by Amelia Wilde
I’d advise you not to fall any deeper into this trap.
It’s not a trap. Isabella isn’t doing this to get the better of me.
Can you really be sure about that?
The nagging thought follows me while I throw myself into a workout at the gym, shower, and head in to the office. I have big plans for today. Mike and I are going to decide on at least one of the properties that he’s located in the past couple of weeks, and I’m going to swing by the three new buildings—including Hamilton Heights—so we can discuss how the preliminary plans are going to proceed. Mike always rolls his eyes at me when I insist on doing this for all the new properties—he thinks my time is better spent meeting with investors—but I do plenty of that in the evenings, at exclusive dinner events and parties.
There’s nothing wrong with wanting a little more detailed control when you’re taking over real estate one building at a time. The rest of the world is going to be like New York for me soon. I’ll have all the hottest properties, and with people like Mike on my team, I’ll be able to find them at rock-bottom prices and make a killing.
I sigh when the town car pulls up next to the curb.
These plans don’t have my heart racing like they used to. The only thing that does it for me now is Isabella.
That thought stops me dead in the middle of the sidewalk, between the car and the building.
I can’t let that happen.
Isabella can’t be the only thing to excite me, to make me want to get up in the morning. Pace, Inc. has been my life since I graduated college, and I’m not willing to give it up. So why the hell do I feel resigned to the work I have today instead of humming with bloodlust for the next deal?
It’s an off day. That’s all this is. I’m still as invested in Pace, Inc. as I was three weeks ago, before she ever came into my life.
When the elevator doors open, I step out with a smile on my face, ready to get on with this. Meetings. Plans. Expansion. The excitement will come later. I’m sure of it.
I greet everyone I see, as usual, and I’m a moment away from poking my head into Mike’s office to see if he’s ready to get started when he rushes out, head down, his mouth set in a line. He’s so focused on getting wherever he’s going that he doesn’t see me.
“Whoa. Where’s the fire?” I put both hands up to stop him, and he skids to a dead halt in the middle of the hallway.
“You’re in early.” His voice is terse, almost monotone. I raise my eyebrows, and he puts a hand to his forehead. “I’m sorry, Jasper. That was out of line.”
“I am here early, but not that early. What’s going on?”
He flicks his eyes around him like the walls have ears, then beckons for me to follow him back into his office. I shut the door behind us.
“I think we have a problem with your father.”
We? If there’s anyone who has a problem with him—at least at this moment, it’s me. What the hell could Mike have to do with that? “What kind of problem? Last I knew, he was starting to back off a bit, heading for retirement. Don’t spread that around. I’m not sure what—”
“He’s pushing the Hamilton Heights property, and the other two you signed on in March. Wait—” He opens the folder and shuffles through the papers in his hand. “No, not all three. Only the ones from Brilliance.” Mike looks up at me, his forehead wrinkled from the stress. “I’ve been looking into the guarantees he made, and the leases, and trying to figure out what the hell happened since you first brought it up. I didn’t even know he knew—” Mike shakes his head. “That’s not important. Last night when I was packing up to leave, he came in here and told me there was no more time to waste on these, and that he’d sent new notices to the tenants there. He wants them out by the end of the month, not by the end of August.”
“He can’t do that.”
“I know that. But the people who live in the Hamilton Heights building might not.”
Shit, shit, shit. What the hell is my father thinking? I don’t want to keep Hamilton Heights—it’s not worth the hassle with the tenants.
Or Isabella.
No. Not Isabella. I can’t let her affect my decisions like this. Not at work. Not now.
“Did you ever get any information about the Spanish Harlem building? What about the tenants there?”
“I did. They’re still there, but all the leases end on the last day of May. It’s not as much of a problem.”
“It’s still a pretty big problem.”
“Yeah.” Mike nods, his expression grim. “I’m digging in today to make sure he has absolutely nothing to do with any of our past or prospective purchases.”
“Where are you going right now? You looked like you were in a pretty big hurry.”
Mike meets my eyes, but I can tell he’s uncomfortable as hell. “To your father’s office. He wanted to rush forward with starting renovations on the Hamilton Heights property even if the residents put up a fight—which they should, because they’re well within their rights.”
I take in a disbelieving breath. My father has no reason to get involved in this, other than to—I don’t know, teach me some lesson about women like Isabella Gabriel. It’s true that if he can force out the current tenants and flip the building, we’ll get payoff from it much sooner.
There’s a sickening twist in my gut when the realization hits. I would have done the same thing, not too long ago. I might have even done the same thing now, if it weren’t for Isabella. She’s willing to do anything to help her mother—and by extension the rest of the people in the building. I haven’t even taken the time to find out what kind of community they’ve established, what they already offer the neighborhood…I was willing to bulldoze the entire thing to grow my empire.
I give Mike a nod. “Thanks for telling me. You should get over there. He’s probably got the architect waiting. Sit in on whatever this meeting is. Give him your two cents.”
“Okay.” Mike turns to go, his shoulders sagging.
“Mike.”
“Yeah?”
“You did the right thing. I’ll figure out what the hell he’s up to.”
He smiles, his lips still pressed together, like he’s not quite convinced. Then he’s gone.
35
Isabella
My heart is pounding so furiously that Bernadette’s words make no sense whatsoever.
I couldn’t sleep last night. By the time I got back to the office—probably with Jasper’s scent all over me, but I hadn’t wanted to stop for a shower—Bernadette was gone.
“Where did she go?” I shouted at Angelique.
“Her son’s final track—what do they call them, when it’s track and field? Tournaments? Meets?”
“I have no idea,” I’d grumbled. Bernadette should have at least left a note, but she probably knew that whatever explanation she left in writing would also need to be talked through.
“She said she’d be in first thing tomorrow.”
“She’s always in first thing.”
Angelique gave me a look. “I know things are moving fast, Isa, but it is after five.”
I waved my hands in the air. “I know. I know.” Yes, I expect a lot from my staff, but I also try not to be a tyrannical bitch. It’s not a good business model. “I’m fine. Why are you still here?”
She grinned at me. “Bernadette wanted to make sure someone was here to...intercept you when you came back.”
“She knows me too well.” I took in a deep breath, squaring my shoulders. “You should head out. This is a normal Monday.”
“Sure it is.” She grabbed her purse from her desk. “Walk you out?”
I opened my mouth to say that I had a few things to finish up, but who was I kidding? I wasn’t going to be able to focus on anything until I could talk to Bernadette.
And now, the next morning, Bernadette is talking and I can hardly take it in.
“Okay. Wait a second.” I take a deep breath, close my eyes, and push all the other thoughts out of my mind. “Tak
e me through this one more time.”
Bernadette flips patiently back to the first paper in the stack on her desk. “The newest appraisals came back from the storefronts. It will take some doing, but you should be able to leverage the equity you’ve gained from the appraisals, which were higher than I expected, to purchase the building in Hamilton Heights.”
“I have the money?”
“You have the money in a sense.” She shakes her head. “I wouldn’t do this, Isa, unless you’re absolutely sure these storefronts are going to be in the black sooner rather than later. There is nothing left—no wiggle room—if you do this.”
I give her a sly look. “That’s what you said about these buildings, and look—wiggle room.” She exhales sharply through her nose, and I back off. “I know, Bernadette. I know. But the situation with—” I almost slip up and say Jasper. “—the situation with my mom has recently become pressing. This is the best option.”
Bernadette closes the folder and folds her hands on the table, looking me squarely in the eye. “Are you sure about that?”
“About what?”
“About purchasing this building. You’re positive she wouldn’t be willing to consider moving to a different location? Maybe somewhere closer to your place?”
I think of how hard my mom fought to move out of her old building. She couldn’t stop smiling when the super handed her the keys to the place in Hamilton Heights. The first time she stepped across the threshold and flipped the deadbolt behind her, she cried tears of joy. “Oh, Isa, it’s perfect.” It had been the perfect day, too—uncharacteristically cool for August, which meant she could throw open the windows for a nice breeze. “I never want to leave this place. Not until I have to go into a home.”
It would be a hard sell, convincing her to leave her victory apartment to be closer to me. I’m not home often enough for it to be worthwhile for her, and Evie works constantly, too. She needs her neighborhood.
“I really don’t think so.” Even if I could convince her, it’s going to be June before we know it. If my mother ever leaves her apartment, it won’t be a season-long discussion. I anticipate it taking somewhere in the order of years.
Of course, if I don’t pull off this purchase—and if Jasper goes back on his word—I might only have the rest of the summer for it anyway.
“Okay,” Bernadette gives in, but I’m lost in thought again. Jasper could go back on his word. Or I could sign the papers and accept his loan. Even that seems less feasible by the day. I don’t want to take his money and launch some complicated plan to buy the building from him. I want to do it myself, like I’ve done everything else in my life. “I’m behind you whatever you decide, Isabella. I want you to be aware of the risks.”
I reach out and pat her hand. “I know, Bernie. You’ve never let me down.” Then I stand up from my seat and take the folder. “I have some phone calls to make.”
I’m outside the door when Bernadette swivels back to her computer. “She’s unstoppable,” she says in a soft voice, almost under her breath. She must think I’m out of earshot.
You’re right about that.
I make a beeline for my office. Angelique looks up at me from her desk. “I’ll hold your calls.”
“You really get me,” I tell her, and then I’m closing the door behind me. Behind my desk, I take one steadying breath and dial Jasper’s office number.
“Mr. Pace’s office.” I’d recognize that voice anywhere—and it’s not Jasper’s, it’s his executive assistant Christine’s.
“Hi, Christine. This is Isabella Gabriel, calling for Mr. Pace.”
“Hi, Isabella!” Her tone is almost too chirpy, but that’s better than terse. “He’s not in right now, unfortunately. Can I take a message?”
“Do you—” Jasper didn’t mention being booked for the morning, but then again, I’m not his executive secretary—why would he? “You know what, I can call back later. Thanks, Christine.”
I hang up, drumming my fingers against the surface of my desk.
I don’t want to wait until Jasper’s out of his meeting. Or wherever he is.
I’m probably rushing into this, but maybe it would be better if I went through official channels at Pace, Inc. It’d be more professional to deal with his people directly. After all, it’s not Jasper who’s going to do all the legwork to sell me the building, when he does.
I search for the main reception number for Pace, Inc. and dial again. It takes two transfers, but finally a man named Lowell picks up the phone.
“Lowell Wexler, Head of Real Estate Acquisitions.”
“And sales, too, I hope.”
He laughs, his voice deep and rich. “I understand I’m speaking with Isabella Gabriel. I’ve seen you in the press lately.” My stomach tightens at the sly tone.
“I’m calling because I wanted to speak to someone directly about purchasing one of your properties.” I cut right to the chase. No more time to lose.
“Which property were you interested in? I know Mr. Pace and his son haven’t been interested in selling for some time, but I’m happy to look one up for you.”
“An apartment building in Hamilton Heights.” I give him the address.
I can hear his fingers on the keyboard of a computer. “Hmm. Oh—that’s a recently acquired property, Ms. Gabriel. Pace, Inc. won’t be looking to make a sale on that building until after the development has been completed. And it looks like it’s slated to begin rather soon. You might do better to call back in a few months.”
“Yes, I realize that, but—wait, how soon?”
“I’m sorry I couldn’t help you, Ms. Gabriel. I’ll pass along the message that you called.”
Then, before I can get another word out, he hangs up.
36
Jasper
My head is throbbing when I step out the front doors of Pace, Inc., but with every block the town car gets from the building, the pain lessens.
So today was a shitty day, and my dad is becoming unhinged in his old age. Mike Ford reported back that he’s had the design team working all day on a new set of designs to replace the ones I’ve already looked at for Hamilton Heights. I don’t know what he thinks he’s doing—at some point, he’ll need to talk to me directly about it—but it’s enough to make the muscles at the back of my neck feel tight and tense.
Isabella is the solution. She always is.
But when I get to the penthouse, she’s not there.
As soon as I open the door, the ringing silence confronts me.
I told Lucas not to come in for another hour to start preparing dinner because Isabella was supposed to meet me right after the office. I’ve been fantasizing about her ever since I got in the car. I was convinced, until I opened the door, that she’d be kneeling on the carpet, those flashing green eyes on the floor, her lips parted in anticipation. She’s been ready for me every single evening since last Wednesday, when I rushed into her office like a lovesick teenager.
Something’s off.
I send a text to her phone.
Working late? :)
The smiley face is a last-second addition. Something probably did come up at work—it’s not like I expect her to shelve her ambition to have sex with me as soon as humanly possible every day—but I don’t want her to think I’m watching the clock, waiting for her arrival.
Even if that’s exactly what I’m doing.
When she’s not there after fifteen minutes, I head to the master bathroom, strip off my clothes, and take a shower. She’ll undoubtedly be here by the time I’m out.
I take my time toweling off and choosing a button-down and pair of shorts, but there’s no alert on my phone that the elevator is incoming, no soft whirr of the machinery as it lifts the car up to the penthouse.
When the doors do open, it’s to reveal Lucas, who is surprised to see me in the living room.
“Mr. Pace, hi. I thought—” He presses his lips closed, reddening slightly.
“It’s Jasper to you.” I put a jovi
al smile on my face. “Don’t mind me. I’ll be…doing my thing.” It sounds awkward and strange, but Lucas nods and disappears down the hall.
A twinge of worry settles in the pit of my gut and starts a slow bloom. Not only is Isabella not here, she’s also gone totally radio silent. It’s not unlike her to take a while to answer—she gets immersed in her projects like I do—but after the weirdness with Mike Ford in the morning, my father’s endless meetings all day, and that snarky comment he made about things she’d asked me not to do, everything is taking on a sinister tone.
I rub my hands over my face. For all my dad’s bluster, he hasn’t made it far with the new plans he’s intending to carry out on the two buildings from Brilliance. The one thing that’s going to be a problem is when Isabella’s mother gets notice that he’s going to try and force everyone out in less than two weeks.
I should have called her about that, given her warning, but I bet the letters won’t arrive until tomorrow or Thursday. I still have a chance to smooth out the whole thing, even if that means I have to go to the property in Hamilton Heights myself and assure people that the letters are the act of a madman and not Pace, Inc.’s actual wishes.
The call comes in a little after seven, and I answer on reflex. It’s probably Isabella. She’s probably so sorry about working late, and she’s probably on her way right now.
“Hello?”
“You’ll never guess which charming creature came to meet with me.” My father’s voice is ringing with satisfaction.
“Dad.” It’s all I can do not to sigh out loud. “Don’t call me with this bullshit. I get that you’re pissed off, and we can talk about that at the office tomorrow, but it’s been a long day and—”
“Your little girlfriend.”
The words make my stomach recoil, but I take another breath in and let it out. “I sincerely doubt that Isabella wanted to meet with you. She doesn’t even know you.”