Chapter 18
The morning sun slanted across her desk, catching on stacks of research files, printouts of blueprints, and a half-drunk cup of coffee she’d reheated twice already. It wasn’t even lunchtime, and she’d fielded five calls.
“Are you sure the historic district committee is on board?”
“Why modernize instead of restoring to the original design?”
“Is the developer still aligned with your direction?”
She knew exactly where the renewed scrutiny was coming from, but every time another voice questioned her judgement it was like she was a novice intern who’d just got their first job. The knot in her stomach tightened.
She closed her eyes and exhaled. It had been a trying day already. There were vendor issues with materials that may or may not be available. She was trying to do her actual job, but now she had to answer to any and everyone who now questioned her design of the Artisan Avenue.
The phone on her desk rang. She eyed it. The call hadn’t been forwarded from her secretary. It was on her private backline.
“Hello?” she answered.
“Is this Ms. Winston?” a voice asked.
“This is,” Tachina replied. She rolled her eyes and already sensed what this call was going to be about.
“Morning. This is Stephany from Channel 8 News. I have a few questions I want to ask you.”
“This is not the time—”
“Critics are expressing concerns that the Artisan Avenue project may be damaging the region’s cultural footprint,” the woman said with the falsely warm tone of someone spreading gossip. “Do you believe the modernization plans are respectful to the legacy of the district?”
“Yes,” she answered, carefully and upbeat.
If she was going to be forced to answer the questions, then she would, but it wouldn’t stop her from wanting to punch a wall—or someone.
“Absolutely. We aren’t destroying a legacy.
We are evolving it. Preserving history doesn’t require freezing a building in time.
The district deserves to breathe, to expand with the city that is growing around it.
This should be celebrated not fossilized. ”
Tachina bit back the part that the building was not considered a historical monument. It was just an old building in a part of town that was now in the hands of developers. If they cared so much about this building before when it was crumbling, why hadn’t they done something about it?
But she wasn’t going to say that. When it came to reporters, anything she said and did would be plastered all over the media. Hence why she hadn’t hung up on good ol’ Stephany from Channel 8 News.
Stephany was a pro and tried to circle back.
She poked for soft spots, but Tachina was not new to this.
She knew how to handle the media. Unfortunately, it was a part of her job.
One would think as the architectural designer, she would be locked away in her office or studio or even on a construction site where no one knew who she was.
But that was not the case. With projects such as this, people wanted to know who the designer was. Her name was attached to this. According to the media, the public had a right to know.
“Some community members are worried that the aggressive designs are profit-driven rather than community centered. Can you speak to who influenced these changes?”
She recognized the trap. Aggressive. Profit-driven. It was a dog whistle for the developer—Vic and his company.
Tachina wasn’t going to fall for it.
“The developers trust our firm. They trust me, and the community will benefit from the addition of homes to help combat the housing shortage and added commerce which means jobs and accessibility the vision will bring. We’re building something for everyone.”
“Thank you for your time, Ms. Winston,” the reporter said. “We will be following this closely.”
Translation—we are stirring the gossip pot.
“I’m sure you will, and I thank you for highlighting our project to the public.
” Tachina hung up before she could say anything else.
She stared at her phone like it had personally insulted her.
How had Stephany got her backline? That wasn’t given out to anyone.
Even her family just called her on her cellphone.
Her vision for the Artisan Avenue wasn’t reckless.
Nor was it careless. She believed in it.
She’d poured years of research in this type of design and now she’d finally got the chance.
This project was her career’s breakout masterpiece.
Once this was completed, there was no telling who she’d be designing for.
She could see herself going around the world and putting her stamp in other countries.
That would be amazing.
A quick knock sounded on her door. She bid whoever it was to come in. The door opened, and her boss waltzed in. Theo Goodman was a gentleman in his early sixties, and at the moment, he had an expression of frustration.
Her muscles automatically tensed.
This man had been her mentor since she’d graduated and had been as much a father figure as a boss.
“Busy morning?” he asked, though he clearly already knew the answer.
“You could say that,” she huffed.
He closed the door behind him. That said plenty.
“I’ve gotten some calls,” he said simply. He walked across the room and took a seat in the chair across from her desk.
Her stomach dropped, but his expression wasn’t angry.
He tilted his head to the side while he studied her. “You haven’t made any changes that I’m unaware of on the Artisan, correct?”
“No.” She frowned and crossed her legs. This was a weird question.
If anything changed, he would have been notified immediately.
“The plan hasn’t changed since last month.
We’re moving on to the official renovation phase.
Demolition was completed. The brickwork and scaling beams will start next week. We are on target.”
“I trust you, Tachina. You know that.” He nodded slowly and blew out a deep breath. “The developers will, too. We’ve spent too much to backpedal based on gossip.”
“Thank you, sir.” She let out a breath. She should have known he would have her back. He had always stood beside her with every project he’d put her in charge of. “That means a lot to me.”
“I’m not sure who is trying to derail this project and years of good work. Whoever it is won’t succeed. You’ve earned this, Tachina. This will put not only you on the map but our studio as well. You have our full support.” He stood and gave her a small wave.
He walked out of the room, and when the door closed behind him, she sagged into her chair.
Whoever it is.
She wished she didn’t know. She wished she could pretend ignorance.
She snagged her cellphone and clicked on the notifications for one of her social media platforms. Immediately, she wished she hadn’t.
Articles popped up left and right. There were blogs mimicking legitimate news sources with one of them featuring a video titled: Artisan Avenue Modernization: A Preservation Nightmare?
And right there in the thumbnail preview sat a very familiar blonde female.
Sydney Bridges.
Her hair was curled, her makeup pristine, and her smile sharp like a blade.
Tachina clicked on the video.
Sydney spoke with practiced concern. Her expression showed her worry, and her voice dripped with honey. All of it false. Tachina read right through the act.
“Victor Maxwell is a dedicated father and a valued member of our community. He’s very overwhelmed with two large projects, one here and one in Houston. He’s tirelessly committed to his job and raising his son. I’ve simply helped out where I can.”
She what?
As if Tachina wasn’t alive and well while co-parenting with Vic.
“Rumors suggest the developers are pushing a dramatic modernization that threatens historical value of the area. Are you aware of his stance?” the interviewer asked.
Sydney clasped her hands sweetly and nodded. Tachina rolled her eyes at the woman’s acting. She deserved an Emmy or an Oscar for this performance. It was a wonder the woman hadn’t gone out to Hollywood.
“Victor wants what’s best for the city. I just hope the people around him aren’t pushing him into a decision he might later regret. We’ve been…reconnecting. Working through some things. I support him fully.”
“This bitch.” Tachina paused the video and had to look away from the image of Vic’s ex. How dare she? She was about to scroll away from the footage, but she figured she’d better hear what else she had to say.
“Well, good luck to you both.” The interviewer smiled.
Sydney’s gaze turned directly to the camera where she offered an award-winning smile. “Thank you. I believe things will work out as they should.”
The implied ‘we’re getting back together’ gave Tachina a bad taste in her mouth. Was the woman delusional? Vic spent most of his free time with Tachina.
Or the ‘Tachina is using him’ cut her deep, but she knew that to be far from the truth.
“Oh, this woman is hellbent on getting stomped into the ground,” Tachina muttered. She was never one to resort to violence, but when the situation called for it, she’d show up with her bitch-stomping boots on.
Before she could think twice, she flipped her screen to contacts and hit Vic’s number.
He answered on the first ring.
“Hey, baby,” he said. “You miss me so much you couldn’t wait until tonight?”
“That bitch went on camera insinuating we’re taking advantage of you.
She’s talking like you two are getting back together.
What the fuck!” She was breathing hard. She stood and paced behind her desk.
All work was now officially forgotten. Hell, she had a mind to leave and go find the blonde-haired hussy right now.
“She’s playing philanthropist saint and dragging me publicly with fucking rumors and implying I’m… I’m…”
“Breathe,” Vic said, calm.
“Don’t tell me to breathe. I’m already doing that. She’s—”
“Tachina.”
Just her name. Firm. Gentle. Commanding enough to quiet her racing pulse.
She paused by the window. She looked out and took in the park with all of its beauty. Trees with their multicolored leaves proving that it was autumn. People were out walking their dogs. The sun was high. Immediately, she dropped her hand to her stomach.
“I will handle it,” he continued. His voice hardened like steel. “Do not worry. Don’t speak with any more reporters. If they call, direct them to my office. Don’t respond to emails. Don’t stress yourself out over her. She just wants to be relevant and wants attention on her.”
“She’s making me look like some greedy puppet. My clients are getting nervous and have started to doubt me. My boss just came asking about the project. Reporters have already been calling. She’s making you look like—”
“Let me guess. A single father getting manipulated,” he finished. “Yes. I’ve seen it. She’s not hurting me. She’s exposing herself. Let her talk all she wants.”
Tachina slowly rubbed her belly. She was overwhelmed but she was listening to him. She took a deep breath.
“Most importantly,” his voice grew gentle, “I don’t want you upset. That can’t be good for the baby or you.”
Her anger deflated even more at the mention of the baby.
She glanced down and took in her hand protectively covering her belly.
It was still slightly pudgy as it always had been.
If this pregnancy was anything like Kian’s, her belly was going to get massive.
Kian had been a large baby, and she suspected this one would be just like their big brother.
“I made my appointment,” she said. She was shocked she was able to get in so soon. There just so happened to be a cancellation a few minutes before she’d called and they’d slid her into the slot.
“When?”
“Next Thursday morning.”
“Text me the details. I’ll have Eliza move my schedule around that day. I won’t miss it.” He’d said it so matter-of-factly that her heart skipped a beat. He was fully committed to this pregnancy.
“What about tonight?” she asked. “Are you flying home?”
With the issues in Houston, he had been flying back and forth almost every other day. Yesterday he had gone to Houston and stayed the night. The man was going to run himself into the ground. She tried to be supportive of him and help him relax the minute he came home.
“I’m already here. I got back an hour ago,” he said. “Tony’s preparing dinner. Alissa’s getting Kian today and will stay with him until we get home. Don’t worry about packing anything. I’ve got clothes for you already there. Just come. Let me take care of everything.”
Her eyes stung unexpectedly, and for some reason the room became blurry. She blinked a few times to clear the tears that threatened to spill.
In just a few moments, the man had calmed her anger, comforted her, protected her, and provided for her. She flopped down in her chair and exhaled. All of the tension flowed from her body.
“Okay,” she whispered. She fingered her skirt and smirked. “Why do you have clothes for me already?”
He barked a laugh.
“Why do you need to keep packing things when you can just have stuff already there? It’s nothing crazy. A few of those leggings you like, t-shirts, and other stuff.”
“And who went shopping for me?”
“Don’t worry about it. Just know that I’m here for you. Okay?”
“Okay.” She could feel his smile through the phone. At that moment, she wanted nothing but to fall into his arms and have him hold her. She wanted to inhale his familiar scent.
“And we are still on for the mayor’s dinner?” he asked.
Tachina was a little nervous about this. It was a dinner event where she would be presenting updates and designs to the mayor and the city council. It would be the first time they had ever stepped out together…as a couple.
“Of course,” she whispered.
“Fantastic.”
Three words balanced on the end of her tongue, but she held back.
She was no longer falling for Victor Maxwell.
It was official, she was utterly and absolutely in love with him.
“I’ll see you tonight,” he promised.