Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
LEVI
Leaning back in my chair, I press the phone to my ear, listening with the patience of a saint. Arthur Lockwood is rattling on about some clause in the contract he needs clarification on.
I keep my gaze on the city beyond the glass walls of my office to ground me.
Beyond the sixty floors of glass and steel, sunlight flashing off neighboring towers. Usually, the view calms me. But it can’t do a goddamn thing for me now.
This bastard. He’s fucking with me again. Stalling.
Every time I call this man, he grates on my nerves in a way I can’t even express.
I thought I’d give him a quick call in between my meetings to see if he’d had a change of heart. That was an hour ago. While it’s provided a good distraction from the woman I’m still thinking about, I’m supposed to be meeting my brothers now, and I’m late.
Instead of agreeing to sign the fucking contract, Arthur did the usual rehash of the terms and conditions. As if I weren’t the one who created them.
He’s been a prospective client for over a month now, unheard of at Vale Global.
The whole thing is becoming a bruise to my ego. People fight for meetings with me. They don’t drag negotiations out for weeks like they’re doing me a favor.
I have this fucking problem because Arthur was meant to sign with Gio Demarco, the previous head of department. But then Gio retired.
Since I’m taking over next year, I inherited his client portfolio. All prospective clients, except Arthur, signed with me within a week of taking over.
“Everything’s in place,” I cut in, when he pauses for air. “You’ve seen the projections. There’s no reason to hold off, Arthur.”
A low chuckle rumbles down the line. “Now, son,” he begins in his rich Texan accent. “You know good and well I don’t move capital just because numbers look pretty on paper.” The man has a talent for sounding polite while wasting every second of my damn day.
My jaw tightens and I blow out a slow breath. God give me strength.
Here we go again. It’s the same fucking repertoire.
“They don’t just look good,” I inform him in a matter-of-fact tone. “They’re solid. We’ve gone over this multiple times, and I’ve even assured you that you’d be doubling your position within a year.”
“Mm.” He grunts, and a pause follows. I imagine him smoking one of his Cohibas and tipping his head back to blow out a ring of smoke; I shouldn’t know his damn habits.
“Arthur, we need to close this deal now. There is nothing stopping you from signing with me.”
Plan A was always to make him see sense. I only diverted to Plan B—the find a woman plan—when it became clear that Arthur was one of those extenuating circumstances that couldn’t be dealt with in simple terms.
“That’s where you’re wrong, young’un.” He clears his throat, deep and guttural. “I’ve told you before, and I won’t beat about the bush, my problem is you.”
I swivel the pen between my fingers hard enough that it nearly snaps.
“I’m not the issue.” I try not to sound too harsh but know I don’t quite hit the mark.
“For me you are. Ain’t got a thing to do with your skills. Young man like you, moving money that fast, living the way you do… doesn’t exactly scream stability to me.” His tone stays easy, but there’s steel underneath it. “You got no roots, and the papers sure as hell don’t paint you as a saint.”
I let my head drop and slouch against the desk. This is not going well. And I can’t see it changing unless I meet his standards—which I shouldn’t have to.
I lift my head. Looks like we’re back to Plan B.
“The stuff with the papers happened over a year ago.” I cleaned up my playboy image long before that, but the tabloids still like to fuck with me. Always hungry for a story, they label every woman I speak to a bed friend.
Arthur clears his throat again, but it sounds more like he’s trying to stave off a cough. “Be that as it may, son, I ain’t seen nothin’ about you and your new girlfriend.”
There. That’s the lie.
My fictional girlfriend.
I’ve used that lie to keep him tethered to my orbit.
He doesn’t believe me. Can’t blame him there.
He knows men like me don’t settle down easily, and he doesn’t believe I have.
But… part of him hangs on in case it’s true.
From everything he’s said over the last few weeks, I know he’s watching me, and probably investigating.
The man wants to see a girlfriend, someone who looks like she’s long term. Not a fling.
“I’ve told you before, my girl doesn’t like all that attention. She likes her privacy.” That’s understandable and believable to everyone, except him.
“We all like our privacy, but I don’t see nothin’ on her. Not a single picture from any public event you’ve attended in the past year. Your brothers brought their wives, heavily pregnant and all. I reckon they’d like their privacy, too.”
My grip tightens on the phone. The leather chair creaks beneath me as I shift forward, irritation crawling under my skin inch by inch.
“It’s like she don’t exist,” he adds. “From where I’m sitting, it sounds like you’re trying to sell me something I haven’t seen for myself.”
I lean forward, resting my forearms on the desk. “You’re not investing in my personal life. You’re investing in results.”
Silence stretches on the line for a beat too long. I already know what he’s thinking. Men like Arthur don’t separate business from character. To him, the two are welded together. One and the fucking same.
“Son,” he drawls, “those two things tend to go hand in hand where I come from. My empire is built of quality, loyalty, legacy. I can’t trust any ole person with it. I like to know who I’m trusting with my money. And I like to know the kind of life that man’s building.”
“What do you propose we do to make you feel more assured?” I can’t believe I’m asking him that question, but here I am.
“Don’t know yet.”
Oh my God.
“Arthur, it’s been over a month.”
“Don’t rush me, son. I’m still interested, but there’s plenty of other companies I can take my business to if I’m not entirely happy.”
So, fuck off, then.
I wish like hell I could say that and remind him that Vale Global doesn’t need his irritating-as-fuck ass. It’s just that we kind of do.
Not for the money. Because of what it means if he walks away.
People notice when a man like Arthur Lockwood refuses to sign with Vale Global.
Yes, we have a solid multi-billion-dollar empire, but when we start turning away high-profile clients like him, cracks begin to form in our structure.
And it would happen on my watch.
My brothers and I have been working like hell to maintain the trust people have in our brand. My father’s name has carried us for decades. With the change in leadership, we need to preserve what my father built and make it even better.
Besides, Dad would kill my ass if I screwed up this contract. Knowing him, he may even appoint someone else as head of division if he thinks I’m not fit. One thing my old man isn’t known for is taking things easy on his sons.
“Alright, Arthur,” I say finally. “How about we speak another time? Maybe we’ll come to a solution then.” Best to close the loop.
“Sure thing.” Now I can imagine him tipping his head in a Southern gentleman way. “Speak later.”
He hangs up and the line clicks dead, not giving me the chance to set a time for us to follow up.
“Fuck.” I slam the phone down and shake my head.
The silence in the room presses in around me, suddenly stifling. I’ve never come across anything I couldn’t figure out, but it looks like I may have met my match. Arthur Lockwood is giving me a damn run for my money, but I can’t let him railroad me.
My gaze shifts back to the window.
I’ll figure out what I’m doing later. I have to get to that meeting. I’m already half an hour late.
I get up and make my way out of the office.
The corridor outside buzzes with movement. Assistants move between departments, phones ringing in the distance, shoes striking the floors. It’s all loud and busy but not enough to dull the worries in my mind.
When I reach the meeting room, I take a breath before opening the door.
The moment I step in, the energy shifts and my brothers stop talking.
I’m late often, but never for something this important.
“Sorry I’m late, guys.”
Dorian glares at me, chin lifted, expression stern. An empty coffee cup sits beside his laptop, which means I’m later than I thought.
“Where the hell were you?” Dorian barks. “You knew we only had a small window to meet.”
I make my way into the room, pull out a chair beside Locke, and sit.
“I got stuck on a call with Arthur Lockwood.”
As expected, the name drops the temperature in the room by a degree.
Knox rests his hands on the table. His demeanor is calm but sharp. “Where are we now, Levi? Any closer to closing the deal?”
I stifle a groan but meet his gaze head-on, already thinking up a version of the situation that doesn’t make me look weak.
“The man is being difficult. And he’s still demanding to be informed about my personal life in a way no client ever has.”
Locke tilts his head. “What happened to the plan about finding a woman?”
That’s a question I was hoping no one would ask.
“I need to know what’s going on,” he adds. “Whatever happens with this contract affects me, too.”
“It affects all of us,” Knox jumps in.
I lean back in my chair and run a hand through my hair, feeling cornered.
“I’ll take care of it. Lockwood believes I’m seeing someone.”
The moment I say the words, the room shifts.
They’re already looking at me with skeptical eyes.
Now it’s something else. Something worse.
“You mean you lied?”
Dorian straightens, and the way he asks it makes me feel like I’m sixteen again.
“Yes,” I reply. “But I’ll figure it out.” I have to. Failure isn’t really an option in this family. Mistakes get remembered long after victories stop mattering.
“What are you gonna do?” Locke asks, glaring at me.
“Just give me until the weekend to sort something out.”
Knox straightens. “Perhaps I should have a word with him. I’m not in agreement with him insisting on details about your personal life. That shouldn’t matter.”
“It’s not going to work, Knox. And I don’t want you speaking to him. I can handle this myself. He’s a family man. He likes things a certain way. Just leave it with me.”
I nod. “I won’t let you guys down.”
There’s no way I’m going to let them down.
I just have to think of something that doesn’t blow up in my face.
Knox relaxes slightly, though the tension in his shoulders remains.
“Alright. Let’s get back to the discussion. We were talking about the numbers for each division.”
I nod.
Knox moves the discussion along, and soon, talk of strategy fills the room. Numbers glow across his laptop screen at the end of the table while the skyline burns beyond the glass.
I’m listening and thinking. Then a flash of red catches my attention through the glass wall.
I follow it.
Red hair. Great body. Face of an angel.
It’s her again. My butterfly.
She’s walking past the corridor, files in her hands—a stack of documents. She looks focused. Professional. Like nothing between us ever happened.
Meanwhile, I still remember exactly how her body felt under mine.
She stops by a filing cabinet, searching through the drawers.
My gaze lingers until Locke nudges me under the table.
I snap back and find my brothers all watching me again.
I have no idea what was said.
Or if I was asked a question.
“Levi,” Dorian says in that tone again.
“Sorry. I zoned out.”
“No kidding. All you’ve done since that girl walked into the boardroom yesterday is watch her. With the Lockwood situation, now is not the time to be chasing skirts.”
I dip my head. “Of course. I know.”
Knox goes back to talking about a prospective client, but my gaze drifts back to Piper.
I’m not chasing skirts.
That’s not the problem. If this were just about sex, I would’ve forgotten her already.
Besides how can I chase a skirt when she already belongs to me?
What I need is a release. Something to blow off steam.
And I know just the person to help me do that.
My little red-haired butterfly.