The Other Side of Greed by Lily Zante

Chapter Six

BRANDON

“What happened?” Emma asks as I enter my office.

“With what?” The weekend has flown by and I have no idea what she is referring to.

“I want to know how your ‘undercover’ visit to Redhill went.” She air quotes ‘undercover’.

“She didn’t hire me.” I walk into my office wishing to be left alone. But, of course Emma isn’t one to let this slide without wanting further elaboration.

“She didn’t hire you?” she strides into the office. I take off my jacket and fold up the cuffs to my sleeves. To my chagrin, she’s sitting in the chair opposite mine, waiting for the cliffhanger.

“Don’t you have work to do?” I ask her.

I loosen my tie before sitting down. I feel constricted. The collar feels tight around my neck, and most of all I’m just really pissed off that I seemed to fail at the first hurdle. “She said she didn’t need anyone.”

“Even though you told her you would work for free?” She sounds surprised. “She doesn’t trust you.”

I rock back on my chair. This is what I sensed. Kyra Lewis is paranoid and doesn’t trust a soul. She’s going to be harder to get through than I first anticipated, but I will rise to the challenge. There’s nothing I like more. “She will.” I need to find another avenue for reaching through to her. It won’t be through her, but maybe the older woman can help. She seemed friendlier.

“She will.” I’m confident of that.

Emma stands up. “I told you she was smart.”

“And I told you I’ll find a way in.” That’s what Trojan horses do. I’ll need to find another way to break into Redhill.

* * *

“These are divine,” Jessica says. The selection of amuse-bouches—courtesy of the head chef and prepared solely for us—looks mouth-watering.

“Not bad,” I say, staring at a cup holding a crab filled pea pod straddled across the top of it. I don't know whether to eat it or admire it.

“This looks heavenly.” Jessica's deep-red talons reach for a shrimp nestled in a martini glass filled with crushed ice. Only in places like this does food become art.

We’re sitting in one of Chicago’s most expensive French restaurants. My slow and subtle pursuit of her continues. She’s playing hard to get, too. Which helps. The chase is exhilarating. At some point, I’ll find her sexually attractive, which is important given that she ticks the right boxes for so many other things.

“You are a man of exemplary taste and refinement, Brandon. It’s one of the things I like about you.”

“Just one?” I take a sip of water from the sparkling thin-stemmed glass.

“Stop fishing for compliments.” She gives me a provocative smile. Those shiny, glossy, red lips are inviting, and yet I don’t feel the rush of adrenaline that I should. Could it be because we haven’t yet jumped into bed yet?

“I’m not fishing.” I sober up, not that I’m drunk, not the slightest, but the more I meet with her and get to know her, the more I keep wondering and waiting for a flash of desire to scorch my already cold heart.

It hasn’t so far, and I tell myself it’s because Jessica is composed and self-assured, that she’s elegant and refined, and that tearing-one-another’s-clothes-off sex isn’t how this relationship will go.

I found her on a list of the most eligible and successful women in Chicago. What struck me was her quiet beauty; perfectly coiffed chestnut brown hair, swept back ‘50s style. She’s more polished than voluptuous. Physically and otherwise, she is perfect and she ticks all the boxes for the type of woman I envision my future with; a future which will involve society parties, gala evenings, fundraiser events. I need to be with someone like Jessica.

I tell myself that the desire and lust will come later. She has made it perfectly clear that she doesn’t want to rush into anything either, having come out of a relationship that ‘trampled her heart to shreds’. That sounds brutal, and she’s had a hard knock, which means she must have loved hard and fiercely. I can’t remember loving anyone like that. I don’t let go of my emotions or give up my feelings. Being vulnerable is not a state I allow myself to be in.

“You’re successful, powerful and rich, of course you’re going to have impeccable taste.” Jessica leans across slightly, so that her lips are harder for me to ignore. I dip my head, analyzing the order of her words. Women want a man who is rich and powerful. She and I are looking for the same things and we couldn’t be more right for one another.

“I don’t want to rush anything,” she says as an afterthought, and the fact that she has mentioned this before makes me wonder if she also doesn’t feel that bolt of desire shooting through her.

For all our fancy dinners, and polite and refined conversations, often taking place while we admire various works of art in her gallery, there is the niggling feeling that the chemistry is lackluster. My father had a string of mistresses, and perhaps that is how things will be for me later on.

The server brings over the champagne and starts to pour.

“To the good things in life,” I say, when both our glasses are filled.

Jessica raises her glass to mine. “To all the good things.”

I chuckle to myself, thinking about my interview with Kyra Lewis. Now that is one woman I wouldn’t touch with a ten-foot pole, even if she were the last woman left on Earth. There is nothing sleek or polished about her. No admirable qualities that I can discern and, given her desire to make life better for the losers of our society, I struggle to understand her.

“What’s so funny?” A questioning twinkle in Jessica’s eyes loosens my guard. I have told her about my next ambitious project, of my desire to turn Greenways, that dumpster fire of real estate, into something that will make money, instead of bleed money for useless causes, but she doesn’t know of my ploy, or the pathetic attempt I made to infiltrate Lewis’s outfit.

“I’m not sure what to do about Greenways. One of the business people there, a woman, runs a nonprofit organization and she’s going to be a thorn in my side.”

“You must be referring to Kyra Lewis.”

“You know her?” This surprises me because the two women might as well be from different galaxies for all that they have in common.

Jessica looks visibly disgusted. “People like that? God, no. She feeds homeless people, and I … don’t.”

I sit upright. “How do you know?” This catches my attention like a bolt of lightning. I casually skimmed over the file that Emma had prepared for me on her. I didn’t take her seriously before, but maybe I should. The fact that Jessica knows of her is a testament to Lewis’s draw.

“She’s the city’s newest icon, aside from Elias Cardoza.” Jessica’s voice drops an octave. I don’t like that she’s talking about that boxer guy as if she’s in awe of him. Cardoza is the toast of the town. The King of Chicago. He used to be Chicago’s New Hope when he first came on the scene. The city loves him. Even when he lost the fight to defend his title, the people didn’t give up on him. There’s a rematch slated for next month and everyone is rooting for Cardoza to win.

He and I have something in common. We both stayed at the same children’s home, but I didn’t suffer the abuse that he did. I was rescued by a wonderful couple who gave me a new life.

“What do you know of her?” I ask.

“That she looks like a mutt. Short-haired and skinny. It’s a national disgrace that there seems to be so much interest in her.”

While Lewis is not my ideal woman, I wouldn’t describe her the way Jessica has. Short shoulder-length hair, green defiant eyes, and attitude, that’s how I saw her.

“Don’t you read any magazines?” Jessica asks.

I only read the financial papers, and the business news, and I’m certain that the likes of Kyra Lewis don’t appear in them. Jessica runs her hand down her chocolate brown hair. Her manicured hands and her perfectly painted nails indicate that this woman has time to run a business and take good care of herself.

She goes on to tell me how Lewis has become a rising star in the last few years on account of her business.

It’s a shame that Lewis didn’t hire me for free. Now I have to come up with Plan B.