Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 84676 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 423(@200wpm)___ 339(@250wpm)___ 282(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84676 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 423(@200wpm)___ 339(@250wpm)___ 282(@300wpm)
I have no interest in property development, but I need Leo to see that I’m great at my job, so I always scour the magazine to make sure I’m up-to-date with industry news. “It only just came this morning, so I haven’t had a chance to go through it all.” Why they send a hard copy of this thing, I have no idea. I also get a daily email.
Leo continues to stare at the magazine before stalking over to my desk, bringing with him the scent of freshly mown grass and crackling fires—totally incongruous with our location in the center of Manhattan. I’m sure whatever he needs is online. Must he need to come so close? “Did you do an online search?” I ask, hoping the idea will send him back into his office.
He stands next to my desk and flips through the pages of the magazine. “I’m not sure what I’m looking for,” he replies like it makes sense. “There’s just something in my gut that says… something over there has changed.”
“Oh,” I say, looking at the page he just turned to. “The awards.” A two-page spread on the awards ceremony is at the center of the magazine. Leo’s name is under Developer of the Decade and the Hammonds logo is front and center.
“Surely a different agency sponsors the awards every time?” I ask.
“Absolutely. But it’s never Hammonds because they’re too cheap.”
“Does it matter?” I ask.
He flips the page and takes a step back. I follow his eyeline, but it’s just more sponsored material about Hammonds. About how the CEO is retiring.
“Can you read it?” he asks, thrusting his hands into his pockets. He starts to pace in front of my desk.
I pick up the magazine, eyeing Leo, wondering whether he’s about to have some kind of breakdown. I’ve never seen him so ruffled. He’s usually put together, charming, unflappable.
“‘Hammonds CEO to step down in a changing of the guard,’” I say, reading the headline. I pause, and Leo glances up from his pacing. I continue: “‘Frank Hammond is retiring from the firm he founded in 1984. Grant Boden, his son-in-law, will relocate to New York from California, where he runs the West Coast office, to take over. Husband of Mr. Hammond’s eldest daughter, Caroline Hammond, Grant has worked at Hammonds since—’”
I don’t get to finish my sentence before Leo turns back to his office and closes the door behind him.
Is Grant Boden some kind of rival? Archenemy? Have I stumbled on to some kind of real estate war?
I skim over the rest of the article, but it doesn’t say much. It’s basically a puff piece about how Hammonds is a vital part of the industry and has done loads of high-ticket deals. Who cares?
Apparently my asshole, overly attractive boss does. Which means I do. I need to solve whatever problem this creates for Leo. But first I need to find out what the problem actually is.
THREE
Leo
As I message Bennett to tell him I’m coming over, I don’t mention that I’ve asked Worth to come too. In the lobby of Bennett and Efa’s building, I see Byron and Fisher. Apparently word has gotten around that I’m rattled.
“Hey,” I say, joining them by the elevators. I sign in at the huge reception desk, which apparently now involves an iris scan. Bennett’s still fucking paranoid about security. Byron holds the elevator doors open and Fisher and I step through.
“It’s not such a big deal,” I say. “Worth didn’t need to call you.” Granted, it’s unusual for one of us to reach out and request counsel. So when I sent that message to Bennett, I knew it would be a big deal. And it is a big deal. I need to find a way through this fucking awards ceremony, or I need someone to tell me not going is the right thing to do.
Bennett opens the door, and after exchanging hellos and hugs, we go through to the bar, which I swear has the same sectional from the hotel suite he stayed at when the paranoid fucker thought Efa was his stalker.
Until we found out it wasn’t Efa, but my girlfriend, Nadia. She was using me to get close to Bennett. I shake my head, trying to get rid of the image I have of Nadia in my head.
Wherever the sofa’s from, it’s comfortable and that’s all that matters.
Bennett hands out beers and whiskey and tequila. I take a neat whiskey because it’s the first thing offered to me. I down it, slide the empty glass onto the table in front of me, and take the beer Worth offers next.
When we’re all seated, the low chatter falls into a lull.
“Developer of the Decade is a big deal,” I say. I scrape my hands through my hair and tip my head back, staring at the ceiling. “I’m young to be getting that kind of award, and I want to turn up and accept it, you know?”