We hardly celebrate together like this, only when it’s a special occasion, and this is certainly a special occasion. We’ve been trying to get this project for months, and my team has worked their asses off to make it happen. They deserve it.
“So, what’s going on?” Charlie asks with open arms as he walks toward me, the rest of the guys grinning behind him.
“Yeah, what’s the occasion? Pete won’t tell us a thing,” Ian adds.
I smirk as they reach me. I look at them, one by one, trying to drag out the anticipation.
“We got Vista Plaza,” I say simply.
Their eyes widen at the same time, then they explode in excitement and celebration. Claps on the backs, hugs, whooping. It isn’t missed by those walking by, and I can’t help but revel in their joy and be proud of them for what they’ve done. I’ve got a good group here, all men who are young and full of life. They’re going places, and this project is really going to reflect that.
“Let’s go celebrate, guys,” Peter says with an eye roll, patting Jim on the shoulder and moving toward the front doors.
The security guard chuckles at us as we go, and I tip my head at him as we walk past.
“I’ve got the Uber,” Ian calls out, raising his arm in the air and waving it as he taps away on his phone with the other hand. It arrives within ten minutes, and we’re on our way to one of my bars across town. The sun is high in the sky, and I plan on drinking until the sky is dark, the sun replaced by the moon.
It’s dinner time, but the only thing on the menu is whiskey. I’ve lost track of how much we’ve drank, but it’s been a lot. Everyone has lost their jackets and ties. Some even have their button-downs off, draped over the back of their chairs. Their undershirts are untucked, hair messed up. We’re laughing and enjoying the day, telling everyone who walks by what we’re here celebrating. It’s fun to watch, to be a part of. And though I don’t feel the need to join in with the shouting and sharing, I am glad to be here. Not just here in the bar with these men who helped me get where I am, but here at all. With my company, my life.
When I was a young boy, I never thought this would be possible. I thought poverty was all I would ever know. I was constantly told I would amount to nothing because I came from nothing. Though my parents were loving, they were weak-minded and unmotivated. They accepted what they were given in life, even though they weren’t happy with it. That isn’t what I wanted to do withmylife. So, I chose to do something else.
Now I’m here, celebrating with my team in a bar I own, one they oversaw the making of. I’m going to be a legacy in this city. My buildings will stand long after I do, and something about that brings me happiness beyond belief. And the fact I could give my parents what they couldn’t give me is a wonderful gift. They are well taken care of, living in a retirement home in Florida, forever grateful for what I’ve done for them. It’s satisfying in ways I can’t describe. My life is good. Yet every time a girl with dark hair walks in or walks by, I wish it washer.
I can’t stop thinking about her.
My mind is torn, it has been for days now. One part is focused on the task at hand, while the other part lingers on her. Always her.
Why is she driving me insane? Why can’t I stop thinking about her?
It’s been a week since I sent the contract to her, and I haven’t gotten a response other than an email letting me know she received it and would look it over.
I wrote that up myself, had Jack look it over, then sent it. No one else needs to know about this. The position isn’t even a real position, it’s something I made up for her. Hell, I don’t even know what I plan to have her do once she starts. Dry cleaning? That’s beneath her. Grocery shopping? She isn’t a maid. I have Michelle, who is already trained in all I need in the office, but perhaps I could give her a promotion with a raise, and mention slight job changes? That could work. I’ll make it work.
I tap the table beside my phone, itching to pick it up and call Seraphine. Make sure she’s okay. Hear her voice. I told her to take time and deal with her tragedies, and I do want that. But now that it’s been so long since I spoke with her, saw her, I don’t like it. I don’t like it one goddamn bit.
“Come on, boss man! Let’s do another shot,” Charlie says, gesturing to the bartender. She comes over right away, and he orders a round of shots. There’s one shoved into my hand a moment later, and then I’m tipping my head back, the alcohol sliding down my throat with ease. The moment the glass is on the countertop, I’m reaching for my phone and getting to my feet, mind made up.
“I’ll be right back,” I say.
“No work tonight!” Ian calls, throwing his hands up.
He’s too outgoing for my liking, but it makes him good at his job. He’s a people person. Has that boyish smile that everyone trusts. It’s good for making deals.
“Not work,” I say as I walk by him, heading for the front door.
The phone is already calling her before I’m outside. Once I step onto the sidewalk, I’m taken aback by the bright sun. It makes me chuckle. I’d thought it would at least be nightfall by now, but I guess that’s what happens when you’re in a dark cavern of a bar, drinking the only thing on your mind.
Well, sort of the only thing.
“Mr. Caldwell,” she answers softly.
Hearing her voice has the tension leaving my shoulders. Nowhere near how her hands did, when working their magic on my body, but it’s second best.
“Seraphine, how are you?”
“Is something wrong?”
“No, of course not. I wanted to check on you.”
