idea what kind of money he got for the fight?”
I shrug. “It wasn’t on my list of things to find out.” But I bet it’s a heck of a lot. My mind drifts away while Jessica oozes over Elias’ newfound wealth. She purrs about getting the chance to meet him in person finally.
“He’s got a girlfriend,” I announce. “Some journalist.”
Jessica makes a face. “I know. They got engaged. It was all over the papers like a rash.”
“Keep that fact in mind when you’re introduced to him.”
“I’ll try.”
“You surprise me, Jessica.” I pick up my glass of wine. “You’re not such a refined connoisseur after all.”
“Connoisseur?”
“An art gallery owner,” I state, not understanding her sudden girl crush over the surly, tattooed fighter. I can very much see why women are drawn to him. Cardoza is the epitome of ripped bad boy as well as a world class boxer. Lucky son of a bitch, and yet I’ve never considered Jessica to be the type to fall for someone like him.
“He has charisma.”
“Emma was in a car accident,” I announce suddenly, derailing the conversation.
“Emma?”
“My PA. You’ve spoken to her a few times, surely you should remember?”
She dabs a napkin at the corners of her lips. “How awful. What happened?”
I relay the information, but I notice that I got a more sympathetic reaction from Kyra. I wish I was sitting here with her instead.
Jessica still picks at her food, and at the end, says, “That’s tragic,” but her voice doesn’t echo the gravity of the news I have imparted.
I wait for her to say something more, to offer sympathy for Emma and words of comfort to me. But she doesn’t. “She’s opened her eyes, and …” I tell her, but Jessica is busy craning her neck, trying to get the server’s attention. I give up. We eat in silence until the server comes over and Jessica asks him for another type of salad dressing.
“What were you saying?” she asks.
“Nothing. It wasn’t important.” I vow not to speak to her about Emma again.
“So, I’ll be meeting the new heavyweight champion of the world at city hall.” She suddenly sounds like a groupie, and I can’t believe I have to hear her gushing about Cardoza and this event all evening.
“He’s only caught your attention because of his fight money.”
“Of course. Why else would I notice him?” She lifts a forkful of salad, to her lips. this has to be her fourth or fifth forkful, while I’ve almost finished my dinner. It occurs to me that Jessica barely eats. She plays with her food, just like she plays with the people in her life. I suddenly realize that the woman who I thought was everything I wanted in a wife no longer holds my interest. She has everything I like—power, wealth, status—but it is no longer enough.
She has no heart.
I also have no heart, but something in my DNA is shifting. I feel things I never did before. Some good, some bad. Some hard to understand.
“He was amazing in the fight,” I say. Having seen the highlights, Cardoza was like a ferocious beast in the ring. Garrison stood no chance.
“I didn't watch the fight. I find those matches vulgar.” Jessica turns her nose up as if she's sniffed something rancid.
“Good party?” I allude to what she was up to on the night of the fight.
“It was a fabulous party. Great company and food. You should have come.”
“I was busy.” I don’t even want to tell her about what I did on that night.
“You're always busy these days,” she counters.
“It's not easy juggling two different worlds.”
“First world problems.” A smile spreads across her lips. I brace myself. “I’m going to bump into your new boss. I can’t wait to give her the once-over.”
The complete change in topic jars me. It takes me a moment to make sense of this. Then I realize she’s talking about Kyra. “If you mean Kyra, she isn’t my boss.”
“You work for her, don’t you, Brad? That woman will want to kill you when she finds out what you’ve done.”
Kyra will hate me. I’ll probably be better off dead. I don’t even want to think about that moment when she finds out the real reason for me joining her company. I don’t want to face seeing the look of disappointment in those sparkling green eyes. “We’ll see.” I lift my glass and take a sip.
“I hope I’m there to witness it. Come with me,” Jessica exclaims, sounding overly excited. “I have an extra invitation for my plus one.”
“I’m not your plus one.”
A line appears between her eyes as she observes me over the rim of her cocktail glass. We haven’t talked about us, or where this is going. I’m aware that this subtle dance we’ve been doing for months is leading nowhere. It has suited us both, but it has run its course.
I no longer want to pursue this, but I’m not sure what Jessica thinks. I sense her glacial exterior of noninterest is a façade. When I try to walk away, she might try and sink her hooks in further.
“Come anyway,” she purrs, thankfully not questioning why I’m not her plus one.
“I can’t. Kyra will be there and I can’t run the risk of meeting anyone I know.”
“That’s a shame. What a missed opportunity.”
“You’ll have to tell me all about it.”
“We could have had so much fun.” Her voice is flirty, with a girlish tone I’ve never heard before. She’s playful tonight, it’s almost as if that granite guard of hers has come down and she’s allowing herself to show emotion.
“I can’t risk it.”
Jessica would love to see me running into Kyra with Jessica’s arm hooked into mine.
It’s not going to happen. No way in hell.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
KYRA
* * *
I’m moving things around in the storeroom again. I shopped for some supplies yesterday and left them here in a rush, an
d now I’m organizing things neatly in place. “I thought you’d be in here.” I jump at the sound of Brad’s voice.
I turn around, my cheeks blushing as our gazes meet. I hate that my face has such tell-tale signs, and I pray that he’ll think it’s because I’ve been working at this.
“Where else would I be?” I give a light laugh and throw my hands up. With all that simmering chemistry between us it has been difficult for me to stop thinking about him. I was almost getting back to my normal self because he’s been away from the office, and I stayed away from him at the food night. But this, him, now, here. It all comes back. He’s been away for a week, taking care of Emma and I need to fight harder to keep my feelings at bay.
“Are you sure you’re okay to come back?” He’s not being paid, so I don’t understand why he is here.
He hunches his shoulders, hand in his pockets as he slowly walks towards me. “I need a distraction.”
He must be so badly upset about it. My imagination sparks to life, and I deepen and color in the argument I assume he and his girlfriend must have had before she had the accident. “How’s your girlfriend?”
“She’s not my girlfriend.”
“No?” I hope my voice is strong, and unwavering in the silent moment that passes between us. But I don’t think it is. My heart jumps like a jittery fool, and I’m worried that he’s going to hear it.
“What make you think she’s my girlfriend?”
I turn my back to him, and line up the already lined-up boxes. “Just … you’ve been so concerned about her.”
“I care about her, but she’s not my girlfriend. Whatever gave you that idea, Lewis?” His voice is husky and inviting. I’m convinced he’s back to playing games with me. We lock gazes, the way we used to do so many times before. I force myself to look away and fail completely, my eyes drifting back to his face, taking in the curve of his lips and noticing the way they’re slightly apart.