Her eyes fell upon his phone. His lawyer, Maribel noted, recognizing his abrupt voice and the context of their conversation. Miles was right; they weren’t going to leave him alone—even if he wanted them to.
“Gillian’s been pissing down our backs and telling us it’s raining. But I just talked to Olson. He still wants in at your Fields building and in on your terms. ”
Miles winked at Maribel. He seemed relaxed and playful. He swapped out the spatula and skillet for plates and forks and arranged each setting of toast and bacon on the island. He was in-control of their breakfast destiny—everything else could wait.
“Hello, hello…? Have I lost you… am I talking to myself here?”
“I heard you, Gary,” Miles answered him. “I’m just not certain that I care anymore.”
“You—don’t—care?” Gary repeated, slowly. “Boy, Brax, you’re either playing hardball as punishment or you’re seriously hung-over—or both. I truly have no what idea what you’ve been doing for the past four days that could possibly make you not care about closing a thirty-five million dollar deal.”
“I’m making bacon,” he said in jest, peering at Maribel from across the island. His eyes were warm and endearing. “And if you were here, Gary, I’d share some of it with you, and we’d take a moment to simply sit back and enjoy the finer moments of life.” Miles chomped down on the bacon, then offered a taste to Maribel. It was delicious.
“Oh, Christ, Brax. Have you gone completely Zen Hippie Hare Krishna on me? Please tell me you haven’t shaved your head and that you’re fully dressed.”
“Haven’t shaved my head—yet,” Miles quipped, “and Hare Krishnas don’t eat meat, by the way. Clothes, on the other hand, tend to be optional around here.”
“Ugh,” Gary crowed, “TMI, Brax. T-M-I.”
Miles snickered with juvenile delight—the same amusement that Maribel often had seen when he teased her.
“Well, you’ve left me with no choice. I’ve invited Don Olson here for dinner tonight and told him that you’d be there to ink the deal.”
“Gary—” Miles suddenly grew serious.
“Look, Brax, I’m your lawyer, not your maid. I’m here to close your deals, not clean up after you when you’ve pissed everything away.”
“Maybe I have other plans tonight…”
“Other fucking plans? Like what?”
“Like ice skating and hot chocolate.”
“Brax… what the hell is going on with you? Have you completely lost your mind?”
“Probably.”
“Okay, I get it. You don’t want to waste any more time. Message received loud and clear. So let’s get to the bottom-line—I’ve got a final contract here with every single one of your original lease terms, and Olson is ready to sign when you’re ready to sign. So just get into that fancy helicopter of yours and get here tonight, and then go back to living in your fucking merry winter wonderland—thirty-five million dollars richer.
Miles looked at Maribel.
Helicopter? she mouthed.
He shrugged. Just a small one.
“What’s for dinner?” Miles suddenly asked.
“Whatever the fucking hell you want, Brax. Just tell me what will get you here.”
“You, Gary… promising to cease your usage of the f-bomb for at least seventy-two hours.”
“Oh, for fucksake…” Gary sighed.
“I mean it,” Miles countered, “and…” he interjected after a long pause, “tacos and fried ice cream.”
“Oh, holy hell…are you completely high? And I suppose you expect me to wear a fuc--… freaking sombrero and hire a goddamn mariachi band?”
“Sure, why not?”
“Great, just great. Tacos, fried ice cream, sombrero, mariachi. Anything else, El Capitán?”
“Nope. Just put me down for one—plus guest.”
Chapter Fourteen
Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh, whoosh, whoosh, whoooooooooosh…… Through her protective headphones, Maribel heard the dominating pulse of the helicopter blades, gyrating through the air. She squeezed Miles’ hand as the massive machine lifted off the helipad on the rooftop of Miles’ condo building and into the twilight sky. It suspended them high above the entire cityscape, soaring like angels over the mortal world, and cruised faster and faster across the infinite blue horizon of Lake Michigan. The chilling wind beat against the helicopter’s doors; it made Maribel shiver with fear and delight. Miles swept his broad arm around her—a motion of comfort and security. Ahead in the cockpit, they heard the pilots reciting the navigation calls through their headsets. Maribel peered out across the vast swimming tides. The jagged city skyline was only a distant memory. There was nothing to break their fall into the uniform waters except the Laws of Gravity and the Laws of Fate.
And then, as quickly as they jetted into the sky and across Lake Michigan, they slowed their pace and descended to the earth. With skill and grace, the helicopter touched down into an expansive manicured pasture, as if the machine was nothing more than a floating bubble settling down in front of a magical lakefront estate, pitched along rolling hills and cliff rocks. The navigating co-pilot exited the cockpit and assisted Maribel’s exit. The shuffle of masculine hands and the whirling helicopter wind pushed her away from the machine and through the garden terrace towards the glowing lights of the Prairie-style mansion. She slowed her gait as Miles’ protective hand embraced her own, and led them up a stone stairway and into the open patio, as if it was his own residence.
Several couples mingled near an open pit fireplace with cocktails and inflated laughter. They turned and greeted Miles with familiarity.
“You just can’t arrive in limousines like the rest of us, can you, Brax?” one of the women exclaimed.
“It wouldn’t be Miles Braxton-Worth any other way,” her date replied. “Glad to see you finally made it. Gary said you’ve been tied up with extracurricular activities. Can’t wait to hear all about them.”
“Nothing to tell, Pete. Business as usual.”
“Which means he doesn’t kiss and tell, Pete,” the woman said with a flirtatious shrug of her bare shoulder.
“Well, neither do I—officially,” Pete countered, flashing his wedding band.
The woman rolled her eyes with haughty disgust. It suddenly was clear to Maribel that she wasn’t Pete’s wife. Maribel glanced at the woman. She was dressed in a sleek silver dress and vibrant purple stiletto heels. She sipped from her martini and eyed Maribel. Women always know how to size up other women, Maribel thought, as she locked hands with Miles who passed her through the sliding screen doors and away from the couple without introductions.
“Brax, I’m starting up a new hedge fund in China, we should talk…” Pete called after them.
Miles nodded, but towed them into the house without delay. Maribel glanced back at the woman, whose eyes spread up and down her like greasy Vaseline. Maribel suddenly felt self-conscious in her sequined cocktail dress and shearling coat that Miles had chosen for her to wear. At the time, Maribel thought he wanted her to wear it to complement his ivory Italian suit and lavender shirt. But now, she understood the real reason: Maribel was the newcomer—the novelty—and everyone would be watching and whispering about her.
They entered the grand living room, its glass-paneled walls and cathedral ceilings echoing the mariachi music. Guests mingled near the elegant mahogany bar and lounged around a billiard table. Maribel caught an inviting draft from the freestanding fireplace, suspended in the middle of the room like a burning cyclone of modern art.
“Brax—” a voice boomed over the trumpets and maracas.
Maribel turned towards a tall, handsome man jetting towards them. He was wearing a tailored suit with matching vest and a ridiculously large black sombrero.
Miles shook his hand, immediately. “Impressive,” he said, noting the guests, live band, catering staff, and finally his friend’s ostentatious sombrero.
“I am both a man of the law and a man of my word,�
�� Miles’ friend replied, throwing back his tumbler and crunching down on its ice.
His lawyer, Maribel thought. She always envisioned Miles’ foul-mouthed lawyer as a short, pudgy, bald, exceedingly ugly man. But instead, Gary was fashionable, tanned, and beautiful—like all of his other guests.
Gary suddenly eyed Maribel. “I wasn’t certain you were going to show, and now, I understand why. Please tell me this is the little mouse with whom you’ve been sneaking your cheese for the entire weekend and all shall be forgiven.” Gary moved behind Maribel and politely removed her coat.
Miles smirked with Cheshire mischief. Clearly, they were old friends who knew more about each other than they cared to share. Maribel expected Miles to officially introduce her, but Gary cut in first.
“Congratulations, Brax. You’ve got everyone chasing their tails. No one expected this deal to be postponed for this long.”
“I’m not the one who decided to shop it.”
“But you were the one who decided to put a freeze on it all weekend long. So are you here to close it, or not?”
“That depends… how much am I supposed to give up?”
“I have the seventy-page contract on my desk in the den,” Gary lowered his voice, and crunched down on his last cube of ice. “They’ve included every single deal point except the escalation. They’re keeping it at eight. But you’ve got him by the balls because Olson doesn’t want to be in Harvey Zale’s palm…. Hello, Marzena, lovely as always,” Gary suddenly took the woman’s hand and swept her close for a side kiss on the cheek.
“Thank you, darling,” she slurred with her heavy Slavic accent. “I love the Mexican hor d’oeuvres and the margaritas.” She lifted up her empty glass.
“Yeah, requested by the man of the hour,” Gary nodded at Miles.
“Nice to see you, Brax,” the woman held out her hand for Miles to touch it, just as she was slinking away to the bar. “It’s been such a long time.”
“Marzena, tell him to be nice to me tonight,” Gary teased. “I’m on his side.”
Marzena pouted on cue. “Don’t be too much of a meanie tonight, Brax. It’s still so early. Do whatever Gary wants, then come have a drink.”
The woman never once looked at Maribel and Maribel noticed it. She also noticed how Miles’ eyes lingered on the woman’s fishnet stockings and how it was she who finally pulled away from his fingertips. It was as if everyone had forgotten Maribel was even in the room, including Miles.
“Escalation at eight percent is bargain for them,” Miles flipped back to business. “I asked for thirteen.”
“Don’t be a stubborn son-of-a-bitch, Brax. Olson’s here to do the deal, and I can probably get him to nine. But he’s ready to sign, and the contract has the escalation set at eight. He’s been waiting for you the last freaking hour. If you blow up the deal tonight, all bets are off.”
Miles scanned the grand living room. His eyes rested on a group of laughing guests near the decorative champagne waterfall.
“What’s she doing here?” Miles suddenly narrowed his eyes.
“Gillian?” Gary countered, following his gaze. “She’s with them. I know you dropped her on her ass, but she’s still their broker on the deal. Plus, you know Gillian better than anyone… she’s a canine bitch—her jaws won’t open until her teeth meet.”
Maribel glanced at the group. There was an older, stout man in a navy suit and a mature woman with bleached hair and heavy make-up, standing beside him, touching his elbow… The wife. Then, Maribel saw another blonde woman, holding a margarita with a pink umbrella. She threw back her head with grating laughter from her full red lips. Maribel recognized her from the department store, but more importantly, she recognized the way Miles was glaring at her. Was this all about business or personal revenge? Maribel felt Miles suddenly loosen his grip from her hand—a signal that he was losing him to them.
Miles nodded over to the group. “Are you going to bring them over, or do I have to do everything?” he snapped at Gary.
Gary smirked with a glint in his eye. He stopped a server in a black catering uniform and lifted up two glasses of white wine from his tray. He passed them off to Miles and Maribel. “Take the edge of first… I’ll see if I can warm him up before getting you two in the same room.”
Gary stole a tray of hor d’oeuvres from another server, then swaggered over to the group and greeted them with exuberance. Maribel glanced at the server—dark eyes, dark hair, olive skin. The server seemed lost without her tray and purpose in the room. The woman did not make eye contact with Maribel; she simply scurried across the hardwood floors and up the stairs. Maribel glanced around at the rest of the catering staff. She suddenly felt like an imposter at a costume party.
Maribel glanced over to Miles. They were alone—their first moment of privacy since they had left the city. She waited for a word of encouragement from him, a gentle touch of his hand or a tender smile. But instead, he downed his wine and gazed over at Gary, who was schmoozing the group with boisterous conversation and self-deprecating jokes about his sombrero. She watched as Miles’ eyes fell back onto the intense glowing helix of the fireplace. His jaw flinched with agitation and his blue eyes hardened like marbles. He was the one in-charge. He was the one who called the shots. Everyone needed him now. And yet, he was the one who seemed trapped by his own inability to let it all go.
“I must have the honor of meeting your gorgeous date…”
The smooth voice came from behind Maribel. The attractive man immediately held out his hand to her and introduced himself. “Timothy.”
“Maribel.” It was the first person who had introduced himself to her all night.
“Pleasure to meet you,” Timothy released her hand with a nod, then turned his attention to Miles. “Gary didn’t think you would show. He accused me of not properly doing my job.”
“You can only manage my money, Timmy. You can’t manage me.”
“Well, that’s certainly true. I suspect your new lovely friend has learned that lesson as well.” Timothy’s eyes twinkled at her. They were friendly and unpretentious, and she finally felt at ease in the conversation.
“Brax,” Gary abruptly called out across the room. “C’mon over here so we can draw swords and fight to the pain.”
Maribel watched Miles smile reluctantly.
“There you go,” Timothy nodded, sipping from his brandy. “Leave it to Gary to force all the enemies in one room, just to see how much blood they’ll draw.”
“Five minutes,” Miles said to Maribel, “and then we’ll go outside to look at the stars.” He tried to sound reassuring. She knew he was there to do the deal, but she also felt her heart sink when he turned to leave her behind. “Take care of her for me,” Miles instructed Timothy.
“If she can handle you, Brax, I’m fairly certain she can hold her own.”
Maribel forced a smile. She wasn’t a child. She could hold her own.
Miles winked at her before crossing the living room and reuniting with Gary. Miles looked alert and confident, ready to do battle and win.
“You all have known each other for a long time, haven’t you?” Maribel said.
“Fraternity brothers from college. Except Brax—he got kicked out of the frat house after his first year.”
“Really, why?”
“He slept with the fraternity president’s girlfriend.” Timothy suddenly laughed and softened his voice. “Don’t look too concerned. The president was a real prick and his girlfriend deserved better…and got it. Brax fell in love with her and treated her like a queen. They got engaged within the year.”
Maribel couldn’t believe it. It sounded like the Miles she knew—sweet, romantic, devoted—and yet, it was a part of his life that he had never dared to acknowledge. “What happened?”
“Life—” Timothy replied. “Brain aneurysm. She didn’t even make it to the hospital. Too bad, too. She was a great girl. You know… you look a little bit like her, if you don’t mind me saying.”
> “No, I don’t mind…” Maribel said, her voice trailing off in thought.
Maribel and Timothy paused in silence and gazed into the mesmerizing plasma churn of the fireplace. Suddenly, the Olson group burst out with laughter. Miles was their center of attention. It was hard to ignore how calm and comfortable he seemed around them.
“Anyway, I was a Finance major. Gary—Pre-law. Brax—Calculus… But Brax dropped out of college after Cristina died. Then, within six months, he had made his first million. That’s when Gary and I knew he was someone to stay close to…”
“He never told me how he made his money.”
Maribel’s eyes followed Miles. He was headed up a flight of stairs, but stopped to look back at Gillian who lingered behind him. They were staring at each other, as if they were the only ones in the room, and it suddenly made Maribel flush with jealousy.
“Yeah, Brax prides himself on being an enigma. See that guy?” Timothy nodded over to the man hunched on a stool at the bar. “That’s Brax’s former business partner. They both started working at the Chicago Board of Trade at the same time. Brax created a proprietary trading algorithm and Mitchell sold it to one of the big pension hedge funds for a ninety/ten split. That was the last time Brax ever let someone sell him short in a deal, I guarantee you. A year later, Brax created a second trading algorithm, and sold it himself. Five years later, Brax was buying his first downtown Chicago building while Mitchell was fighting foreclosure on his Northshore home. It was Brax who bailed him out. Paid off the debt and brought Mitchell back into the fold to manage their own hedge fund together. That’s the difference between owning your own destiny versus selling out someone else’s. It not a business strategy for Braxton, it’s a way of life.”
“I couldn’t agree more…”
“Hello, Gillian,” Timothy greeted her with politeness.
Priceless: Contemporary Billionaire Romance Novel Page 13