by Lily Zante
BRANDON
* * *
“You want to do what?” Neville grinds out.
“I want no part of Greenways. We’re walking away.”
“Are you sick, Brandon? What are you talking about?”
“I’m not sick. I just don’t want it. The people there are already doing great work. They should be allowed to continue it without the likes of me moving in for pure greed.”
Neville roars, and when I stand silently, eyeing him like a mental asylum’s new intake, he suddenly stops. “You’ve gone all soft. Do you have any idea how much money we’re going to make on this deal?”
“I don’t want the money.”
“You don’t want … you don’t want the money? Why would you say something like that?”
“I’m being deadly serious. I don’t want the land. I’m not going after it.”
“And the government project? The eminent domain proposition? What the hell do you want me to do with Charlie Stagg?”
“Nothing.”
“But think of the money—”
“Your job is to do what I say. You leave the thinking to me.” Neville’s horrified expression at hearing my instruction borders on comical. “It’s only money, Neville. There’ll be another deal, another opportunity.”
“I don’t know what’s gotten over you, Brandon. You’re … different. Working for that woman has turned you into a loser.”
“Shut the fuck up.”
To my amusement, he does. It’s almost instant. He coughs lightly before going through the folder on the desk. “McGovern Holdings, they never received the signed paperwork from you.”
McGovern Holdings. I rack my brains to remember. “I don’t remember signing them.” And then I recall. “Fuck.” Those were the contracts I’d asked Emma to pick up from the office and deliver to my house on the night of Cardoza’s fight. I hadn’t signed them because, after the accident, it had been the last thing on my mind.
Neville observes me quietly. “It’s messing you up, this little game you’re playing. This undercover billionaire bullshit.”
My head snaps up at his curse. The guy is angry because my decision to walk away from Greenways means that he also loses out on a lucrative cut. Government officials aren’t easy to find and corrupt. It takes money.
“Emma was supposed to pick that paperwork up from the office and leave it at my house. Obviously, that never happened and that’s the reason why I never signed anything. Do you have a copy I can sign now?”
“It’s not that simple,” Neville cautions. “They have other interested parties.”
Typical. “They’re having a hissy fit because I didn’t sign the contract on time?”
“You haven’t called them or said a word. It’s been complete silence from you. What do you want them to think?”
“They need to know the truth. My PA was involved in a serious car accident. Not that they will care,” I mutter under my breath. I want the deal. I need to fix this. I swipe a hand over my brow. “I’ll fly out there. I’ll meet them in person.” That’s what it will take. An in-person meeting. The friendly touch. Face to face.
“Do you want me to come along?” Neville offers. A rare request, because he tends to want to do the bare minimum. I cock my head at him, assessing the motivation behind this. He’s afraid I’ll mess up. He already thinks I’m losing it. He can’t afford for me to lose my head over too many deals, otherwise this lazy slug of a man will lose out on his fat checks.
I shake my head. “I can handle this alone.”
The intercom buzzes. “Jessica is on line one,” my new PA announces. I hiss out an aggravated breath. Emma would have known to hold all my calls especially when I’m in a meeting. “Stall her.”
“I’ve tried. This is the third time she’s called this morning.”
I know how forceful Jessica can be, and I’m thankful, in a way, for her interruption. At least it will help me to get rid of Neville. “I’ll meet with the people from McGovern next week,” I tell Neville. “You’ll have to excuse me.”
“But what about Greenways?”
“I told you about Greenways. I don’t want it.”
“You need to think very carefully, Brandon—”
“I have a call to take. Please excuse me.”
I wait for him to heave his big body out of the chair and slowly make his way to the door. When he leaves, I slump back in relief and take the call from Jessica. This is timely. Killing two birds with one stone. She’s another problem I no longer want to deal with.
“I barely see you these days, Brandon.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose. “I’ve been busy.”
“You’ve always made time for me.”
“You know how it is.”
“Is that little do-gooder keeping you busy?”
The malice in her tone makes me wonder if she suspects something. I effect a dismissive laugh. “I have a new PA, and it’s been challenging, to say the least, getting things done around here.”
She pauses, making me wonder what I have given away. “That’s an evasive answer if ever I heard one.”
“I’m busy, Jessica. Did you call for a reason?” I don’t even care if that is too blunt. I have a lot of things to resolve and Jessica sucking up my time is the last thing I need.
“You don’t have time for me anymore,” she laments, like the spoiled brat that she is. To think that I once considered her as wife material when I used to acquire things because I needed to confirm the man I now was. Because I was so desperate to push the past away.
The problem with my experiment with Kyra and Redhill is that it has put the past firmly in my present. I see it every Wednesday night because Yvette insists on bringing her kids to the food nights.
“I’m hosting a special arts night at the gallery next week. I want you there.”
Next week I have plans to fly to Boston to meet with McGovern Holdings. “I’ll see. I’m busy and I’ll probably be out of state for a few days.”
She scoffs. “You can’t even give me one night?”
“We didn’t have any nights, Jessica.”
“We hadn’t yet, no.”
“And we won’t,” I state, a chill icing my words.
“You have other interests,” she remarks. Cool and offhanded.
“I have many business interests to take care of.”
“Then come to the gallery for one last time. At least give me that,” she begs. The airwaves fall silent as I consider this final request. “It’s going to be pretty amazing. I’ve worked really hard to put it together.”
She leaves me no choice. It’s the least I can do. “When?” She gives me the date and time, and I hastily scribble it down in my diary. I tell her I’ll do my best to be there.
Then I stare at the dates on my calendar. Not only do I need to spend a day or two at most in Boston, I also owe Kyra. I want to make it up to her. She deserves to see a part of the real me while I try to figure out a way to get myself out of this mess.
Chapter Forty-Two
KYRA
* * *
“Are you ready?” he asks. We’ve driven over to the Loop. He’s told me nothing so far, and I was surprised when he said he’d pick me up at eight. The evening has already turned dusky.
I’d expected that we’d spend most of the day together, but as I’m quickly finding out, I should never underestimate things when it comes to Brad. He’d also told me to wear long slacks and a fitted jacket. That should have alerted me to the fact that it wasn’t a movie and dinner—or that he’s psychotic and controlling and that I should stay away.
I’m even more confused when he heads away from the buzzing area filled with bars and restaurants and I see signs for a heliport. I’m glad I had an apple and a small cup of yogurt before I left, otherwise I would be starving. “Where are we going?”
“You’ll see.”
He quirks a smile at me, almost tugging at my hand as I slow down. We soon turn the corner and I see a heli
port directly in front of me, and a bright red helicopter with a big white H on the side.
“We’re going on a helicopter ride?” I suck in a breath. This man doesn’t do things by half.
Movie, dinner and a walk; these were the things I had in mind. Not a helicopter ride. This is all so different and exciting.
“Are you afraid of flying?” he asks, when I fall silent. Luckily, I’m not.
“What would you do if I was?” I ask, just to test the waters.
“I’d blindfold you and throw you into the helicopter. No point in wasting a good ride.”
My eyes pop. He sees the fear on my face, then puts his arm around my shoulder, hugging me to his side. He laughs. “Of course I wouldn’t. I’d ask you what you wanted to do.”
I let out an exaggerated sigh. “That’s good to know, and by the way, I’m not afraid of flying.”
“Then we’re good.”
He greets a couple of people who seem to be waiting for us, while I stare at the helicopter and look for signs for damage and wear and tear. Under the lights, it looks pretty good.
“Shall we?” Brad holds out his hand.
“Already?” I assumed we’d have to wait, even though this is a night-time ride. I’ve heard from others that these things are popular and I was expecting more people.
“Yes. Already.”
Brad introduces me to the pilot who seems very familiar and easy-going; it’s as if they know one another. I’m amazed at how good Brad is with people, and as I watch him talking, I realize that I’ve only known him in a very limited capacity. Here, with others, away from the factory and the food nights, he seems like a different person, in charge and in command. He takes my hand and leads me towards the helicopter.
“Aren’t we supposed to have safety instructions or something?” I imagined that we would have something like we do in an airline flight.
“I’ve been on a couple of these things before. Trust me. You’ll be okay.”
There it is again. The self-assured attitude. It’s almost as if he and the guy are friends.
“Do you do this often?” I ask, my heart thumping with fear.
“Not often, no. You look scared. Don’t be. I’ve got you.” He helps me in, and after a few reassuring words from the pilot, we’re in the air.
“Hey, Kyra, you okay?” It’s only when he asks me that I realize I’m gripping Brad’s hand extra tight. I nod.
Sitting beside him, with the world at our feet, I try not to get too intoxicated by the moment. The helicopter lifts up and away. Goosebumps shimmy across my arms, and my heart glides in my ribcage, soaring with the headiness of this moment.
Brad is doing something special for me. I’m a lucky gal.
“Would you like me to give a commentary?” the pilot asks. I stare at Brad, who raises an eyebrow at me. Once again, I’m unsure what’s going on. And then I start to get nervous. What if this is his friend? What if he’s not a qualified pilot? What if this is Brad’s way of trying to impress me? What if there isn’t proper insurance in place?
“Sure, why not?”
Why not? Aren’t they supposed to give a running commentary of the sights on these trips?
My doubts amplify. “Is this safe?” I whisper to Brad.
He must sense the unmistakable fear in my voice because he puts his arm around me and kisses me on the top of my head. “This is safe. I would never put you in danger. Mark, would you mind telling Kyra how long you’ve been doing this for?”
“Sixteen years. You’re in good hands, ma’am.”
“Hear that? Sixteen years.” He drops a kiss on my neck. The scent of his aftershave lingers in the air, and as I bury my face in his arm, it’s all I can smell.
Safely snuggled up against him, I start to feel better. Looking out, the skyline resembles a jeweled spider’s web cast all over the city which is ablaze with tall buildings all lit up.
The pilot mentions Willis Tower and Millennium Park as we fly over them. The aerial views of Navy Pier and Centennial Wheel are resplendent in the dark black velvet sky.
Every view is breath-taking.
I imagine in the daytime we’d get a better feel for each landmark and building, but Brad picked the right time, because at night, the city is magical. I feel as if I’m gliding around on a carpet flying above a sea of jewels. It is beautiful and rare, seeing the city from this angle, and in a way that very few people are able to.
Sitting close to Brad, the fear slowly leaves my body, and I crane my neck, eagerly looking out and around at the sights from this high up. “How long do we have?” I ask him after a while. This is as perfect a night as any, and for a first date, it’s unforgettable. I don’t want it to end.
“As long as you want.”
His cryptic answer confuses me. “How long did you book for?” I glance at my watch. We’ve been up here for about twenty minutes.
“How long did you want?” I’m convinced that he’s in cahoots with the pilot. They’re friends, and that’s why he’s able to do this. It makes sense, the friendliness between the two men, the slacking off of rules and regulations. All of it.
“You’re sure this is safe?”
“It’s safe.” He traces a finger along my lip. “You’re worrying, and it’s the last thing I wanted for our first time out. This is my small way to trying to make it up to you, Kyra.”
I swallow and decide to get over my niggling worries. Brad wouldn’t put my life in danger. He cares for me. He’s gone out of his way for me to meet Emma, and now he’s dazzling me with this beautiful night. I should learn to relax and enjoy this.
“Let’s stay a little bit longer,” I murmur, watching Wrigley Field below us, the green shimmering and floodlit.
The pilot soon stops talking, and I sit back and take in everything, but most of all, I marvel at the thought of me being up so high in the sky, with Brad, the new man in my life.
It feels as if I’ve turned a corner. I have never felt as cherished as this before. The first thing I do when we set back down on the ground, and we’ve thanked the pilot and walked away, is kiss him, long and deep, and with all the feeling in my heart. “Thank you for the best night of my life.”
* * *
BRANDON
* * *
She looks as if I’ve given her the world. I’ve never seen anyone look so happy, and all this just after a helicopter ride. Keeping my real life separate from the life Kyra thinks I lead is tricky. Pretending that Mark is someone new, and that the helicopter doesn’t belong to me is tricky.
How will I ever explain to her?
We walk up a few stairs which lead to one of the best restaurants in the city. I’m reverting back to my Brandon Hawks playbook; not because I need to impress Kyra but because she deserves the best, and she expects so little. She does so much for others, and she doesn’t get all that love and attention back.
I wanted this night to be special for her.
“Do you come here often?” she asks, after the maître d’ has greeted us and shown us to our table. The man talks to me with a familiarity that makes me feel nervous. As much as I’m trying to get ready to tell her some things, I’m aware that the power of observation will plant more questions in her head. The last thing I need is for anyone to run into me and call me by my real name.
Perhaps I have become careless in my attempt to show her some of the real me. If the sleek and chic ambiance of this place hasn’t clued her in, the row of expensive cars parked outside should have done.
“I come here for business, mostly,” I tell her as we make ourselves comfortable in our plush seats. I’ve been here twice this month already—in my other life I lead away from Redhill—because this is the place to come to in order to impress people. I picked this place on a busy Saturday night hoping that I won’t run into business people.
“You mean for your start-ups?” She looks as if she doesn’t know whether to believe me. “I thought when you said start-up you were talking about you and a few guys starting
something at the kitchen table.”
“Perception is everything. I have ideas and I believe in the project, and coming here signals those things.”
“It also signals that you have a lot of money.”
We stare at one another. I wonder if she’s testing me, if she knows or suspects more. In my desire to want to show her a good time, I might have been a bit too eager and overplayed things.
“It must be a cool project.” She looks at me over the menu, her eyes widening as she glances back at it again.
“It is. I think it’s one you’d like.” She has no idea that the real project I have in mind has to do with her and her dreams and vision for Greenways. After my instructions to Neville the other day, I’ve decided that instead of walking away, I can invest heavily in Redhill, as well as Greenways. I can give her that dream she has of expanding the factory. I can make that happen for her now. And I can get her goddamn roof fixed ASAP.
“I have no interest in online gaming,” she says, perusing the menu.
“I guess not. What would you like?” I ask, nodding at the menu.
“It all looks good.” She chews her lip.
“If you don’t like anything here we can go someplace else.”
“It’s not that. The food sounds delicious.”
“Then?”
She shakes her head, then closes the menu but still holds onto it. “It’s nothing.”
“It doesn’t look like it’s nothing.”
She chews her lip again. “I just … I just can’t help feeling lucky for everything I have.”
It’s guilt. She looks at the menu and now she feels guilty. “You’re already doing everything to help people less fortunate than you. Your food nights initiative, it’s a fantastic thing. But it doesn’t mean that you should feel guilty just because—”
“That’s not what I meant. That’s not it at all. I’m just really grateful for everything I have. This,” she rolls her shoulders and looks around the restaurant, “This place is beautiful. The food smells delicious. I’m just grateful for you. For the helicopter ride, for these hours together.”
