Chapter 4
4
KAISEN
I sat in the boardroom of my New York City headquarters, my fingers drumming impatiently on the polished mahogany table. The room was filled with the usual suspects—suits, ties, and enough ego to fill a stadium. Someone was droning on about quarterly projections or market trends or some other nonsense, but I wasn’t listening. My mind was elsewhere. I glanced down at my watch. I inwardly groaned when I saw it was only a quarter to three. I still had hours of this torture ahead of me. I was already counting down the minutes until I could escape.
The presenter—some junior analyst whose name I couldn’t be bothered to remember—was clicking through a PowerPoint slide deck that looked like it had been designed before he’d even been born. He was talking about “synergistic opportunities” in the Brooklyn market, throwing around buzzwords like confetti at a parade. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes.
I made my fortune in luxury real estate. I knew a little something about what actually worked versus the buzzwords these guys thought I wanted to hear.
“We’ve identified several underutilized properties in the Williamsburg area,” he said. He spoke with the kind of enthusiasm only someone who’d never actually dealt with a Brooklyn landlord could muster. “With some strategic investment, we can cater to the influx of young professionals and creatives relocating from Manhattan.”
I leaned back in my chair, arms crossed, and suppressed a sigh. “Young professionals and creatives,” I repeated dryly, interrupting him mid-sentence. “You mean people who can’t afford Manhattan rents and think paying four grand for a one-bedroom in Brooklyn is a steal?”
The room went quiet. The analyst froze, his mouth slightly open as if he hadn’t anticipated being challenged. A few of the senior execs exchanged glances, some amused, others clearly uncomfortable with my tone. I didn’t care. I was in no mood to waste time on fluff.
“Mr. Seely,” the analyst stammered, adjusting his tie nervously. “I understand your concern, but the data suggests that this demographic is growing rapidly, and their spending power?—”
He droned on and I went back to my daydreaming.
I checked my watch again, frowning. My day was packed, as usual. But it was all in preparation for my vacation. I was going to be away from the office for four whole weeks. A month. I’d never taken that much time off before. Sure, I’d taken the occasional vacation—usually to justify the existence of my yacht in the Mediterranean—but never this long. Never for something like a wedding.
Cullen’s wedding.
I leaned back in my chair, trying to focus on the meeting, but my thoughts kept drifting. Cullen wasn’t just my best friend; he was the closest thing I had to a brother. We’d met in high school, two kids from different worlds thrown together at some prestigious private school. He’d been the scholarship kid, the one who worked twice as hard to prove he belonged. I’d been the rich kid, the one who didn’t have to try at all. Somehow, we’d clicked. We’d been inseparable ever since—through high school, college, and now, as adults navigating the cutthroat worlds of finance and real estate.
I respected Cullen. He had gotten out of college and climbed the ladder on Wall Street. He now managed a hedge fund and was doing very well for himself. He was one of the few real people I knew. He wasn’t my friend because of my name or the money. We respected each other. Cullen was one of the only people I allowed to call me out on my shit. And when he did, I knew it was warranted.
But this wedding? It was a lot. Four weeks of wedding planning, bachelor parties, rehearsals, and ceremonies. Four weeks of dealing with people I didn’t know, pretending to care about things I didn’t understand.
And then there was Dorie.
I scowled at the thought of her, my jaw tightening. Dorie Blake. The woman had somehow managed to get under my skin in the span of one infuriating conversation. She was intolerable. She was beautiful. She was… distracting.
“Kaisen, do you not agree?”
The voice snapped me out of my thoughts, and I looked up to see the entire boardroom staring at me. I had no idea what they were talking about. I hadn’t been listening for the last five minutes. I cleared my throat, leaning forward in my chair. “I think we’re overcomplicating this. Let’s table it for now and revisit next week.”
There were a few murmurs of agreement, but I didn’t stick around to hear them. I stood, grabbing my suit jacket from the back of my chair. “Carry on without me. I have somewhere to be.”
I didn’t wait for a response, striding out of the boardroom and down the hall to the elevator. My driver, Doug, was already waiting for me on the street, the sleek black town car idling at the curb. I slid into the back seat, pulling out my phone to call Cullen.
“Hey, man,” Cullen answered. “What’s up?”
“I’m done for the day,” I said, glancing out the window. I barely noticed the people on the street or the stream of yellow cabs. “Meet me at the usual spot.”
Cullen didn’t need to ask where. He knew. Twenty minutes later, I walked into the dive bar in Midtown that had been our go-to spot since we got our fake IDs in high school. It wasn’t the kind of establishment that looked too hard at a license to determine just how real it was. The place hadn’t changed in years—sticky floors, dim lighting, and the faint smell of stale booze. March Madness was blaring on the TVs, and the only things on the menu were cheap beer and bottom-shelf whiskey. It was perfect.
Both of us could obviously afford one of the uptown lounges or cigar clubs, but that was not where we liked to be. At least not usually. There was a time and place for the exclusive clubs.
Cullen was already there, sitting at our usual table in the corner. He raised his glass in greeting as I approached. I slid into the seat across from him, signaling the bartender for a whiskey.
“You ready for the next month of wedding madness?” Cullen asked.
“I think that’s the question I should be asking you,” I said.
“Yeah, but you’re going to be right beside me doing a lot of the heavy lifting.”
“Do I have a choice?” I asked with a smirk.
Cullen laughed, shaking his head. “Not really. But hey, it’s going to be fun. You’ll see. It’s a big party. And you get to see me marry the woman of my dreams.”
I wanted to groan. Or gag. But instead, I took a sip of my whiskey, letting the burn distract me from the chaos that was about to unfold. Cullen and Eliza’s wedding was turning into a massive event, mostly because I was footing the bill for a lot of it. I wanted to. It was my wedding gift to him.
They had chosen a beachside venue just outside of Cape May. I was taking care of the historic church for the ceremony, the DJ, the Michelin-star chef… and the cakes.
I growled into my glass at the thought. “A thousand dollars for a cake? That’s insane. And you’re telling me that’s with the family discount? I think someone is getting ripped off.”
Cullen shrugged, unfazed. “It’s a wedding. Everything’s insanely priced. It’s how these vendors support themselves year-round. But Eliza won’t let Dorie do it for free, so…”
I rolled my eyes. “It’s a cake. How hard can it be?”
Cullen gave me a look, one that said he knew exactly what I was thinking. “Be nice to Dorie, okay? She’s the maid of honor, and she’s involved in everything. Just like you.”
I snorted. “Nice? To her? Not a chance. Have you met her?”
Cullen sighed. “Come on, man. She’s Eliza’s sister. And she’s… well, she’s Dorie. You’ll see. She’s nice. I heard you two ran into each other, literally.”
I guffawed and shook my head. “She told you about that?”
“Dorie told Eliza. Said you ran her down and didn’t even apologize.”
“She was standing right in the way of the running path.” Saying it out loud, I realized it was a shitty defense. “I did stick around and help her up. She could have killed me. It was dark and she was wearing black pants and a dark shirt. I didn’t see her until we collided.”
Cullen raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. “Sounds like you’re still trying to justify it. Just apologize, Kaisen. It’s not that hard. You’re going to be seeing a lot of her over the next month, so you might as well clear the air. And pay attention when you’re running. The next one might sue you.”
“I won’t be a dick, but don’t expect me to be best friends with her. She’s as cuddly as sandpaper.”
Cullen chuckled, shaking his head. “You keep saying that, but I think you’re just mad because she doesn’t fall at your feet like every other woman in your life.”
I shot him a glare. “That’s not it.”
“Sure it’s not,” Cullen said, his tone dripping with sarcasm.
Dorie Blake was a mystery—one I had no intention of solving. She was infuriating, opinionated, and way too beautiful for her own good. And yet, I couldn’t stop thinking about her. About the way her apron had hugged her waist, the way her curls had escaped from her bun, the way she’d glared at me like I was the most annoying person on the planet.
“Kaisen,” Cullen said, pulling me out of my thoughts. “You okay? You seem off.”
I shook my head, forcing a smile. “I’m fine. Just… a lot going on.”
Cullen didn’t look convinced, but he didn’t push. “How is it going with the bachelor party planning?”
I flashed a grin. “Good. Why? Rethinking the idea of getting attached to a ball and chain?”
“I’m not rethinking marrying the love of my life,” he replied.
“You’re making me sick,” I said.
He chuckled. “You say that now. One of these days…”
“None of these days,” I told him. “Not going to happen.”
“Are you taking a date to the wedding?” he asked.
“Nope.”
“Eliza wants to vet any woman you bring,” he said.
“Vet my date?”
“After the last double date fiasco, she doubts your judgment.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said.
We both knew I knew exactly what he was talking about.
“The one where your date spent the entire dinner talking about her ex’s pet iguana and how it inspired her to start a reptile rescue? Yeah, Eliza’s still not over that. Way too much cloaca talk at the table.”
“I thought she was normal when I met her at that charity gala. She seemed… composed. Classy, even. Then she starts rambling about how iguanas are misunderstood creatures and how they deserve love too.”
“You saw boobs,” he said. “Boobs and a willing woman.”
I grinned. “She did have a nice rack, which reminds me, I have a date tonight.”
“I think you are using the word ‘date’ pretty loosely,” he said with a laugh. “I think it’s a booty call. A hookup. You’re never going to see the woman again.”
He was not wrong. “It’s better that way.”
“Who is it tonight?” he asked. “From the hookup app?”
“Yep. She’s a model or something. I don’t remember her name. I’m sure she’ll tell me.”
“And I’m sure you’ll forget tomorrow.”
I laughed again. “Maybe. I’ll see you later.”
I left the bar and climbed into the back of the town car. I had just enough time to get home and change before my date. My phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out and checked the screen to see a text message from Eliza.
Eliza: Don’t forget about the cake tasting tomorrow. Be nice to Dorie.
I groaned, tossing my phone onto the seat beside me. Nice. Right. Because that was going to be easy.