The Other Side of Greed by Lily Zante
Chapter Forty-One
KYRA
We revert back to normal at work, but we no longer sneak around in the storeroom like before. There is a more steadied attraction between us. It is evenly keeled. I trust Brad, and even though he still remains a mostly closed book to me, he has hinted that he will tell me in his own time. I will wait.
On the next food night, we work as usual, and then clear up at the end. As we’re finishing up in the storeroom, Brad is pensive again and I find myself worrying about him.
He catches me staring. “You always seem on a downer after these nights,” I say. He doesn’t say anything. I reach forward and put my hands on his chest. “You’re not supposed to feel sorry for anyone. You’re supposed to feel good. Remember, the work we do here helps people like these to get back onto their feet.”
“You’re doing all the good things.”
“It’s what I love, and that’s why I am so eager to expand. Redhill is thriving and we need more people, which is why I need more premises.”
“How was the committee meeting the other day?”
“We had the usual complaints from the city officials.”
“What complaints?”
I tell him. “But now I’m starting to think that your advice is the right advice,” I say. “Maybe we should move elsewhere, to bigger premises, instead of trying to make this higgledy-piggledy plot of land work.”
His face twists. “Don’t listen to me.”
“Why not? You have a good business head on your shoulders and being around you has made me see things from another perspective.”
“You should go with your gut, Kyra. You told me you wanted to stay here. You said this area was starting to turn around and you got this factory at a good price.”
“This factory which now needs a roof to be fixed as well as a long list of items, and that’s just in this building. How will I expand? Buy one of the other buildings?”
“Wasn’t that your plan?” he asks, confusing me further. “To stay here and fix everything.”
“But you told me to think about—”
“You shouldn’t listen to me.”
I squint in confusion. “But I do. I’ve been thinking about what you said and it makes sense.”
He frames my face with his hands then brings his head lower so that we are touching foreheads. “Don’t let me sway you. Do what you feel is the right thing.” Then he kisses me, so-so-slowly that it feels as if my feet have lifted from the floor. “I want to take you out.” His hands slide around my waist, then lower to my bottom which he squeezes gently. Past reminders coil and twist in my gut. If I’m not careful, he’ll have his fingers inside me again. I press against him.
“Take me out, where?”
“Somewhere nice. It’s about time we went on a proper date,” he replies. His hands keep sliding around my hips then lower, then back up again as if he’s caught in a battle of the wills between the Sweet Saint and the Dirty Devil.
“We skipped all the dating niceties,” I whisper, tugging at his earlobe gently. Breathing in his cologne sends the blood pumping through me. “Come back to my place …” I plead.
“Tempting,” he murmurs, his voice low, his lips teasing my neck. I grind my hips into him, wanting more, more, more. This teasing and flirting has gone on for too long.
We kiss again, and I groan against his mouth as the force of his hardness presses into me reminding me of what he denied me the last time.
He pulls away quickly, then takes a step away, as if he needs to get away from me because he can’t trust himself.
“Keep the weekend free for me.”
“What?”
“The weekend, keep it free.”
* * *
BRANDON
“You want to do what?” Neville grinds out.
“I want no part of Greenways. We’re walking away.”
“Are you sick, Brandon? What are you talking about?”
“I’m not sick. I just don’t want it. The people there are already doing great work. They should be allowed to continue it without the likes of me moving in for pure greed.”
Neville roars, and when I stand silently, eyeing him like a mental asylum’s new intake, he suddenly stops. “You’ve gone all soft. Do you have any idea how much money we’re going to make on this deal?”
“I don’t want the money.”
“You don’t want … you don’twant the money? Why would you say something like that?”
“I’m being deadly serious. I don’t want the land. I’m not going after it.”
“And the government project? The eminent domain proposition? What the hell do you want me to do with Charlie Stagg?”
“Nothing.”
“But think of the money—”
“Your job is to do what I say. You leave the thinking to me.” Neville’s horrified expression at hearing my instruction borders on comical. “It’s only money, Neville. There’ll be another deal, another opportunity.”
“I don’t know what’s gotten over you, Brandon. You’re … different. Working for that woman has turned you into a loser.”
“Shut the fuck up.”
To my amusement, he does. It’s almost instant. He coughs lightly before going through the folder on the desk. “McGovern Holdings, they never received the signed paperwork from you.”
McGovern Holdings. I rack my brains to remember. “I don’t remember signing them.” And then I recall. “Fuck.” Those were the contracts I’d asked Emma to pick up from the office and deliver to my house on the night of Cardoza’s fight. I hadn’t signed them because, after the accident, it had been the last thing on my mind.
Neville observes me quietly. “It’s messing you up, this little game you’re playing. This undercover billionaire bullshit.”
My head snaps up at his curse. The guy is angry because my decision to walk away from Greenways means that he also loses out on a lucrative cut. Government officials aren’t easy to find and corrupt. It takes money.
“Emma was supposed to pick that paperwork up from the office and leave it at my house. Obviously, that never happened and that’s the reason why I never signed anything. Do you have a copy I can sign now?”
“It’s not that simple,” Neville cautions. “They have other interested parties.”
Typical. “They’re having a hissy fit because I didn’t sign the contract on time?”
“You haven’t called them or said a word. It’s been complete silence from you. What do you want them to think?”
“They need to know the truth. My PA was involved in a serious car accident. Not that they will care,” I mutter under my breath. I want the deal. I need to fix this. I swipe a hand over my brow. “I’ll fly out there. I’ll meet them in person.” That’s what it will take. An in-person meeting. The friendly touch. Face to face.
“Do you want me to come along?” Neville offers. A rare request, because he tends to want to do the bare minimum. I cock my head at him, assessing the motivation behind this. He’s afraid I’ll mess up. He already thinks I’m losing it. He can’t afford for me to lose my head over too many deals, otherwise this lazy slug of a man will lose out on his fat checks.
I shake my head. “I can handle this alone.”
The intercom buzzes. “Jessica is on line one,” my new PA announces. I hiss out an aggravated breath. Emma would have known to hold all my calls especially when I’m in a meeting. “Stall her.”
“I’ve tried. This is the third time she’s called this morning.”
I know how forceful Jessica can be, and I’m thankful, in a way, for her interruption. At least it will help me to get rid of Neville. “I’ll meet with the people from McGovern next week,” I tell Neville. “You’ll have to excuse me.”
“But what about Greenways?”
“I told you about Greenways. I don’t want it.”
“You need to think very carefully, Brandon—”
“I have a call to take. Please excuse me.”
I wait for him to heave his big body out of the chair and slowly make his way to the door. When he leaves, I slump back in relief and take the call from Jessica. This is timely. Killing two birds with one stone. She’s another problem I no longer want to deal with.
“I barely see you these days, Brandon.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose. “I’ve been busy.”
“You’ve always made time for me.”
“You know how it is.”
“Is that little do-gooder keeping you busy?”
The malice in her tone makes me wonder if she suspects something. I effect a dismissive laugh. “I have a new PA, and it’s been challenging, to say the least, getting things done around here.”
She pauses, making me wonder what I have given away. “That’s an evasive answer if ever I heard one.”
“I’m busy, Jessica. Did you call for a reason?” I don’t even care if that is too blunt. I have a lot of things to resolve and Jessica sucking up my time is the last thing I need.
“You don’t have time for me anymore,” she laments, like the spoiled brat that she is. To think that I once considered her as wife material when I used to acquire things because I needed to confirm the man I now was. Because I was so desperate to push the past away.
The problem with my experiment with Kyra and Redhill is that it has put the past firmly in my present. I see it every Wednesday night because Yvette insists on bringing her kids to the food nights.
“I’m hosting a special arts night at the gallery next week. I want you there.”
Next week I have plans to fly to Boston to meet with McGovern Holdings. “I’ll see. I’m busy and I’ll probably be out of state for a few days.”
She scoffs. “You can’t even give me one night?”
“We didn’t have any nights, Jessica.”
“We hadn’t yet, no.”
“And we won’t,” I state, a chill icing my words.
“You have other interests,” she remarks. Cool and offhanded.
“I have many business interests to take care of.”
“Then come to the gallery for one last time. At least give me that,” she begs. The airwaves fall silent as I consider this final request. “It’s going to be pretty amazing. I’ve worked really hard to put it together.”
She leaves me no choice. It’s the least I can do. “When?” She gives me the date and time, and I hastily scribble it down in my diary. I tell her I’ll do my best to be there.
Then I stare at the dates on my calendar. Not only do I need to spend a day or two at most in Boston, I also owe Kyra. I want to make it up to her. She deserves to see a part of the real me while I try to figure out a way to get myself out of this mess.