Chapter Thirteen
Elliot
“Ted Lincoln is on the line, sir.”
I grin. He’s only calling because he’s been defeated. I press the blinking light after grabbing the receiver.
“Mr. Lincoln. So nice to hear from you.”
“Yeah, yeah,” he grumbles. “Congratulations, Elliot. Your charm has won out once again.”
“We both know it isn’t just my charm, Tim. I’m good at what I do.”
I lean back in my chair, staring out the windows.
“Yeah—lying to people.”
“Oh, don’t be like that. This isn’t college. We’re adults.”
My tone is cheery, hiding the annoyance I have toward him not letting this go.
“Someone will be in contact with all the info.”
“I look forward to it.” I drop the phone to the cradle, grinning like a mad man. I’m not one to go out and celebrate, but I will today. I’ve been wanting this job for months. Picking up the phone, I dial Peter’s extension.
“Get the team together, we’re celebrating,” I say when he answers.
“We got it?” he asks, excitement tinging his voice. Of course, I already knew this, but I was waiting for it to be official before announcing it.
I wait long enough to build anticipation, then say, “We got it.”
He makes a loud whooping sound, then claps his hands. I can’t help but chuckle.
“See you downstairs in ten,” he says, then ends the call.
I organize my things, leaving my work stuff behind for the night. On my way out, I let Michelle know to cancel everything for the rest of the day. She agrees, and I’m out the door, heading to the bottom floor to wait for my team.
I look through emails as I wait for them and know the moment they’re off the elevator by how loud they are.
My team is comprised of eight people, including me, and together, we make my company run smoothly.
Peter, my COO, and Jim, my CFO, have been with me the longest, hence why they’re my two right-hand men.
They work directly beneath me, and we meet regularly.
Ian, Charlie, and Jonathan report to Peter, as they handle the on-site stuff.
Then we have Jack, who is the head of our legal team.
He isn’t with the guys today, but I wouldn’t expect him to be.
Though he is part of my team, he is sort of kept separate.
Besides, hanging out with our legal guy on a night we’re going to potentially do things that are illegal is a bad idea.
Riley, who is head of marketing, would normally be with us, but he’s been out a few weeks now since his wife just had a baby.
I’m sure one of the guys has already called him to tell him the good news.
We hardly celebrate together like this, only when it’s a special occasion, and this is certainly a special occasion. We’ve been trying to get this project for months, and my team has worked their asses off to make it happen. They deserve it.
“So, what’s going on?” Charlie asks with open arms as he walks toward me, the rest of the guys grinning behind him.
“Yeah, what’s the occasion? Pete won’t tell us a thing,” Ian adds.
I smirk as they reach me. I look at them, one by one, trying to drag out the anticipation.
“We got Vista Plaza,” I say simply.
Their eyes widen at the same time, then they explode in excitement and celebration.
Claps on the backs, hugs, whooping. It isn’t missed by those walking by, and I can’t help but revel in their joy and be proud of them for what they’ve done.
I’ve got a good group here, all men who are young and full of life.
They’re going places, and this project is really going to reflect that.
“Let’s go celebrate, guys,” Peter says with an eye roll, patting Jim on the shoulder and moving toward the front doors.
The security guard chuckles at us as we go, and I tip my head at him as we walk past.
“I’ve got the Uber,” Ian calls out, raising his arm in the air and waving it as he taps away on his phone with the other hand.
It arrives within ten minutes, and we’re on our way to one of my bars across town.
The sun is high in the sky, and I plan on drinking until the sky is dark, the sun replaced by the moon.
It’s dinner time, but the only thing on the menu is whiskey.
I’ve lost track of how much we’ve drank, but it’s been a lot.
Everyone has lost their jackets and ties.
Some even have their button-downs off, draped over the back of their chairs.
Their undershirts are untucked, hair messed up.
We’re laughing and enjoying the day, telling everyone who walks by what we’re here celebrating.
It’s fun to watch, to be a part of. And though I don’t feel the need to join in with the shouting and sharing, I am glad to be here.
Not just here in the bar with these men who helped me get where I am, but here at all. With my company, my life.
When I was a young boy, I never thought this would be possible.
I thought poverty was all I would ever know.
I was constantly told I would amount to nothing because I came from nothing.
Though my parents were loving, they were weak-minded and unmotivated.
They accepted what they were given in life, even though they weren’t happy with it.
That isn’t what I wanted to do with my life. So, I chose to do something else.
Now I’m here, celebrating with my team in a bar I own, one they oversaw the making of.
I’m going to be a legacy in this city. My buildings will stand long after I do, and something about that brings me happiness beyond belief.
And the fact I could give my parents what they couldn’t give me is a wonderful gift.
They are well taken care of, living in a retirement home in Florida, forever grateful for what I’ve done for them.
It’s satisfying in ways I can’t describe.
My life is good. Yet every time a girl with dark hair walks in or walks by, I wish it was her.
I can’t stop thinking about her.
My mind is torn, it has been for days now. One part is focused on the task at hand, while the other part lingers on her. Always her.
Why is she driving me insane? Why can’t I stop thinking about her?
It’s been a week since I sent the contract to her, and I haven’t gotten a response other than an email letting me know she received it and would look it over.
I wrote that up myself, had Jack look it over, then sent it.
No one else needs to know about this. The position isn’t even a real position, it’s something I made up for her.
Hell, I don’t even know what I plan to have her do once she starts.
Dry cleaning? That’s beneath her. Grocery shopping?
She isn’t a maid. I have Michelle, who is already trained in all I need in the office, but perhaps I could give her a promotion with a raise, and mention slight job changes? That could work. I’ll make it work.
I tap the table beside my phone, itching to pick it up and call Seraphine. Make sure she’s okay. Hear her voice. I told her to take time and deal with her tragedies, and I do want that. But now that it’s been so long since I spoke with her, saw her, I don’t like it. I don’t like it one goddamn bit.
“Come on, boss man! Let’s do another shot,” Charlie says, gesturing to the bartender.
She comes over right away, and he orders a round of shots.
There’s one shoved into my hand a moment later, and then I’m tipping my head back, the alcohol sliding down my throat with ease.
The moment the glass is on the countertop, I’m reaching for my phone and getting to my feet, mind made up.
“I’ll be right back,” I say.
“No work tonight!” Ian calls, throwing his hands up.
He’s too outgoing for my liking, but it makes him good at his job. He’s a people person. Has that boyish smile that everyone trusts. It’s good for making deals.
“Not work,” I say as I walk by him, heading for the front door.
The phone is already calling her before I’m outside. Once I step onto the sidewalk, I’m taken aback by the bright sun. It makes me chuckle. I’d thought it would at least be nightfall by now, but I guess that’s what happens when you’re in a dark cavern of a bar, drinking the only thing on your mind.
Well, sort of the only thing.
“Mr. Caldwell,” she answers softly.
Hearing her voice has the tension leaving my shoulders. Nowhere near how her hands did, when working their magic on my body, but it’s second best.
“Seraphine, how are you?”
“Is something wrong?”
“No, of course not. I wanted to check on you.”
“Oh. Um, I’m fine.”
I chuckle. “I’m old enough to know that means you’re not fine.”
There’s silence on the other end of the phone, and I wonder if it wasn’t time for a joke, no matter how minor it was.
“I guess I’m not,” she finally says, and I feel relief for a second before her words sink in, and I realize she’s not okay.
“What can I do?” I ask, leaning against the brick wall and looking out at the busy road. My gaze turns in the direction of her building. Not that I can see it from here. There are just too many damn buildings in the way.
“You don’t have to do anything. You’ve done enough.”
“I want to do more. Anything. Whatever I can.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know,” I admit, shaking my head. “I truly do not know; I only know that I want to. I don’t like seeing you hurting, and I want to fix it.”
“You’re my boss,” she whispers.
“Yes.”
“You’re… my ex-boyfriend’s father.”
I sigh, closing my eyes. “Yes.”
It’s silent for a beat, then another and another. Until she finally speaks, saying the exact words I wanted to hear.
“Can you come over?”