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Even if it was to discuss numbers and the intended use of the building on Tenth Avenue.
“You really think you can talk himupin price?” My father’s voice betrayed every ounce of doubt.
“Of course. The man upped the offer on his own in our ten minutes of conversation. Why wouldn’t he respond to more pressure for a higher price tag? That will be easy once he sees the building.”
My father’s scowl deepened. Eli heaved an irritated sigh.
“As long as youpromisethis is in the interest of shareholders,” Eli said, pinning me with a suspicious look. “The Fairchild brothers deal dirty. You don’t want to get caught up in something sticky.”
“I assure you, there’s nothing more clear-cut than this property sale,” I said. It was a Herculean effort most days to school the annoyance out of my voice when Eli and I interacted. It had been that way for the past three years at least. Our marriage had been a slowly unraveling ball of yarn, the messy ball of knots you find in estate sales. I don’t think our marriage had ever been a lovely, well-maintained work of art. It had only ever been disjointed, a struggle. I couldn’t even remember the last time we’d shared a bed. Things had gotten so bad recently, I’d started staying at our Central Park condo.
The big D-word was on the horizon, but I wasn’t sure how to broach it yet. Eli still thought we had a future together. He never understood that I’d been groping for an escape hatch since the day we saidI do.
“That’s what everyone says right before they get caught in a web of scandal,” Eli said with a knowing smirk.
“I promise whatever web you get caught in won’t be because of this,” I said.
“I agree with Eli,” my father blurted. “Any business with those brothers is risky. I don’t want them even breathing near us.”
“See?” Eli smirked my way. “They’re a liability. Best to be avoided.”
“I agree with Cora,” Robert said, tipping his head in my direction. “He’s shown willingness to up the offer. I say we fleece him for whatever he’s willing to spend and offload the building ASAP.”
“Agree with Robert,” Frank said. “Cora, are you willing to enter into these negotiations?”
I fingered the diamond pendant again, feeling the first glimmer of excitement inside me for God knew how long. I’d been wearing this necklace like a talisman ever since I’d broken up with Axel, though I wasn’t sure if it offered protection from my reality or if it was more of a homing beacon, calling Axel back to me despite what I’d done to him.
The pendant had been created using the diamonds from the engagement ring he’d given me. I never had the heart to give it back to him, and giving it away didn’t seem right either.
So it became something new, created from the love I’d shared with Axel. They were the only diamonds that meant something to me. Certainly much more than the rock on my finger.
“If that’s what’s needed,” I said, schooling the excitement out of my voice. I was approaching the pinnacle of my career—about to become the CEO of Margulis Realty—but hell if it generated any enthusiasm. Millions of ascending businesswomen would give their ovaries to be in my position. Millions more businessmen would gouge their investments to be able to claim this title.
And me? I was about fucking done with it.
But I didn’t know where to turn. How to leave. Or what to even hope for.
I’d been imprisoned for so long by the expectations of my family, I could barely remember what it felt like to truly choose something for myself.
All I knew was that I had a sanctioned meeting with Axel Fairchild on the horizon.
That alone felt like a small win.
Something that would keep the Princess of Manhattan going for another quarter until I had everything they’d always wanted for me.
CHAPTER THREE
AXEL
Sandpaper comes in multiple grits. I learned this when I worked for a contractor in high school to help make my adoptive parents’ mortgage when money was tight.
There’s medium grit for small surface flaws. Coarse grits for big imperfections.
And then there’s cataclysmic grit, which was the current state of my mouth after the binge drinking shitshow of the night before.
I grunted, shifting on the soft surface that I could only assume was my bed. I didn’t have much memory of how my night had ended. I’d called an emergency party in the penthouse, invited a fuckton of friends and single girls to come over, and let the alcohol work its magic.
Truthfully, I was afraid to open my eyes and answer to the hangover that was no doubt lurking nearby. The overall grit of my mouth did not bode well for mental clarity today.
