Set In Stone (The Stone Series Book 3)

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Set In Stone (The Stone Series Book 3) Page 3

by Dakota Willink


  And it was a big one.

  Focus, Cole.

  I sighed to myself and spun my chair around to flip on the office stereo behind me. Using the music as motivation, I turned back to my computer, determined to stay focused on the task at hand.

  My first week back to work since the car accident had been rough. When I proposed buying Turning Stone Advertising from Alexander, I had high hopes. The company held great potential and only lacked in direction. I truly felt that it wasn’t anything a little elbow grease couldn’t fix.

  However, after spending nearly three weeks in a coma, then another five weeks resting as per doctor’s orders, my business affairs had been put on the back burner. My employees kept the ship afloat during my absence, as they were used to operating with little instruction before I came along. Nevertheless, they allowed seventy-five percent of the potential contracts I had lined up to fall through the cracks while I was out. They weren’t the most pro-active group of individuals to say the least. As a result, the direction and progress I made when I first took over Turning Stone had to be revisited. My ideas to make the advertising company take flight were suffering from more than one major setback.

  Conversely, the buyout contract I signed with Alexander was airtight. I made sure of that, and I refused to play the fiancé card. Just because I was now engaged to the sole owner and billionaire CEO of Stone Enterprise, didn’t mean I could shirk my responsibilities and commitments.

  I couldn’t play the damsel in distress role even if I tried.

  Either way, the circumstances for how and why I got into this position didn’t matter. They wouldn’t change the simple fact that I was short on clients and one-month delinquent on my buyout payment to Stone Enterprise. I was back to square one. My only option was to keep plugging away.

  Moving the computer mouse to click on the next email, I absently hummed along to “Walk” by the Foo Fighters. I smiled to myself when I realized how apropos the lyrics were to my current situation. The singer sang about finding your place and conquering challenges, which is exactly what I felt like. It was like I was learning to walk again.

  As I waited for the email to load, a knock at my door interrupted me.

  “Come in,” I called.

  Regina poked her head in.

  “Sorry to interrupt, Miss Cole,” my secretary apologized. “But I wanted to tell you this in person rather than just buzz your line.”

  My stomach dropped.

  Please don’t give me more bad news.

  I quickly exited out of my inbox and gave Regina my full attention.

  “No worries. What’s up?” I asked, attempting to come off casual. Like I wasn’t terrified of losing yet another client.

  She flashed me a bright, if not a somewhat devious, smile and the corners of her eyes crinkled. I took it as a good sign. If she were giving her notice, she wouldn’t be smiling like the cat that swallowed the canary. I tried to relax a bit.

  Regina sat down in the chair across from me and smoothed out her long floral skirt.

  “Mr. Tremaine called,” she informed me.

  I raised my eyebrows in disbelief, hoping beyond hope that it was the Mr. Tremaine I wanted it to be.

  “Sheldon Tremaine, the owner of Beaumont Jewelers?” I asked just to be sure.

  “The one and only. He read over the proposal you sent to him on Wednesday, and he wants a meeting. I offered to schedule one with Clive, but he wants to meet with you directly.”

  I tried to keep my jaw from hitting the floor.

  “Regina, that’s great news! Did you set it up?”

  “Yes, ma’am. It’s already in your calendar. You are set to meet a week from today. He seemed very anxious to sit down with you, actually. He’s going to come here, despite the fact that I told him you would go to him.”

  I relaxed and leaned back, trying to absorb what she was saying. A meeting with Sheldon Tremaine of Beaumont Jewelers was a huge deal and exactly what I needed. He was one of the largest diamond distributors in the city. If I signed his jewelry business as a client, I could rest easy knowing that the expenses for Turning Stone would be covered for the next year, including the buyout payments to Stone Enterprise. I couldn’t afford to screw this up.

  “We are going to need all hands on deck next week to get ready for this. Turning Stone needs this contract,” I told Regina. “Please schedule a mandatory staff meeting for Monday morning. We’ll need to prepare a full portfolio, including mockups, before I meet with Mr. Tremaine.”

  “Consider it done.”

  “Thanks, Regina,” I said and beamed at her. It was a relief to finally have something positive in the works.

  “It’s good to see you smile, Miss Cole. I knew this would brighten your day. I know it’s been a crazy first week back, but things will get better. I just don’t want to see you kill yourself in the meantime.” She paused and gave me a tentative smile. “Try not to do everything alone. Accepting a little help from the fiftieth floor when it’s offered isn’t a bad thing.”

  I cocked my head to the side and narrowed my eyes at her. When Alexander found out how buried I was, he offered to send his personal assistant, Laura Kaufmann, down to my floor. He thought she could help me get caught up, but I refused him. This was something I needed to do for myself. Turning Stone was my baby and it was my job to fix it. The fact that Regina noticed was surprising. I didn’t think she was so observant.

  “Am I that obvious?” I asked her.

  “When I leave for the day at five, you’re still here burning the wick at both ends,” she pointed out. “The time stamp on your emails tells me that you’ve been pulling at least twelve-hour days. I don’t want to see you worn down. If there is one thing I learned while you were out, it’s that this place needs you.”

  “I’m a big girl, Regina.”

  “I know you are,” she said and stood to leave. “But I’m old and I worry.”

  I laughed. Regina was barely fifty.

  “You’re not that old!”

  “I could be your mother, so I say that’s old enough,” she joked back. “I’m headed out in about a half hour. Is there anything you need before I go?”

  I glanced at the clock. It was nearing four-thirty. I had to meet Alexander in the lobby at five.

  “No, I’m all set. In fact, I’ll be leaving around the same time as you are.”

  “Alright then. Enjoy your weekend.”

  “Thanks. You too, Regina,” I returned and watched her exit my office.

  Feeling optimistic about my schedule for next week, I powered down the computer and began to sort through the piles of client folders that were sitting on my desk. As I put them away into the file cabinet, I tried to switch gears and mentally prepare for the next order of business for the day – the therapy session with Dr. Tumblin. In an instant, my good mood vanished. I was truly dreading the appointment, even if it was entirely my idea.

  After I finished putting away the client files, I grabbed my coat and purse. Hitting the switch to power off the lights in my office, I took a deep breath and tried to let go of the tension that was already beginning to set in my shoulders.

  Maybe Alex won’t be so resistant today.

  I tried to be hopeful, but I wasn’t really feeling it. Round four of therapy was less than an hour away, and it literally felt like I was about to head into a boxing match. The sessions weren’t going well because Alexander had been fighting them every step of the way. As a result, I had been snappy and short tempered with him over the past few weeks. I couldn’t help it.

  Bite your tongue. Don’t snap at him today.

  I repeated the thought to myself another three times as I closed the door to my office. Making my way down the corridor to the elevator, I steeled myself for what might lie ahead.

  4

  alexander

  “Laura,” I said into the intercom on my desktop phone.

  “Yes, Mr. Stone,” she immediately responded. That was the best thing about my personal assist
ant – she never kept me waiting. Ever. Her incredible efficiency was one of the reasons I could power through my work days so seamlessly.

  “Did Sheldon Tremaine get in touch with Turning Stone?”

  “He did, sir. A meeting has been scheduled for next week Friday with Miss Cole.”

  I smiled, pleased that everything was going according to plan.

  “Excellent. And you made sure he knows to be discreet?”

  “Yes, Mr. Stone. I made that very clear.”

  “Good. The last thing I need is for Krystina to find out I arranged the deal for her,” I said with a frown as I considered the potential fallout. “She won’t like it.”

  Laura hesitated before responding, but when she finally spoke, I could hear the amusement in her voice.

  “No, I don’t imagine that she would be very happy.”

  I chuckled to myself. Laura was quickly learning Krystina’s independent, if not stubborn, nature. Not happy was an understatement. Krystina would be livid if she knew I called in a favor to get her that contract, even if it was one that she desperately needed. Bryan had given me the numbers. I knew she was struggling. Still, I had to admire her tenacity and determination to make it on her own. In a way, she reminded me of myself when I first established Stone Enterprise.

  “Keep me apprised on the outcome of that meeting,” I told Laura.

  “I will, sir. Anything else?”

  “Just one more thing. I’ll be leaving the office in a few moments. Tell Hale that I won’t need him to drive us tonight. I plan on taking the Tesla.”

  “Yes, Mr. Stone.”

  I hit the end button on the intercom and spun around in my chair to look out the tall windows in my office, completely oblivious to the Manhattan skyline before me. From fifty stories up, I had a front row seat to some of the most sought after real estate in the country. Instead of appreciating the view, my mind was on Krystina. I thought again about how tired she seemed this morning.

  She’s doing too much, too fast.

  The last thing she needed was to end the week with the psychiatrist she had been so adamant about us seeing. I had to find a way to convince her to drop it. It was nonsense. The more I thought about it, the more I was convinced that my instincts were correct. Yes, Krystina was over worked, but the tension between us began weeks before her return to Turning Stone. It all began after we started seeing Dr. Tumblin. We had been through enough. We didn’t need some head-nutter to come between us.

  Turning away from the windows, I stood to put on the suit coat that was slung over the back of my office chair. It was time to change strategies. If Krystina didn’t want to see what this was doing to us, then it was up to me to make her see it. That was one of my strengths after all. Convincing others to see things my way was what propelled me to the top of the real estate game. I just needed to take the emotional aspect out of the situation and use that strength to my advantage.

  After leaving my office, I made my way to the elevator that would take me to the lobby of my building. During the descent, I contemplated how I should finesse Krystina into my way of thinking.

  I could simply refuse to go.

  I frowned, knowing that wasn’t the solution. The problem was, my usual patient diplomacy was failing me. I relied heavily on that patience to achieve success. Yet, with Krystina, it seemed to fail me at every turn. The woman, as much as I loved her, drove me completely insane. Nothing ever seemed to be in order whenever she was involved.

  My temper was another concern. It flared more often than not during our appointments. To me, that was a very dangerous sign. The blood that ran through my veins was poisonous, and I couldn’t afford to lose control. Not again. I already lost it once with Krystina, and I couldn’t allow a repeat occurrence.

  Images of her facial expressions from that emotionally exhausting day on my yacht came to the forefront of my mind. It was the day I told Krystina about my past. I practically choked on every word I uttered that night, despite knowing she needed the truth about my parents. I had been wound tight, and the anxiety caused me to snap.

  “Alexander, you’re hurting me!”

  Her words were a constant echo in my dreams while I slept. Her eyes, horror stricken as my hands encircled her throat. Her beautiful lips, twisted into a grimace of pain. Yet, even when the sunrise came to chase away the darkness, the memory of what I had done still haunted me.

  I cringed from the recollection. Even though it happened months ago, at times it felt as if it were only yesterday.

  Forget it. It’s in the past. There’s no changing it.

  I shook my head to clear it. I learned an important lesson that day, one that I wouldn’t soon forget. I was reminded of the many fundamental reasons why I had to maintain order and control in everything that surrounded me. However, these therapy sessions almost felt like a power exchange. I needed to put an end to them. Too much was at stake.

  When I reached the ground floor, I exited the elevator and walked down the corridor toward the lobby. I spotted Krystina near the main doors. Her back was to me, and she appeared to be looking down at her phone. My eyes skimmed up her legs, past the hem of her skirt, to the delicious view of her behind in the custom-tailored suit.

  Perfection.

  The corners of my mouth turned up in appreciation. Setting her up with my personal tailor for her business attire was a small stroke of genius on my part. While Krystina had good taste and looked stunning in everything she wore, my tailor had sculpted skirts and pantsuits that fit her flawlessly. Nevertheless, I couldn’t wait to get her home where I could rip it off. I imagined pushing the hem of her skirt up to her slender waist and wrapping those lithe thighs around my hips. My balls tightened as I thought about burying my length inside her, filling her with my seed.

  Oh, you’ll be begging for it tonight, Miss Cole.

  As I came up behind her, she must have sensed my presence because she turned to face me. Never one to ignore her beauty, I took in her face. She had the most elegant jawline, hard yet soft. Her full lips never failed to draw me in, and it was difficult not to imagine them wrapped around my dick. She looked as beautiful as always, but she was also pale and a little drawn. Faint circles shadowed the underside of her deep brown eyes.

  Damn it!

  Not wanting to stir up another argument about the long hours she kept this week, I suppressed a frown and threw her a casual smile instead. Wrapping an arm around her waist, I pulled her close and placed a gentle kiss on her forehead.

  “Ready to go, angel?” I asked.

  “Ready when you are,” she said and smiled in return. However, it didn’t quite meet her eyes. Krystina’s emotions were often written plainly on her face and I could read her like a book. Her forced smile was obvious.

  She’s just as tense as I am over these damn appointments.

  To me, it was just another reason we shouldn’t be having them. Choosing not to voice my thoughts, I stepped back and took hold of her elbow to lead her out of Cornerstone Tower toward the parking garage. When we reached the deep metallic blue Tesla, I waited for her to properly fasten her seatbelt before pulling out of the parking space.

  Once we began the short drive to Tumblin’s office, I noticed that she was unusually quiet. The only sound that could be heard in the car was from the radio, a sultry tune by Bishop Briggs. Another day, I may have suggested that I add the song to one of the playlists I made for her a few months earlier, but today wasn’t that day. Her uncharacteristic silence told me something was bothering her. This was more than just tension over the appointment.

  I glanced in her direction. She was staring out the passenger window of the Tesla as I braked for a red light.

  “You have that look again,” I told her.

  “What look?”

  “Like you did this morning. Lost in thought,” I remarked offhandedly.

  “I was just thinking about our meeting with the builder next week. I’m curious to see the architects plans for the property in Westchester,�
� she commented.

  I noticed that her tone lacked any sort of excitement and sounded somewhat flat. I also noted how she referred to it in a very impersonal way. She spoke of it like it was just a parcel of land, as if it wasn’t our home that we were building. It was disappointing and troubling. She should have shown more enthusiasm about building our home together, but she seemed detached whenever the subject came up.

  “Yes, I’m looking forward to you seeing the plans too. I think you’ll like my ideas and what he’s drawn up to implement them,” I murmured absently, and I observed her pallor once more. “Are you feeling alright, angel?”

  “I’m fine. Just a little tired. I would kill for some caffeine right about now. Do you think we have time to stop for coffee?” she asked.

  “You shouldn’t rely on coffee so much, Krystina. It isn’t healthy for you. Besides, if we stop, we’ll be late for our appointment.”

  She frowned and looked at the clock on the dash.

  “Yeah, you’re right,” she agreed and turned to stare out the window again. She cleared her throat and I couldn’t help but to notice that she sounded slightly congested. I wondered if she was showing the beginning signs of a head cold.

  The light turned green and I hit the accelerator, although I had half a mind to turn around and head for home.

  She should be in bed. Resting.

  “We can reschedule our appointment if you’d like? I know it’s been a long week for you,” I suggested tentatively, even though I already knew what her answer would be.

  “No, Alex,” she sharply dismissed. “This is important. We finally started making progress last week.”

 

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