After advising Hunter there’s no limit as to how far I’ll go for a little girl I’ve never met, I lock my eyes with Hugo’s. “Shouldn’t you be heading off? Your shift starts in a little over five hours.”
The gleam in his eyes advises he understands my request. He is once again Isabelle’s shadow. He’s just being pretentious to let me off so easily. He told me I’d regret my decision to transfer him back to the head of operations for my empire, and he won’t give up the chance to boast for anything.
Foolish bastard.
14
My head pops up from an intense acquisition I never thought I’d peruse in my life when Roger enters my office. After a rigorous undertaking on the deep dark web, Hunter secured me an invitation to Callie’s sale. We were hoping our procurement would be under an alias, but regretfully, Vladimir is more clued on than a man of his years should be. The Popovs are notorious for leaving a paper trail. They do this for one reason—to make everyone they collude with easily distinguishable. The lack of transparency ensures only those already lost down the rabbit warren would dare to work with them. If you like your hands unstained, their company is not for you. The dirt on my hands is thick, but I’m optimistic that the outcome we’re aiming for will make the blemish less noticeable.
I save my personal reflection for a more appropriate time when Roger says, “If you want to make your ten o’clock meeting, boss, it would be best to leave now. Traffic is heavy.”
“Traffic is always heavy,” I mumble under my breath while standing to my feet. “Where are we meeting again?”
Having no clue my daftness of late has nothing to do with business aspirations and everything to do with a little girl who could be sold to a monster, Roger smirks about the slip of my astuteness before joining me inside my office. “Embers. Your table reservation was made by Ms. McGregor. She called to say she’s on her way. If we don’t leave soon, she may beat us there.”
That’s Roger’s way of saying I can’t cancel on Clara for the third time this week. She’s been ringing nonstop since my supposed unintentional ‘double date’ with Isabelle, Harlow, and Cormack circulated throughout our inner circle. I brushed off her first few attempts to reach out to me without the slightest bit of hesitation. Time is imperative to me, and it was needed on more than one pressing issue, but my thought process changed when I bumped into Cormack late yesterday afternoon. He was a shell of the man I interacted with when he aimed to wrangle the cash register at Harlow’s Scrumptious Haven into submission the morning following Isabelle’s birthday celebration. Although he had no clue what he was doing, his eyes were blatantly contrasting to the gloomy pair he’s owned since his father railroaded him. I had never seen him so comfortable in his own skin. He appeared truly happy.
I can’t express the same sentiment after bumping into him mid-meeting yesterday. His face was gaunt, his skin was flaky, and the dark circles rimming his eyes revealed his sleep had been as lackluster as mine the past four days. He was miserable, and although he didn’t have time to update me on the cause of his misery, a scholar on human psyche wasn’t required to unearth the reason for his dreary mood and shabby dress sense.
He was heartbroken.
Cormack and Clara aren’t close, but I can’t give Clara the chance to rectify that if I don’t lead by example. She looks up to me as if I am her brother—all her siblings do—but her admiration extends more to me than Cormack since she sees similarities in our stories. Not many people are aware of Clara’s loss. She kept it a secret because, unlike me, she didn’t use it to fuel her somewhat quenchless motives. She uses it to suffocate them instead.
“Please bring my car around.” Embers, another one of Cormack’s beloved babies, doesn’t have a parking lot. It will be quicker and more convenient for Roger to drive me to my appointment than seek a spot in one of Ravenshoe’s ever-growing infrastructures. “And Roger?” Only his head pops back into my office. The rest of his body remains outside. “Did you organize the flyers I requested at the start of the week?”
Since his smug grin is warranted this time around, I let it slide—barely!“Yes, boss. One was placed on the noticeboard this morning.”
“Good.” I dismiss him and his grinning face from my office with a wave of my hand before gathering up my suit jacket from the coat rack in the corner of the large space.
I’m torn on leaving things as they are, but time isn’t something I must unnecessarily hoard right now. Callie’s sale is scheduled on my calendar. Her father personally approved my invitation. All I can do now is wait.
After a final glance at a pair of eyes identical to Isabelle’s in every way, I place on my jacket, then join Roger outside. Hugo often quotes that you can’t fight fate. Up until a few months ago, I often wondered if he was cooking with gas. Fate brings people into your life, but it doesn’t keep them there.
Now I have more understanding of his infamous motto. If Isabelle had arrived for our date, I wouldn’t have asked Hunter to do a background search on her, then Hugo wouldn’t have noted several identifiable features between Isabelle and Callie.
In all honesty, I don’t know what the next step will be when I win Callie. I just know buying her is the right thing to do. I slide into the back seat of my town car before slamming the door shut, blocking out the noise of a jackhammer.
“What is that?” I ask Roger after wiggling my finger in my ear to loosen the squeal of the industrial equipment. “I thought Cormack put a hold on demolition work?”
The evening Cormack spent the night with Harlow saw him getting a guilty conscience. After ordering Levi to end negotiations for Harlow’s bakery, he organized for the bakeries we had placed in direct competition of Harlow’s to be decommissioned, so I’m lost as to what altered his mindset for the second time?
I know better than anyone about the unforgiving mistakes men make when suffering a broken heart. However, I’ve always believed Cormack was the smarter half of our duo. I win with looks—not that he’d ever agree with that.
My eyes met Roger’s in the rearview mirror when he says, “A gas leak was reported this morning. A cracked pipe was noted in an underground line. Hugo ordered excavation works.”
Confident I’m happy with his reply, he commences our short yet tedious commute. I’m proud of the mecca Ravenshoe has become. It is a thriving community full of hardworking, pride-hungry residents, but I’d give anything not to need twenty minutes to travel a couple of miles.
Although I complain, I utilize the time well. I trade half a million dollars in stock, secure a contractor to commence refurbishment on the nightclub I purchased two months ago, and listen to a radio interview Nick and his bandmates did on the West Coast earlier today. Their journey to success has been long, but Nick is slowly learning that success isn’t simple but extremely worthwhile when done right.
“Here will be fine,” I say to Roger, half a mile out from Embers. The cars in front of us stretch for at least a quarter-mile. It will be faster for me to walk. “I have an appointment with a real estate broker after this, so I will call when I need you.”
I smirk when Roger waves his hand over a stack of newspapers in the passenger seat. “I’ll be ready when you are.”
If I didn’t know any better, I’d swear he is the town gossip.
I slide out of the back seat of my town car and make it half a block down before I’m harassed by a flirty, playful voice, “You have to cancel the cake orders before my ass explodes.”
I wait a beat so I don’t appear desperate before spinning around to face Isabelle. She’s standing on the sidewalk across from me, looking ravishing in a body-hugging pair of jeans and a shirt that shows off her fantastic tits. Her hair is pulled up and off her face, and her makeup is light. She stands before now as temptingly enticing as she was when polished to perfection.
