by Nash, Willa
What was I thinking? It was a good thing I had fantastic friends. I suspected that Everly and Hux had arranged to lock up the gym. The instructors and employees had keys, so they must have opened up for the evening classes.
Hopefully I hadn’t pissed off any members. I really couldn’t afford to lose a monthly fee right now.
I walked to the front door and opened my business, and after an hour where no one came in and ridiculed me for my behavior, I breathed.
“Good morning.” My first encounter was with my yoga instructor. She swept in with a bright smile and warm hug. When she didn’t mention a thing about my display with Pierce or the fact that I’d skipped out on work, I decided she was my favorite person in Calamity.
While she went to set up for her class, I ducked into the small office I’d carved out for myself at the back of the building. Most days, I sat at the front counter, working on my laptop and checking in members. But at the moment, what I needed most was time to run my numbers. So while the studio was occupied, I compiled a list of every asset to my name and estimated their individual values.
The grand total was over one million dollars. If I sold everything at market value, I could easily repay Pierce. But I couldn’t exactly sell three houses that were currently being rented. I wouldn’t boot those people from their homes.
I doubted there was anyone willing to buy my new gym, considering the financials were in their infancy. There was a vacant studio apartment upstairs that Everly had lived in for a while but it couldn’t be sold separate from the gym.
Then there was the farmhouse. The duplex. My car. My own home. Lastly, a checking account with a balance of $1,602.87.
“I’m screwed.” I dropped my pencil and let my head fall into my hands.
Would Mom and Dad let me move in with them if I sold my house? Maybe Larke would let me crash on her sofa.
How was I supposed to do this? It wasn’t fair. I should have had years to figure it out. Gabriel had promised me years.
But then he’d died.
I picked up my phone and went to recent calls, looking at the last number I’d dialed.
My hand was shaking as I hit the number and pressed it to my ear.
If I could just explain. If he would just listen to me for five minutes.
“Pierce Sullivan,” he answered and damn it, that deep, rugged voice shot straight to my center.
Focus, Kerrigan. “Hi, Pierce. It’s Kerrigan Hale.”
Silence.
I blinked. “Are you there?”
“Ms. Hale. This is my private number.”
I sat up straight. “Seriously?”
“I am serious.”
“You kissed me.”
“And I apologize. It was a mistake.”
A mistake. Yes, it had definitely been a mistake. But did he have to say that word with such disgust? Was the entire world out to humiliate me today? Or just this man? “Yes,” I said. “Yes, it was.”
“Is there a reason for your call?”
“I had a verbal agreement with your grandfather in regard to my loan. I approached him the week he . . . the week of the crash. He gave me a verbal extension.”
“Why is there no paperwork showing this alleged agreement?”
“Because he knew I would pay him back.” But then he died.
Pierce scoffed. “My grandfather was a shrewd businessman. He wouldn’t extend a loan without the necessary documentation or discussing it with an attorney.”
“Are you saying that he was trying to swindle me?”
“It’s possible.”
No. “Never. He wasn’t like that.”
“Then clearly you didn’t know him the way I knew him. The man was a shark, and you, Ms. Hale, are easy prey.”
I flinched. There was such hatred in his voice. It was so raw and honest that doubts flooded my mind. Would Gabriel really screw me over? Had he made me a false promise?
No. I couldn’t believe it. I wouldn’t believe it.
“He gave me time. I need time.”
“The terms are what they are. You have thirty days.”
“Please, Pierce. It’s not enough time.”
“You may call me Mr. Sullivan.”
The phone nearly fell from my hand. He’d said that last night too. I’d nearly forgotten because of the kiss but he’d told me to call him Mr. Sullivan.
The arrogant, selfish, brazen bastard.
“I cannot pay you back in thirty days.” Admitting it, though true, felt like an epic failure. Especially admitting it to him.
“Then you’ll be hearing from my attorney. Any and all future communication must go through my assistant. Please don’t make me block your calls, Ms. Hale.”
And with that, he hung up the phone.
“What a—” I shoved to my feet, fighting back a string of screamed expletives that would no doubt echo to the studio and harsh the yoga vibe. I paced in front of my desk, wringing my hands.
For years, Gabriel had bragged about his smart grandson. The one who’d take over for him one day. The one who’d build an empire.
Considering that I was building my own empire—albeit on a much, much smaller Calamity, Montana, scale—I’d admired that about Pierce. I’d felt a kinship with him even though we’d never met. And whenever Gabriel had spoken of him, it had been with nothing but love and adoration.
But this was not the Pierce I’d pictured in my mind.
No, this was Mr. Sullivan. And maybe the man could kiss a woman dizzy, but that didn’t change the facts.
He was enemy number one.
Chapter Three
Pierce
“Steve, tell me you’re joking.”
My grandfather’s lawyer shook his head. “I’m afraid not.”
“Why didn’t you tell me this when we went through his will and the details about Barlowe Capital?”
“It was part of his expressed wishes that I wait six weeks after his death.”
I dragged in a calming breath. “And this is why when we had the initial reading, you said that he did not want a funeral service.”
Steve nodded. “Correct.”
My mom had been irritated by Grandpa’s last requests, to put it mildly. She’d wanted to put her father to rest, but he’d specifically said no funeral service. Instead, he’d asked to be cremated and his ashes kept in an urn that he’d bought himself. The urn was currently at Mom and Dad’s house outside the city.
I guess I’d be paying a visit to my parents this week.
“Why couldn’t he do anything normally?” I pinched the bridge of my nose. Even dead, the man was still pulling strings.
“Gabriel always had his reasons.”
His fucking reasons.
Those reasons were sending me to Montana—again—to scatter his ashes at the cabin. A cabin that I’d decided to sell. It would be on the market already if not for the club’s stipulation that a property not change ownership more than once per six months. They didn’t want anyone to flip a property, not that those places were exactly fixer-uppers.
Since the cabin had just become legally mine, I was stuck with it for a while.
It had been nearly a month since my visit to Montana. Twenty-eight days to be exact.
I knew because that was how many voicemail messages and corresponding emails I’d received from the irritatingly beautiful Kerrigan Hale.
“My parents are not going to be happy about this,” I told Steve.
“I’ve already discussed it with them. You’re only taking part of the ashes. Gabriel asked that the other half be taken to his villa in Italy. While you go to Montana—”
“Mom and Dad are heading to Europe.”
Steve nodded. “Exactly.”
Christ. Why couldn’t I have gotten the Italian vacation? The last place I wanted to go was Montana.
Of course, I could simply refuse this trip. It wasn’t like Grandpa would know.
But would I? No. The bastard had me trapped. Even though I was furious with h
im, even after all he’d done to me, he must have known that I wouldn’t ignore his final requests.
Sentimental as it was, once upon a time, I’d loved the man.
“Is this it? Or can I expect another surprise visit with another stipulation?”
Steve closed his leather padfolio. “See you soon, Pierce.”
Shit. So there was more. “You could save yourself a trip. Tell me now.”
“That wasn’t what Gabriel wanted.”
And Gabriel always got what he wanted, didn’t he? No matter how much that meant fucking up my life.
“Thanks, Steve.” I stood from my desk and shook his hand before escorting him to the door.
Nellie emerged from her office next door, smiling at Steve as he walked to the elevators. When he disappeared around the corner, she followed me into my office. “What was that about?”
I sighed and walked to the floor-to-ceiling windows of my corner office, taking in downtown Denver. “I am headed back to Montana.”
“You are? When?”
“Soon.” I gave her the quick recap of my meeting with Steve. “What’s my schedule look like this month?”
“Actually, this week isn’t bad. But the rest of the month is already packed.”
Hell. That meant if I was going to fit in this trip, I’d be going immediately. Before Kerrigan’s thirty-day notice expired.
She’d made no indication that she would be paying and though she still had two days left, I doubted it would make a difference.
“Let’s just . . . get this over with,” I said, turning to face Nellie. “Block out the rest of my week if you can. Shove whatever can’t wait to Friday.”
“All right. Would you like me to call your pilot and get the flight arranged?”
“No, I’ll drive.” I hadn’t been on my airplane since my grandfather’s had crashed, killing him and his passengers. Though it would be faster, I couldn’t bring myself to fly. I’d stick to driving for now.
“All right. Jasmine called. Again.”
She’d tried me too. Twice. “I’ll call her later.”
Nellie arched her eyebrows. “Will you?”
No.
“You’re running out of time.”
I waved it off. “I have time.”
“Pierce—”
“I need to return a few emails, then I’ll go pack.” The benefit of living in the same building where I worked was a short commute. “Would you mind making me a reservation at the Calamity motel?”
“Calamity? I thought you were going to the cabin.”
“Not yet,” I grumbled. There was a stop to make first. “Would you also call Ms. Hale and request a meeting, first thing tomorrow morning?”
Nellie opened her mouth but closed it before she spoke.
“What?”
“Nothing.” And before I could convince her to tell me otherwise, she spun on her heels, her sleek white-blond ponytail practically whipping through the air as she scurried out of my office.
I turned to the windows again, taking in the city. The sun’s rays bounced and glinted off the neighboring buildings in LoDo. Mine was one of the newest in this area of downtown. I’d wanted the best and though it wasn’t in the hub of the business district like my grandfather’s building had been, I preferred being close to the city’s well-known restaurants, art galleries and boutique shops.
My company used seven of the twenty floors of the building. The lower levels were residential apartments, all top-of-the-line and many rented by my employees, including Nellie.
The building had an on-site gym and pool. There was a parking garage for residents and employees. Security was tight and the guards stationed at the entrance were paid well to ensure that no one unwelcome was allowed entry.
It was prime real estate, especially with the Front Range in the distance. The rugged mountains cut a jagged line across the horizon. Above them, the blue sky was clear and cloudless.
Why hadn’t Grandpa wanted his ashes scattered here? A quick trip to the Front Range and I’d be done. Instead, I would make the long journey to Montana and, per Grandpa’s wishes, invite her.
I groaned and returned to my desk. Like she knew she was on my mind, her name was at the top of my unread emails. Today’s note read exactly like its predecessors.
* * *
Mr. Sullivan,
Per my previous contact attempts, please consider a brief meeting to discuss the terms of our contract.
Sincerely,
Kerrigan Hale
* * *
Did she send the same email to annoy me? Because it was working. Every day, like clockwork, I’d receive an email requesting a conversation. The note would put a slight damper on my morning, probably because I ignored it and ignoring clients—even those I’d inherited from my grandfather—wasn’t my style. Still, I ignored her, deleted the email and went about my day.
Then, the moment I had a break in my afternoon schedule, I’d get a phone call. It was like Kerrigan had direct access to my calendar and knew when I had ten minutes free.
I hadn’t answered a single one of her calls. I’d let them ring through to voicemail. But the moment her message was saved, I’d replay it. The messages, like the emails, were always the same.
* * *
Hello, this is Kerrigan Hale. Please call me back at this number at your earliest convenience. I’m looking forward to hearing from you soon, Mr. Sullivan.
* * *
The way she tried to suppress her annoyance at my last name always made me chuckle.
Over the past twenty-eight days, hearing her voice had become a part of my routine, yet I hadn’t once entertained the idea of returning her calls.
I didn’t trust myself with Kerrigan. That was the problem.
The last time I’d seen her, I’d kissed her. And what a fucking kiss it had been. Probably the best of my life. As much as I wanted to blame it on the bourbon, the real problem was chemistry. My attraction to Kerrigan ran to the marrow, proving what I’d suspected the day we’d met.
Kerrigan Hale was a dangerous woman.
I’d suffered enough at the hands of another dangerous woman.
So I kept my distance. I ignored the calls and emails because nothing had changed.
If Kerrigan didn’t pay her loan, the assets totaling the amount due would become the newest additions to Grays Peak Investments. I’d assign them to one of the junior members of my team, push for a quick sale and do my best to recoup whatever loss I incurred.
In the past month, I’d worked diligently to bring Barlowe Capital under the Grays Peak umbrella. It had been no small feat, but we were managing. Luckily, most of the Barlowe team had been willing to come to work for me.
Besides the cabin, Grandpa’s properties and his cash accounts had gone to my mother.
Mom, being his only child, had never struggled for money. My grandmother had been wealthy in her own right. She and Grandpa hadn’t been married long, and when she’d passed, Mom had inherited her estate. Dad had never hurt for money either, which had lessened the blow that Grandpa had bequeathed me Barlowe Capital.
Mom and Dad weren’t equipped to run it anyway.
I came from a long line of successful businessmen and women who’d ensured my billionaire status would never be in jeopardy. But living off someone else’s fortune had never been my style, and I’d started Grays Peak to build my own name.
Real estate holdings had provided a solid foundation for my company. Grandpa had specialized in real estate and I’d learned many things from him during my time working at Barlowe Capital after college.
When I’d branched out on my own, I’d started smart, with low-risk ventures. Then as my net income had doubled year over year, I’d diversified. My latest success stories were all in the technology sector. I’d also expanded into sports and entertainment.
We were becoming a powerhouse throughout the country, and there wasn’t a state where I didn’t have at least one interest.
Except Montana.
Ironically, the one area I hadn’t established any sort of interest in was where my grandfather had filled the gap. He’d done it by giving a beautiful woman too much money.
He hadn’t done her any favors. He’d set her up for failure by handing over that money. Maybe that had been his goal all along.
If Kerrigan took a step back and evaluated her business honestly, she’d see that she was overextended. She was smart and ambitious, but she’d tried to grow too fast, and her liquidity had paid the price. By selling some properties, lightening her debt load, she’d position herself for longer-term success.
I was doing her a favor by calling in my note.
Though I doubted she’d say thank you.
Nellie’s line rang through to my phone.
“Yes?” I answered.
“Kerrigan, uh . . . Ms. Hale is on the line for you.”
She’d called Nellie? This was new.
Granted, I’d told her to contact Nellie for any questions. Had she? No. She’d kept calling my personal number, and fool that I was, I hadn’t blocked her. It was that damn kiss I couldn’t get out of my head.
“What does she want?” I asked.
“You asked for a meeting tomorrow morning.”
“Yes. For you to schedule it.”
“Whoops.”
“Nellie,” I warned.
“What?” she asked, feigning innocence.
Christ. If Nellie was calling Kerrigan by her first name, then I suspected I wasn’t the only one who got regular phone calls. Except Nellie must be taking Kerrigan’s calls. “Tell her I’m busy.”
“Then you can forget seeing her in the morning. She won’t meet with you until you speak with her.”
“Fine,” I clipped, hitting the flashing red button for the other line. “Ms. Hale.”
“Hello, Mr. Sullivan.” That sugar-sweet voice was nothing like I’d been hearing in her voicemails. It was arrogant and taunting. The scales were no longer balanced in my favor.
I needed her time, something she’d been asking of me for nearly a month. And to get what I wanted, it was going to cost me.
