Love and Warner

Chapter 1

Warner Landers

“Are you going to close this deal, or do I need to handle it, Carl?”

The sky has darkened, causing my office to dim with it. The lamp on my desk can’t fight the gray cloud cover sheathing the city outside the floor-to-ceiling office windows. Rain is imminent. I welcome the downpour. It suits my mood.

“I won’t let you down,” he says. “I’ll get it done. Promise.”

“I don’t want your promises. I want the preliminary paperwork on my desk by five on Friday for review. Do you understand?”

“All parties have been notified of the final deadline, sir. I’ll get the paperwork to you for approval and send it out right after,” he replies, though I know he tacks on the sir more in sarcasm than respect.

I’m not bothered. I don’t need his respect.

He was hired because he closes deals. That’s what I need him to do this time as well.

“You’ll have the contract on your desk in two days. ”

“See you then.” I hang up and walk the length of my office as if I’ll see something new from a view I’ve stared at for the past four years.

The blanket of clouds seeps into the avenues and wraps around the New York skyline in desperation to shield the buildings from me.

Nothing is safe in this city. Not if I have a say.

Those were the last words my father imparted before his death came too soon, leaving me in charge of his empire.

I’ll do anything to make him proud. Closing the last three deals he couldn’t, will be carried out in his name. The celebration is already planned for Friday night with my mother in attendance. I won’t let anything stop me from honoring his legacy.

The phone on my desk rings, causing me to return to my desk. I hit the speakerphone button to answer my assistant, and ask, “Yes?”

“Ms. Bayetti is on line one for you, Mr. Landers,” Jocelyn replies.

“I don’t know who that is. Please take a message.”

Just as I’m about to disconnect, she adds, “She said it was urgent.”

“Urgent?” I’ve never heard of the woman, and now she has business that requires my immediate attention?

Chuckling, though I find no entertainment in the failed attempt to call me out of the blue and discuss matters that surely don’t involve me, I reply, “If I took every call that stated that, I wouldn’t have time to breathe. Take a message, Jocelyn. Thank you.”

“Yes, sir.”

Resting back in the leather chair, I stare at the monitor taking up most of the real estate on my desk and scan the unopened emails.

If I scrolled the page, they would keep me here past midnight every night of the week to deal with them.

This is the list after Jocelyn cleaned it up.

Dropping my head, I rub my index finger and thumb across my brow in an effort to ease some of the tension that’s set up permanent residency there.

When the time came, I was ready to be CEO.

I still am, but I thought it would include big ideas, managing projects, and guidance on buyouts to grow the company.

I used to sit in on meetings and participate in the growth.

But now, menial tasks of reassuring investors in emails and on calls seemed to be my only purpose.

The door opens. “It’s going to rain,” my best friend says as he walks in. He kicks the door closed behind him and goes straight to the couch, where he flops down and props his feet up on my coffee table.

“I appreciate the personalized forecast.” Watching as he settles in like he’s at home, I ask, “What brings you by, Jimmy?” I’ve known the guy since we were in kindergarten.

We both grew up in the city, but I was driven home to Park Avenue after school while he took the subway to StuyTown.

However, the distance didn’t stop us from meeting up and treating this city like our own playground.

“Got out of a meeting early a block over and thought I’d stop by to visit my best man. What’s going on today?”

“Have some deals closing and too much taskwork. Nothing worth discussing.”

With his arms spread wide across the back of the couch, he says, “The work of a CEO is never done.” His eyes pivot to the windows again. “I was going to see if you wanted to grab a beer, but that cloud cover looks downright vengeful up here.”

At thirty-four, and on the brink of his wedding, it’s not only his life that’s changing but ours.

From two of us to three . . . the two of them.

Am I losing my best friend? Am I now a third wheel?

I don’t genuinely believe that, but deep down, it’s time to accept that change is on the horizon.

Feeling nostalgic for the good party days of our college years, I ask, “Since when did we let a little rain stop us?”

Chuckling, he brings his feet to the floor and leans forward, resting his forearms on his legs. “It never did. But your work has gotten in the way plenty of times.”

He’s not wrong. I glance at the emails. I’m in no mood to deal with the mundane for another hour. With a smirk, I say, “Let’s remedy it.” I stand and come around, grabbing my phone from the desk and tucking it into my back pocket. “I’m buying the first round to celebrate.”

“You’re buying all the rounds, moneybags.”

He stands and follows me to the door. I laugh as I march toward the door like we’ll get busted if we don’t get out quickly. I leave my suit jacket hanging in the closet and start to roll up my sleeves to loosen my mood.

When I open the door, Jocelyn looks up. Her eyebrows rise, and then the slightest smile taunts the corners of her mouth upward. “Looks like you’re off to an important meeting.”

“Yes,” I reply, shoving my hands in my pockets. Nodding, I grin. “Very important. Take messages unless it’s an emergency. I have my phone on me.”

“Will do. Have fun.”

I turn on my heel before others notice me escaping before five o’clock on a Wednesday. “Have a good night.”

Jimmy and I walk down the corridor of the office toward the exit.

When I open the door to our waiting room, the receptionist stands, seemingly startled just as a woman on the other side of the tall counter shifts to stare at us.

There’s a chill in the air between them despite interrupting what feels like a heated conversation.

I’ve never seen this receptionist before, so it’s safe to assume she doesn’t know who I am either.

Heading out the door is not the time for introductions.

Eyeing me and then Jimmy, she says, “Hello.” There’s an impatience to her voice, and her eyes appear frantic from the angular dip at the corners and the way they search between us for help.

“Hello,” I reply, sweeping my hand over my hair. “Everything okay?”

“Fine. Fine. I was just letting our visitor know,” she says, referencing the other woman, “that she can’t just show up expecting to see someone. She needs to make an appointment.”

I glance at the other woman. Her lighter blue eyes are set on mine as if I’ll give her a different answer.

She moves closer, the skirt of her dress not moving under the small step.

“It’s very important,” she says much quieter as if I’m the only one here.

The plea has me weakening, but my employees are trusted to do their jobs.

I don’t need to step in to handle it, but guilt coats my gut. I’m shirking responsibility. My father would be disappointed. I take a breath. Knowing the right thing to do is stay and deal with her inquiry, I open my mouth. “How can—”

“Elevator is almost here,” Jimmy says with a not-so-subtle hint.

Stay strong and leave. That’s all you have to do, Landers.

Walk to the elevator and leave with Jimmy, the friend I’ve been blowing off for months to work more than I should.

“I’m sure . . .” I glance at the receptionist again.

Since I don’t know her name, I say, “She’ll make sure the message is delivered.

” When I glance at her again, she nods. I’m intrigued by what could be so pressing, but I refrain from asking. “Have a good day.”

Jimmy grins when he sees me coming. “Almost lost you.” Stopping beside him, I glance back at her and overhear her tell the receptionist, “Please. You don’t understand—”

“There’s nothing I can do,” she snaps. “I’ve already left a message with Mr. Landers’ assistant.”

My shoulders fall. Fuck. There’s no familiarity when I look at her, but the attractive woman has piqued more than my curiosity.

I debate again if I should get involved, introduce myself, and ease the tension between the two women.

She is desperate to see me for some reason. “Surely we can spare a minute or two.”

“Or thirty to an hour like usual,” Jimmy replies under his breath. The elevator dings, making the decision for us. When the doors slide open, I’m bumped as Jimmy steps around me. “Leave it at the office, man.”

He’s right. I don’t need to involve myself.

More importantly, a drink with him takes priority.

Maybe that’s a careless decision, but I’m willing to take the heat later for it.

I get in the elevator after him, settling into the corner and leaning against the wood-paneled wall.

Just as the doors begin to close, a hand—no rings, specifically not on a certain finger—waves between the doors, causing them to part again.

The woman steps on with a hand stuck to her hip and a smile plastered on her face.

“Thanks for holding it, guys,” she says, the sarcasm hitting like a Mack truck, making me realize her smile isn’t so genuine.

As we’re met with her back, she double taps the lobby button that’s already lit up and then crosses her arms over her chest under heavy exasperation.

The doors close as if she made a difference, which causes me to grin to myself.