Closing my eyes briefly, I locate the rational part of my brain and ignore the pounding of my heart.
You don't know her, Miller. She's a stranger. Not some magical unicorn woman who belongs on a pedestal. There are plenty of other women out there that you can be with. Stop fixating on this one.
Although, I'm also well aware that it's easier said than done, and if I know anything about myself, it's that once I set my mind to something, it's impossible to break free. It's what makes me good at what I do. I'm thorough. And the second something is in my sights, I stop at nothing to make it happen.
Cora is a person, not a quest,I remind my irrational nature.
Did I buy a unit in the very building she's tasked to be lead decorator on just so I could get some time with her? Yes, yes I did. Do I recognize hownotnormal that is? Also, yes. Is that going to stop me? No.
"Something's been up with her lately." Alec breaks through my thoughts.
I turn toward him and study him with everything I have to try to figure it out quicker than he'll open his mouth and confess.
"What? What do you mean? Is she okay?" The desperation in my tone isn't lost on me. I must sound like a fucking obsessive psycho.
"I mean, I think." Alec drives us through an intersection and puts on his turn signal, focusing on the task of getting me to my hotel. "She mentioned her boss was being a dick, but when I pushed her about it, she told me not to be worried."
"And are you? Worried, that is."
My hand tightens into a fist, and I do everything I can to simmer the rage building within me. I hate how short-fused I am. I hate how little I can control when my anger sets in.
"A little bit, yeah." Alec glances over at me. "I think there's something else going on, too."
"Like what?" I press.
He shrugs. "I don't know. She just seems...off. Does that make sense?"
I swipe away at the photos on his screen and thumb until I find his phone, punching in the numbers to fix this problem.
It rings twice before a feminine voice answers. "Hello. Wellerton's office. How may I direct your call?"
"I'd like to speak to Charles Wellerton."
I ignore Alec's furrowed glance in my direction.
"I'm sorry, sir. Mr. Wellerton isn't taking calls at the moment. Can I take a message for him?"
"No. But you can get your ass up and go get him on the line. It's Miller Rossi."
"Oh," she says abruptly. "I'm so sorry, yes, let me connect you now, sir."
The hold music begins to play briefly before the line crackles.
"Miller, buddy. What can I do for you? Is this about your unit? Are you dissatisfied with the location? I can relocate you if you'd prefer a different view," Charles says.
"That building," I begin. "I want it."
Rustling comes through the line like he's repositioning in his seat. "What do you mean, the building? What are you talking about?"
"The entire building. The Wellerton. I want it. So you're going to sell it to me."
"I don't understand. What could you possibly want with The Wellerton?"
"That doesn't concern you."
"I—I'm sorry, Miller. That isn't possible. I can't just sell you the building. There are investors. There are hoops that you'd need to jump through. It's a lofty investment. I can't let that go. This is business, you must understand that."
Not for a second do I get discouraged at a single word he's saying, because from the moment the idea popped into my head, I knew I had the upper hand. I never would have considered it if I didn't. One way or another, that building is going to be mine—I'll either buy it from him or kill every person who stands between me and the deed to it. I don’t favor one option over the other.
