Playing Pretend by Cassie-Ann L. Miller

Four

Liam

Three weeks later…

I smashthe empty coffee mug onto my massive executive desk. “Be sure to relay my message to your boss the minute he’s back at the office.”

I sling my stinging words like poisoned arrows into the phone receiver.

I try to soften my tone. “Please.”

Despite my efforts, the word comes out rough, sounding like it got processed through a rock grinder.

I’m pissed.

I’ve been feeling extra thorny since the night the resort deal got put on ice. But I have enough good sense to know that antagonizing Varner’s secretary won’t get me anywhere.

The woman on the phone assures me—again—that she will pass my message along to her boss.

Frustrated, I slam down the phone and the sound of the receiver crashing into its cradle resonates throughout my office. I see Eliza flinch and glance at me over her shoulder from her desk right outside my door.

The sight of her sets my blood alight with anger.

Those long, blonde waves I want to pull. Those heart-shaped lips heavy with glossy red lipstick. Like a juicy strawberry I want to bite.

I should just fire her. If she hadn’t gone meddling in the Varner deal none of this would have happened.

I had the old man seated at the conference table. The pen was already in his hand. All I needed was his signature on the dotted line.

And then my secretary went and opened her damn mouth…

I really, really, really should fire her.

But somehow, I just can’t.

I can’t bring myself to get rid of her and I don’t know why. I don’t know if I’m angrier with her for her intervention or with myself for my inability to take disciplinary action against her.

What the hell is happening to me?

Needing another caffeine jolt, I pick up my coffee mug.

Right. It’s empty.

Under normal circumstances, I’d buzz my secretary and tell her to fetch me another one. But I don’t think having that woman anywhere near me is a good idea right now.

The little person seated in the chair across from my desk flashes me a mouthful of miniature teeth. He swings his short legs back and forth as he stretches a bright green candy my way. “Want a lollipop?” I realize that I must be frowning when he adds, “A lollipop will make you happy.”

I sigh. “Sure, why not.” I grab the candy from his sticky paw.

I wouldn’t want to hurt the kid’s feelings by turning down his offer. Plus, a little bit of sugar might be good for me.

“Where’d you get that anyway?” I eyeball him suspiciously. I have to deliberately remind myself that the chances of a four-year-old plotting to poison me with candy are slim to none.

He shoves a massive yellow sucker into his own mouth. “The dentist gave it to me.” He momentarily rises onto knobby knees to curl his skinny legs beneath him.

“The dentist gave you candy?”

He beams. “Yup. She said I don’t have any cavities!”

“She gave you candy because you don’t have any cavities?” I hear myself chuckling at the logic. “Isn’t that counterproductive?”

“Count-a-puck-tive? Whuzz that mean?”

I happen to glance up right in time to catch Eliza with her eyes on me. The instant our eyes meet, she looks away. But the effect of her gaze lingers. My skin feels ignited. Hot and awake at the mere eye contact.

This is such bullshit.

I’m not sure what the fuck is going on with me. But I don’t like it. And the way my body reacts to my assistant pisses me off.

I turn my attention back to the child. I grab the thick dog-eared dictionary from my bottom drawer and shove it across the table toward him. “Here. Read this.” That should keep him occupied for a while.

I’m not the biggest fan of kids. I’ll admit it. I never quite know what to do with them. Plus, they’re loud and jittery and their little, splotchy faces are sticky all the time. But the critter in my office chair has grown on me over the past few years. He seems to think I’m all right, too.

I glance up to find Desiree, one of my top executives, speed-walking down the hallway, frantically checking inside each room as she goes.

She mumbles a few quick words to Eliza before sticking her head into my office. “Hey Liam, um, have you, uh—”

“Hi mommy!”

Relief floods her face when she sees the little boy curled up in the chair across from me.

“My god, Nathan. You almost gave me a heart attack.” She clutches her coffee mug to her chest. “I told you to stay in my office.” She turns apologetic eyes toward me. “I’m so sorry. I thought I could get away with bringing him back here for a few hours after his dentist appointment. But if he’s causing any trouble, I could go drop him off at the community center. His after-school program is still in progress and—”

“Calm down, lady. He’s not making any trouble.” I lift an appeasing hand out at the breathless single mother.

“You sure?” She smooths her fingers over the boy’s dark ruffled curls.

Desiree is one of the hardest workers on my team. But more than that, she’s probably the only person in this office I’d consider a friend.

She and I go way back. We first started hanging out in high school when she was dating my buddy, Wyatt. I’ve never been a relationship kind of guy, but even I could see that they were good together.

Things fell apart between them when Wyatt went off to the military despite Desiree’s desperate pleas for him to stay here in Sin Valley.

Eventually, she moved on, got married, had a kid. About a year ago, that relationship ended in divorce and Desiree’s been raising Nathan pretty much on her own ever since.

I’ve watched her struggle to balance her career with motherhood. And for the most part, she’s done a damn good job. But every now and then—on days like today—she needs me to cut her some slack. So, I do.

“Me and Nathan are chillin’,” I tell her, suppressing a chuckle. “He even shared his candy with me.” With a smirk, I tug the crinkly wrapper off the green lollipop and stick it into my mouth.

Instant sugar shock.

Jeez. No wonder kids run around like twitchy, little psychos all day if this is what they’re relying on for fuel. I fold the candy back in its wrapper and set it on the edge of my desk.

Desiree’s shoulders relax further. She gives him a tired smile. “A lollipop, huh? That’s how you wormed your way into cranky Liam’s good graces?”

Nathan grins and licks his sucker. “Uh-huh.”

I shrug. “I think the kid has a bright future ahead of him in the business world. He’s already mastered the art of ‘making friends and influencing people’.” I wink at him and Desiree laughs.

The boy looks at his mother and frowns. “Mommy, this book doesn’t have any pictures in it.” When he tries to lift my heavy dictionary off his lap, he nearly topples out of his chair.

Desiree yawns from behind her mug. “And Mommy’s coffee doesn’t have any alcohol in it. Life’s not always fair.”

Nathan blinks his big brown eyes in confusion.

She pats his head affectionately. “One day, you’ll understand.” Turning her attention to me, she lowers into the empty chair next to her son. “Hey, do you have a few minutes to go over some Paragons business? I noticed some minor discrepancies when I was looking at the budget a few days ago. I thought I might run them by you?”

In addition to owning Kline-Simmons Realty Developments, I’m the owner of Iowa’s Superbowl-winning professional football team. It’s been a very beneficial investment for me, especially in terms of raising my clout within the community.

Right about now, Paragons business is a welcome distraction from the Varner shitshow. I lean back in my chair. “Yeah. Shoot.”

Nathan quietly flips through the dictionary as Desiree and I spend the next half-hour or so going over the Paragons budgetary concerns. We move some numbers around. Thankfully, we’re able to reconcile the discrepancies without the intervention of the accounting team, because those guys are a drag.

By the time we’re done, mostly everyone has cleared out of the office for the evening. Only one or two of the administrative assistants mill about the hallway.

“Any updates for me on the Varner file?” I ask Desiree as she zips up the front of her son’s windbreaker.

“No one from his office is returning my calls.” She cringes and throws me a glimpse. “And my ‘sources’ tell me the old man was spotted having dinner with Rocco Romano in Miami a few days ago.”

There’s a child in the room so I bite down on my tongue to hold back the hailstorm of curse words that want to come blasting out. Instead, I force an exhale and say, “Let me know as soon as you hear any news.”

She nods. “Of course, boss.”

Desiree says good night and Nathan gives me a sticky high-five before the two of them leave me alone at my desk.

I lean back in my chair and stare at the back of Eliza’s head as she taps away at her computer. I don’t know if she can feel me staring at her but at one point, she glances over her shoulder—the tip of her pen caught between her teeth—and finds me with my eyes on her. I don’t look away. Neither does she. For a long moment, the gaze holds.

These moments have been more frequent between us ever since that night in the hotel suite. Every time I think about how she felt pressed up against that floor-to-ceiling window, I want to drag her into my office, shove her against the glass and reenact the whole thing. But with an alternate ending.

The ending I want involves me rolling her skirt up over her luscious hips to her nipped in waist, ripping her out of whatever underwear I find beneath and fucking her into senseless submission right there against the window, with all of Sin Valley as spectators to the performance.

Slowly, Eliza eases her stare away from mine and returns her attention to her computer, breaking my trance.

What am I thinking? I wouldn’t touch that girl with a ten-foot pole.

She’s half the reason I’m in this predicament to begin with. If she hadn’t opened her mouth and invited Varner to walk out of the hotel room that night, I’d have a signed contract in hand right now, the project would be under way.

Instead, all I’ve got now is Varner dodging my phone calls and leaving my emails unread.

The little voice in my head whispers that I’m full of shit.

I know damn well that Eliza isn’t to blame. I know that Varner never had any intention of signing that contract. I know the deal was dead before my assistant ever set foot in the penthouse suite that night.

If I really believed that losing a multi-million dollar contract were her fault, I would have rid her of her building security pass and sent her ass packing in a heartbeat.

I rub my fingertips over my eyes. I come face-to-face with the reality I’ve been trying to avoid; the reason I couldn’t get Varner’s signature on the dotted line is I’m just not good enough.

Not good enough of a businessman.

A caustic heat crawls up from my belly into my chest. Anger.

Fuck it.

I grab the lollipop from the corner of my desk and stick it into my mouth. With the saccharine syrup spreading across my tongue, I rise from my chair and approach the windows looking down on the Strip.

The sun is beginning its descent behind the hills in the distance. The Strip is already starting to come alive. I watch partygoers laughing and revelling as they duck in and out of the various dining and entertainment establishments.

Over the past few years, I’ve accomplished the impossible. Especially for someone my age. For someone from my background. I built this empire myself. I’m damned proud of that. Nobody believed I could do this. Nobody thought I could make this town relevant. And I did.

But I’m not done building yet.

Something Eliza said to Varner comes back into my mind. “Maybe Mr. Kline ought to take you out on the town. Show you what Sin Valley is reallylike.”

Do I even know what Sin Valley is really like?

Silently, I ask myself if I’ve ever really experienced this town. The way the strangers prowling the streets below are. I can’t remember ever feeling the enthusiasm I see in their movements. Feeling the buzz. The sense of excitement.

In the years since I started developing the real estate on the Strip, I’ve mostly viewed the project from a business perspective. I’ve never really put myself in the shoes of the people who visit the place for fun.

My eyes move from my view of the Strip over to Eliza, to the sea of blonde waves tumbling down her back. I twirl the lollipop stick between my fingers.

Maybe I could…

Maybe we could…explore the Strip together. Maybe I want to see Sin Valley through her eyes, from a fresh perspective. It would be good for the business. Market research, if you will. A completely professional endeavor—

No.

No, I can’t.

The last thing I need is to spend any time with that woman outside of the office. Look what happened the one time we tried it.

But the idea is in my head now. And I don’t know how to get rid of it.