Chapter 4
CHAPTER 4
S weat dripping down his forehead, Stark pressed a button on the treadmill, his run slowing down to a jog to match the decrease in the treadmill’s speed. He jogged another few minutes, continuing to decrease the speed until he was walking normally before he turned off the treadmill.
He stepped off of it and took a swig of water from his water bottle. He was alone in the gym, which, while unusual, was a welcome change. He had no qualms about his employees using the gym he’d built behind the office building, and the gym was for them as much as it was for him, but after a mostly sleepless night, he wasn’t up to small talk.
He glanced out the window, stretching his quads and grimacing at the burn as he stared at the snow falling in big, thick flakes. His preference was to run the trails of Harmony Falls Park, and even in the colder weather, he often went for a run on one of the flatter trails, the only sound his thudding footsteps and the cold, fresh air invigorating him.
But he’d woken this morning to a snowstorm and subzero temperatures, and even he wasn’t ridiculous enough to run outside in that weather. Instead, he’d settled for a run on the treadmill, pushing himself harder than he usually did in an effort to escape the thoughts that had kept him awake most of the night.
Was it your thoughts that kept you awake or your hard-on from remembering how pretty Rayna Abrams’s breasts are? Pretty and perfect, right?
His upper lip curled, and he wiped angrily at the back of his neck with a towel before stomping toward the locker room. Discovering his next door neighbour stuck in his tree trying to rescue a stupid cat had not been on his weekend Bingo card.
True, but it happened, and now you know exactly what her breasts look like and how soft her skin is. Tell me again, how many times did you practically suck on her goddamn nipple?
It wasn’t his fault! She was the one not wearing a bra. She was the one who’d started twisting and screaming and losing her damn mind while her tits were in his face. He would have preferred not to know what her nipples tasted like, thank you very much.
Liar.
His neighbour was not his type. A plumber and the owner of a local animal rescue, the woman’s outfits made her look like she got dressed in the dark. He’d never seen her hair in anything but a ponytail, and she didn’t wear makeup. His attraction had always skewed toward women who wore makeup, had perfect hair, and wore flattering clothes that weren’t covered in animal hair, and God knows what else.
She might not have a fashion sense, but does she need one with breasts like that?
His scowl deepened. He didn’t care how goddamn perfect her tits were. He hated Rayna Abrams and her stupid refusal to sell her property. If it weren’t for her, he would be halfway to having his new house built. Instead, he was stuck living in a bungalow with horrifying wallpaper, linoleum flooring, and furniture that was popular sometime in the eighties. It was a far cry from his penthouse in the city.
So then stay in the city. You can work remotely, and the New Cassel office struggles more than the Harmony Falls office. It would be better for the company if you returned to the city.
He stripped off his gym clothes, grabbed his towel, and walked naked to the showers. He turned on the water, stepping back and letting the water heat as he stared moodily at the tile his interior designer had convinced him he’d absolutely needed despite the hefty price tag.
He should return to the city, return to his penthouse with its marble flooring and Italian furnishings and the best of the best when it came to decor. It was a far cry from the crappy house he lived in now, but despite how much he loved his penthouse, he hadn’t been happy in the city. Not like he was here in Harmony Falls.
Harmony Falls was small with mediocre restaurants, he could only get a decent cup of coffee at the coffee shop on Main Street, and the town was overrun entirely by obnoxious tourists in the summer, but he could breathe here. Harmony Falls held nothing but good memories for him. Away from his father’s barely hidden contempt and disapproval, he could be who he really was.
No, what he needed to do was convince Ms. Rayna Abrams, she of the perfect breasts, to sell him her property. Then he could tear down that eyesore she called a house, along with the bungalow he was in, and build his perfect home.
You don’t need all three properties, you know. You could build your perfect house on the two properties you own now.
Sure, but he wanted the privacy that owning the third property would give him, and what he wanted, he got. Always. What was the point of having as much money and power as he did if it couldn’t give him what he wanted?
She’s not going to sell it to you.
He stepped under the hot water and let it beat down on him, then quickly washed his hair and body.
Rayna Abrams would eventually sell her property. It was simply a matter of finding the right price or, in her case, the right motivation to make her sell.
He thought again about filing a noise complaint about the barking that almost always emanated from her house before dismissing the idea. Despite how much he personally hated her, discreet inquiries had revealed that Rayna was well-liked in the town, and any attempt on his part to smear her reputation would undoubtedly backfire.
Besides, his earlier threat to put in a noise complaint had been met with scorn from Rayna and not even a hint of fear. She wasn’t easily intimidated, and his usual tactics of getting what he wanted from his enemies would obviously not work. No, he needed to figure out a different way to deal with his annoying next door neighbour, one that wouldn’t have the entire town at his throat for bullying the local animal rescuer.
He muttered a curse when the water pressure noticeably decreased, and he ducked under the spray and rinsed clear of shampoo and soap before shutting off the water and toweling dry.
He wrapped the towel around his waist and headed back to the locker room. A few weeks ago, he and the other employees noticed that the water pressure was decreasing intermittently. His assistant brought in a local plumber who diagnosed the problem as a partially closed shut-off valve and a flow restrictor on the shower head. He’d spent ten minutes in the gym, pronounced the problem fixed, and billed a ridiculously high fee.
Stark dressed quickly and, steeling himself against the cold, walked from the gym to his office building. It was only about twenty feet away, but his fingers were numb by the time he used his keycard to open the back door and stepped into the building.
He’d bought the town’s old firehouse that had sat empty for years for a damn good price and, with some heavy construction and renovations, had converted it into office space for Stark Entertainment. The lower floor housed offices and cubicles, and the upper floor had a freshly remodeled kitchen and a large living area filled with couches, two foosball tables, a pool table, and a large screen television. The kitchen was outfitted with all the latest and best gadgets, including a cappuccino maker, popcorn maker, and panini press. He’d wanted only the best for his employees - happy employees were productive employees - and he’d spared no expense in the new office.
He walked down the long hallway and into the bright and open space of the lower floor, studying the area with a satisfied smile. He had started Stark Entertainment a decade ago, leaving the safety of his father’s company along with his father’s derision and scorn. He’d developed the first six video games for Stark Entertainment himself. While they’d done well and brought in enough profit for him to rent a small office and employ a receptionist and second developer, it was the creation and subsequent explosion in popularity of the Shadow Series video games that had put his company on the map.
Two years after the release of Shadow Dragons, the games his company developed were the hottest commodities in the gaming world. Over the last decade, Stark Entertainment had only increased in value. He became a millionaire by the age of twenty-seven and a multimillionaire by thirty. And not a single dollar of it was because of his father’s wealth. Stark had turned down his mother’s generous offer to help fund the start-up costs for his business. His father had cut Stark off both personally and monetarily the minute he’d decided to start his own company.
The middle of the lower-level office space housed the bullpen, where he could see various employees working at their computers or conversing quietly with one another. The massive bay doors at the front of the converted fire station had been replaced with two giant windows that allowed in plenty of natural light. The reception desk was placed strategically near the front door, and their receptionist, Aditi, chatted with a courier as she signed for a package.
Large offices ran along the far right wall. The office walls were made of frosted glass to help maintain an open and airy feel. One sat empty, but the others housed his head developer, Lucas, the controller, James, his assistant/office manager, Hollis, and lastly, his own office.
He started across the space, stopping when a body came sliding down from the upper level on the metal pole Stark had left in place during renovations. The dark-haired man landed lightly on his feet and smiled cheerfully. “Morning, Boss.”
“Hello, Rupert. How was your weekend?”
“Kick-ass,” Rupert said as he joined him in walking. “Me and Darius went on that two-day wilderness retreat in the Park. We saw a pack of wolves… it was epic. Yours?”
“Good, thanks,” Stark said.
“Nice.” Rupert held out his fist, and Stark bumped it before the junior developer veered off toward the bullpen.
Stark stopped in front of Hollis’s office and knocked lightly on the door.
His assistant glanced up from her laptop and immediately stood. “Good morning, sir.”
“Hollis,” he said. “Seriously with the ‘sir’ shit again?”
She just shrugged and tugged on her suit jacket before straightening her already straight notepad on her freakishly neat desk. “How was your weekend, Mr. Stark?”
Hollis had been his assistant and office manager in the New Cassel office for six years, and she had never once referred to him by anything other than Sir or Mr. Stark. Only a few people in his life called him Isaac, and while Hollis wasn’t on that list, he had mentioned once that she could call him Stark like most people did.
Her withering look of disapproval had made it very clear he’d crossed some invisible line he didn’t know existed, and it had taken nearly two months for her to stop calling him Sir and return to using Mr. Stark again.
When he’d decided to open the second office here in Harmony Falls, there had been two people he was determined to bring with him - one of his best and brightest developers, Lucas Wright and Hollis.
He’d been confident of his ability to convince Lucas to work here in Harmony Falls but less sure of Hollis. He was pleasantly surprised when she’d agreed to move to Harmony Falls and manage the office.
She was a type A personality who ran the office with iron efficiency, and he knew that one of the reasons the New Cassel office was struggling was because Hollis was no longer there to keep things moving smoothly.
He realized she was staring at him with one slightly arched eyebrow as she waited for his answer.
“My weekend was good. Yours?”
“Fine,” she said briskly. Despite how many years they’d worked together, she never engaged in small talk with him, keeping their relationship strictly professional. He knew she was single and didn’t have children, and that was the extent of his knowledge of her personal life.
If he was being honest, it was what he preferred, and her standoffish and sometimes cold personality didn’t bother him in the least. He valued efficiency and discretion, and he and Hollis had worked well together since the moment he’d hired her.
“The gym shower’s water pressure is low again,” he said.
She frowned. “I knew that plumber was useless. I’ll find another one right away, sir. My apologies.”
“Nothing to apologize for,” he said.
She returned to her seat and glanced at her laptop. “Your coffee is on your desk. You have a noon call with Jian to discuss overseas sales and a meeting with James at three this afternoon. Otherwise, your schedule is open.”
“Thank you, Hollis,” he said. “Have I told you lately that the office would fall apart without you?”
“Untrue,” she said, but a faint look of pleasure crossed her face. “Your coffee is getting cold.”
He grinned and headed toward his office.