15. Jake
Chapter 15
Jake
B y the time Monday morning rolls around, I’m fucking exhausted. I usually love my time at the fire station and rescuing that sweet little girl is something I’ll remember for the rest of my life.
But it was also new. I’ve never had to pull a frightened, wailing child to safety before. Never had a mom weep with relief as I handed her child to her even as she, herself, was being treated for second degree burns on her legs.
I slept like the dead the night of the fire, but last night, I was alone in my own bed, on the top floor, and I still smelled like smoke. Not quite a panic attack, my heart rate was still far above normal and I had trouble sleeping. I’m paying for it this morning. It would seem burning the candle at both ends while being emotionally exhausted over what the fuck I’m going to do about Cora and Dylan has me wrecked.
“Mr. Ellington, your two o’clock just checked in,” Peggy informs me through the intercom on my phone.
My two o’clock? Fuck, what happened to my morning?
“Patch him through, Peggy. Thanks.”
“He’s here , Mr. Ellington. The meeting is in person. It’s with Martin Cosey.”
Hearing my future father-in-law’s name startles me. “Why is he meeting with me? He’s my father’s client.”
“I’m not sure, sir. Seemed above my pay grade to ask.”
“Right, thanks, Peggy.”
I quickly pull up his account, but there’s nothing here that helps me.
Shortly after Peggy and I hang up, knuckles rap on the solid wooden door of my office. I click the button under my desk to unlock the door before standing to greet the governor as he enters.
“Martin. Good to see you. Come on in.”
I blink rapidly, trying to push back all signs of exhaustion, not wanting any weaknesses to show. Martin will ask questions that I can’t answer and if he shares his concerns with Cora, she’ll echo his questions on a much grander scale.
Martin is a no-bullshit kind of guy. Handsome, charming, and outgoing, he easily owns the polls during elections, but his competition is strong this year. He’s always been aboveboard in his campaigns and isn’t big on smearing the other candidates which I’ve always respected. He conducts his business as a gentleman and I often wish my father would do the same.
Martin strides toward me and shakes my hand firmly, a warm smile on his face.
“Jacob. Thank you for meeting with me. I know we just met for dinner not too long ago, but I dislike the taste of mixing business with family time so I didn’t want to start the discussion then.”
I offer Martin a cup of coffee as I refill my own, praying the caffeine kicks in quickly.
He takes the cup, sits down on the leather couch in my office, pulls a folder out of his briefcase, and begins spreading papers across the glass top of the coffee table in front of him.
“Come. Sit. I want to discuss a real estate opportunity.”
My eyes light up. Although I manage all types of investment portfolios, real estate ventures have been a growing passion of mine.
I set my own coffee aside and begin leafing through the pages as he talks.
“This is a condo building about twenty miles east of here that I’d love to get my hands on. Decent side of town, nice for young professionals or those just starting families, but the best part is what’s across the street.”
I take the plat map he hands me.
“There’s nothing across the street,” I point out.
“Exactly. I want to build a shopping center there. Grocery store, bank, high-end restaurants, and high-end shopping. I want to own the housing and provide the necessary conveniences and luxuries in shopping and dining so people never have to leave.”
From a business perspective, it makes sense. It makes a lot of sense. This would dump copious amounts of revenue into his pockets. And if he has a steady stream of revenue, he wouldn’t need to rely on my father’s financial backing so much …which means Cora and I could potentially end our relationship without causing a major upset to the balance.
I sit up straighter, flipping through the pages of statistical data, feeling my brief flash of hope fizzle out as I stare at the reality before me.
“What you’re proposing sounds good in theory, but if you’re talking about building a Neiman Marcus or Rolex storefront, the people currently living in those condos won’t be giving you much business. It’s a decent side of town, but as you mentioned, they’re young professionals and people just beginning the expensive journey of raising children. They won’t be dropping thousands of dollars on high-end retail,” I point out, hating my logic because it doesn’t sell him on his own idea, an idea that could potentially restore my freedom.
“I’m thinking more about longevity. Build the shops to attract the right kind of clientele and then as we build up the area around those condos, we slowly increase rent. Eventually, the affluent will want to live there and will begin to occupy the condos vacated by those who choose not to pay the higher prices.”
Those who choose not to pay the higher prices…like it’s a choice when the rent becomes more than these people make in a month.
I have to tread carefully here. Martin has a lot of connections that our business relies on. Pissing off the governor isn’t a good look, but I already don’t love how this feels and honestly, I expected better from him.
Even if his increase in profits could solve my problems, that’s just not how I do business.
“What exactly do you need from me? It sounds like you already have the plan in place and I’m not a realtor.”
“I need your expertise on the market. I need you to assess my portfolio and determine if I have the capital for this kind of long-term project so soon after other purchases. I need you to tell me if I can afford this kind of risk.”
The condo building he’s interested in isn’t even for sale, but once you hit a certain price point, you realize everything is for sale if you throw enough money at it.
I sigh, feeling trapped. Just because I look over his numbers doesn’t mean I have to go any farther with it.
“Sure. Leave these papers with me and I’ll start running some numbers. Let’s plan to touch base again in a couple weeks.”
“The sooner the better. Time is of the essence in deals like this. Let’s plan to meet early next week.” he counters as if I don’t have one hundred and eighty-seven other clients.
“I’ll see what I can do.”
He leans back and resumes drinking his coffee. “So, how are things with Cora? Are you looking forward to the charity gala coming up?”
“Things are going well. As always. I’m very proud of her. I’m excited to see the results of all her hard work.”
“You know, you two have been together quite a while.” Ah, here it comes. “Have you given any thought to the future?”
Only every single day.
“Of course. Cora’s only twenty-four. We have plenty of time,” I answer, diplomatically.
“Don’t you worry she’ll grow tired of waiting?” he asks, eyeing me over the top of his cup.
Meeting his eyes, I toe the very thin line between respect and control. “No. I don’t.”
Before the conversation can devolve any further, my cell phone rings from my desk and Martin and I can both clearly see Cora’s name on the screen.
He stands to show himself out. “I’ll let you get that. We’ll be in touch.”
A headache is starting to form behind my eyes.
“Hey, Cora.”
“Hi, Jacob! I wanted to know if you’ve chosen your suit for the gala? I need to make sure we’re coordinated.” The event isn’t for another couple of weeks, but Cora is nothing if not prepared.
“I haven’t thought about it quite yet, but why don’t you tell me what you’re wearing and I’ll choose a suit that matches.”
“I was thinking the plum dress. The long silk one. Since it’s an evening event I think I can get away with the darker color even though it’s technically still summer. I adore that dress. Plus, it’ll be the perfect contrast to the lime green muscular dystrophy ribbons.”
“Good choice. You’re stunning in that one. Then again, you look stunning in all of them.”
She gives a happy laugh. “Jacob, you say all the right things.”
If only I felt all the right things.
“Listen, Cora, I wanted to ask you something. I know you’ll be busy that night, and of course I’m always available to help should you need anything, but would you mind if I invited Dylan?”
“Does he have much interest in a charity for muscular dystrophy?” She laughs, but it’s strained.
I’ve pushed too far.
Dammit.
“Actually, never mind. It was selfish of me to ask,” I try to backtrack and put her at east.
“Well, considering your father found a way to add those three extra tables to host his clients, I think we can probably squeeze one more chair in at our table.” Fuck my life. Did she just compare me to my father? “I’ll add Dylan to the guest list. Will he be bringing a date?”
My stomach sours at the thought.
“No, I don’t think so.”
“Well, there’s still time. Maybe I can introduce him to a few of the girls while he’s there,” she suggests, trying to be helpful. “He’s a good-looking guy. I’m surprised he’s not already attached.”
“Mmhmm,” I agree noncommittally.
“Well, it’s all set. I’ve updated the guest list,” she says a moment later.
“Thanks, Cor. I appreciate it.”
“I’ve got a meeting with the caterer to confirm the menu and then I need to pick up the last of the silent auction items. Tomorrow I’m meeting with that client of your dad’s to discuss a breast cancer fundraiser for October. Maybe you and I can have dinner later this week? I have something I’d like to discuss with you.”
Something to discuss usually means asking me for a donation to her next charity project — which I’m always happy to do.
“I’d love to, but unfortunately your dad just dropped by with about ninety-five hours’ worth of work for me that he wants to discuss as soon as possible.”
“Why didn’t he take it to Steve?” she questions just like I did.
“It’s real estate. I guess he knows I know that area of investing better than my father.”
“Oh, that makes sense.”
“You know, you didn’t have to add those tables just for my dad. I really hope he didn’t cause too much stress,” I offer sincerely.
“Once we finally got it figured out it wasn’t a big deal. Besides, I got lunch at The Olive Tree out of it.”
I laugh, my sarcasm thicker than honey when I answer. “Right, because fig jam croissants are worth putting up with Steve Ellington.”
“Well, it wasn’t the Ellington I would have preferred, but since your time has been so divided lately, I figured it was the next best thing.” I’ve never heard Cora be passive-aggressive before and I’m not totally sure how to react. She picks up on my stunned silence and starts talking again. “I just meant between work, the fire station, and the guys, you have a lot on your plate.” We both know Dylan’s been added to that list as well even though she doesn’t specifically call him out. “Besides,” she continues, “it was a working lunch and I think his client’s going to hire me so it was worth my time.”
“Well, at least something good came of it,” I grumble. Cora knows there’s tension between my father and I, but she doesn’t fully understand why. She doesn’t know I’m trapped. She doesn’t know I’m gay. And she definitely doesn’t know my father is hanging my career and my inheritance over my head in order to keep me in line, or that he’s using her to ensure I project the image he wants.
As soon as Cora and I get off the phone, I call Dylan with the good news.
“Cora’s on board,” I say instead of a greeting. “You want to ride with me?”
“Don’t you need to ride with Cora?”
“No. She’ll have to be at the event several hours before the doors open.” It’s not a red-carpet kind of gala so there’s no need for her and I to arrive together as long as we’re seen mingling at each other’s sides throughout the night.
Without being fully aware of what I’m doing, I find myself seated behind my desk with my palm grinding into my cock.
“Can we take the Corvette?” Dylan asks, making me fully hard because he understands the beauty of that car.
“Hell yes, we can.”
Dylan’s laugh barrels down the line straight into my chest. “Sounds like I know your love language.”
Growing serious, I lower my voice and throw a glance at my office door to make sure it’s closed. “How am I supposed to go all night without touching you?”
“Because we aren’t going down that road anymore, remember? At least not until we’re on equal footing and you’re single. Honestly, if I was stronger, I probably wouldn’t have agreed to go at all.”
The pain that lances through me is enough to make me exhale as forcefully as if someone kicked me in the solar plexus.
“Don’t say that. You’ve breathed life into me.”
He’s silent a beat too long before he responds honestly.
“My only fear is that I’ve done it using breath vital to my own existence.”
I’m still mulling over that last sentence long after we’ve hung up when a text from Cora comes through.
Cora 4:32pm
Invite Dylan to dinner Thursday. I’ll cook at your place. I’d like to get to know him better before the gala.
And don’t worry, I told my dad his business would have to wait.