Chapter 7
CHAPTER SEVEN
Beck
Normally, I was all about finding creative solutions to impossible problems. That was what real estate development was all about, but normal was not the situation I was in.
A shit-storm—that was the situation I was currently in.
“Look, Beck, I’ve done as much as I can. Your time is up.” Craig’s voice rang out from the speakerphone on my shiny glass desk.
Chills ran down my body. There had to be more I could do.
I couldn’t just walk away from the Mayfair project.
I spun my chair to the side, so I got a view of St Paul’s dome towering above me.
The sight through the windows was a reminder to me of how far I’d come.
“It’s not as simple as putting it behind me.
The market’s changed. No one can hold property for a few months without developing it and come out with a profit. ”
I’d lose ten million pounds.
At least.
And if it was just ten million pounds, it would be easier to walk away. But this development offered me more than money could buy.
Craig wasn’t the one who’d have to swallow the loss and he certainly wasn’t going to lose sleep over me walking away from a lifetime’s ambition.
“So, you’ll make a loss. It’s a sunk cost. Move on.”
I shook my head. That wasn’t going to happen. I hadn’t given up on Henry. If I could just get five minutes, I was sure I could convince him to sell.
“I know it’s not what you want to hear, but the bank can’t extend terms anymore.
We’re going to have to pull the funding.
You’ll get an official notice by courier later today setting out that you have thirty days to either start works, or we’ll step in and put the property on the market if you still refuse to. ”
I sat back in my chair, running a finger around the collar of my shirt, as if trying to loosen the noose I felt tightening around my throat.
The words had been said. Craig had dressed it up but effectively I’d be in default of my loan if I didn’t make progress within the month.
I’d lose money, my dream, and my reputation was going to take a kicking.
I was down for the count. I had to stumble to my feet somehow—find the energy from somewhere.
There was no way I could let the bank step in. If the development failed, there would be whispers in the industry about whether I’d lost my edge. It might even put off future lenders funding other projects. I couldn’t go backward. I’d come a long way from developing one-off flats in the East End.
Stella bloody London.
I’d thought she’d be the answer to everything. But I hadn’t given up on her.
I had to think creatively. But at the moment I was out of ideas, my brain was blank, and hope was the only thing left.
“I’m not going to default,” I told Craig. “I’ll have the signatures on the Dawnay building, believe me.”
“I hope so, but like I said, you get thirty days to get that transfer to happen or we take steps to recover the loan.”
A knock on my office door interrupted my quick comeback.
“I’ll keep you updated,” I said, and turned to see the door open and the receptionist enter.
“I have to go, my next meeting’s arrived.
” I didn’t have a meeting for a couple of hours, but there was no point in rehashing old ground with Craig.
I understood him loud and clear. He’d lowered the sword of Damocles a couple of centimeters more.
“Sorry to interrupt, sir,” Gina said, “but I have a Stella London in reception who insists that you’ll want to see her.”
The pressure around my ribs abated a little, allowing me to take a breath and register the grin that was nudging at the corners of my mouth.
Just when I thought my arse was about to hit the floor, lady luck smiled on me and brought me Stella London. There was only one reason she’d be here—to make a deal.
Right about now, I’d say yes to anything she wanted to get me into that wedding.
I asked Gina to bring her in, then dragged my fingers through my hair.
Stella entered the room, her blonde hair swept back from her face, her red skirt clinging to her perfect hourglass figure.
The hairs on the back of my neck stood to attention as if about to be inspected by a sergeant major.
Perhaps it was because she’d been sitting when I’d met her, but I hadn’t remembered her as being quite so attractive.
“Thanks for coming in,” I said. “Can I offer you something to drink? Tea, coffee?”
“I’ll take a sparkling water. No ice.”
I glanced at Gina who nodded and shut the door on her way out.
“It’s nice to see you again.” Attractive women were always nice to see, but I was hoping I was going to like what she had to say even better than I liked looking at her. And I liked looking at her a lot.
“Now I’ve done some research about you so I’m not so much on the back foot,” she said.
If she’d looked me up, she must be interested in whether I could be trusted.
And that meant she was definitely interested in making a deal.
Now she knew I wasn’t a charlatan or a conman, we could get on with business.
“Please, have a seat,” I said, indicating the chair opposite my desk.
“And you must tell me what you found out.”
She glanced around my office as she sat. “A lot.” She narrowed her eyes at me as I took a seat opposite her. “Some good things. Some . . .” She blushed, clearly not wanting to tell me what she was thinking, which made me want to know all the more. “Lots of things.”
“Tell me,” I said, and I couldn’t help but grin. Christ, the blush began to spread down her neck, and I wanted to pull open the buttons of her blouse and trace it down as far as it went.
“Never mind,” she snapped. Her sharp words made my cock twitch, and I cleared my throat, trying to focus my attention on the business she was here to do. “But I do know that you need an introduction to Henry, which I can provide you with.”
“So, I’ll accompany you to the wedding?” My heart knocked on my ribs as if it were trying to get my attention.
Was it that easy? “For the entire week,” I added.
I had thirty days, and by the time the wedding rolled around, I’d have a week left.
I’d need all the time I could get with Henry.
It wasn’t just a question of convincing him to do the deal in principle.
I needed his signature on the paperwork.
“If you agree to my terms.”
She just had to name them. There was nothing I wouldn’t do to go to this wedding.
After that call with Craig, I had no time to lose.
It was like I was standing, looking at the summit of Everest just a few steps away, and being told I couldn’t make it.
I hadn’t come all this way just to walk away from achieving everything I ever wanted.
“Go on,” I said, trying not to look too eager to hear what she had to say.
“You’ve been holding the Mayfair properties next to Henry’s a while now and it must be costing you a lot of money.”
I wanted her to get to the point. She wasn’t telling me anything I didn’t know.
“What are your terms, Stella?”
“I’ve had a look at your work.” She paused as if deciding what to say next.
“I want to be the designer on the building—kitchens, bathrooms, floors, joinery, finishes, then I’ll decorate and dress an apartment for public viewings.
” She crossed her long legs in front of her, and I had to fight to keep focused on what she was saying.
I let her words sink in and tried to reorder them in my brain in a way that made sense.
“You’re a recruitment consultant,” I said, trying to think back to the research I’d had done on her.
She’d moved to London about six months ago from Manchester and started at the recruitment firm.
Had she had a background in design? Surely she didn’t think anyone off the street could become a designer overnight.
“I trained in interior design,” she said. “Had my own business up until six months ago. This kind of project is right up my street.”
Her gaze flitted from my shoulder to my hand and then out of the window.
She was lying about something. I just wasn’t sure which bit.
I remember that she’d had her own business in a completely unrelated field when she’d been in Manchester.
I must have been so fixated on being able to give work to the recruitment consultancy that I’d skimmed over the fact that it was an interior design business.
Shit, I was so hungry for a win, I was missing details.
“I have someone for that project already.” How serious was she about this?
Could I persuade her just to take a check? That would be a lot easier.
She pushed out her chair and went to stand as if the conversation was over, but there was no way I’d let her leave. “Talk to me about your experience. You’re in recruitment now, why do you want to go back?”
“I changed jobs because of a personal situation, but designing is what I want to do,” she said.
“I love great design but more than that, I like to create homes that people love to live in—places people can imagine themselves. Places people raise a family, celebrate their successes, and recover from their failures. It’s my passion, my calling if you like, and I’m really good at it.
” She cleared her throat as if she were nervous.
“You asked me for my terms—I’m telling you what they are. ”
At least she was prepared to make a deal. “Do you have a portfolio that I can look at?” Rather than just dismiss her conditions, hopefully I could point out, as charmingly as possible, why her suggestion was ludicrous, and I could get her to accept something else—something I was able to give her.
“This isn’t a job interview. If you don’t want to go to this wedding, then fine.” She stood and had her hand on my office door handle by the time I got to her.