CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
NASH
The New York City Department of Buildings was housed in a stately behemoth of a building that both recalled Civil War America and contained all the forward motion in the modern developer world.
It was my current location, as well. Archer and I sat in a small office with fluorescent lighting that hummed like angry bees, no doubt preparing us for an abrasive meeting with the commissioner who oversaw the entire building.
Archer’s work last week at the gala, approaching Commissioner Hayes in person and following up about the unevenly applied standards of his plan examiners and building inspectors, had led to this meeting. The final, formal review of the recent permit revocation.
My knee bounced as we waited for someone—anyone—to come through the door.
“Why does this place feel more like jail than a place of business?” Archer muttered.
“He might plan to interrogate us,” I replied. “You never know.”
“Or waterboard us,” Archer added. He turned and looked me square in the eye. “Would you get waterboarded if it meant they gave us the permit?”
I blinked. “I mean—”
“I need an answer. How committed are you to this project?”
“He’s not going to waterboard us,” I hissed.
“But if he did,” Archer said, “would you take one for the team and get waterboarded? I need to hear you say it.”
“Archer, this is a moot point, I’m not going—”
“When he walks in here with that nozzle,” my ridiculous brother continued, “what is your answer?”
The door suddenly opened and we straightened as though we’d been caught. If anyone was caught doing something, it was Archer being an idiot. He sent me a glare, which I knew conveyed his displeasure that I hadn’t agreed to be waterboarded by the commissioner.
“Gentlemen. Sorry to keep you waiting.” Commissioner Hayes, a heavyset man with dull eyes and an affinity for New York State-themed ties, entered the room. Today’s tie was bright blue with various imprints of the state outline across it.
“No worries at all.” We stood and shook hands with him then settled back into our seats. An empty desk sat between us. “Thanks for taking the time to meet with us today," I added.
"Have you had a chance to take a look at the report we sent?” Archer asked.
Commissioner Hayes interlaced his fingers on the surface of the desk.
“At your request, I had it reviewed by our top examiners once more. It turns out there was some oversight in the initial permit application process. What was deemed a permissible level of environmental impact has actually turned out to be impermissible.”
Commissioner Hayes went on to describe the ways in which his office had accidentally granted permission. By the end of it, the message was clear.
We weren’t getting this permit.
My stomach was a solid brick of anxiety.
“I understand this was a mistake on your office’s part,” I said, “but you have to understand that we have millions of dollars invested in this project based on your office’s approval.”
“We will get sued if we can’t adhere to our timeline,” Archer added, a little less politely than I would have liked.
“Have you truly looked at the files we sent?” I wasn’t above begging.
Hell, I’d get waterboarded at this point.
“The Hudson Heights project. The Manhattan Commons. The renovation of the Hildebrandt Tower. These were all approved within the last eighteen months with the exact same environmental impact ratings. Why was our project singled out?”
Commissioner Hayes shifted uncomfortably and cleared his throat. “Like I said, gentlemen, the office made a premature assessment and then corrected it.”
“You haven’t even given us a path forward,” I said.
“Your office would rather let an entire underutilized tower sit there and deteriorate instead of turning it into the iconic flagship hotel for one of the nation’s most prestigious hoteliers.
A brand that welcomes millions of tourists to New York state every year. ”
Commissioner Hayes drew a tense breath. For a moment, nobody spoke, moved, or blinked.
What the fuck were we supposed to do from here?
“I think it’s time to involve the lawyers,” Archer said in a low voice as he looked my way, though I could tell he meant for Commissioner Hayes to overhear it.
“I think you’re right.” I sighed, adjusting my suit coat.
“Commissioner Hayes, I know you want the best for our city. I’ve long admired your work, and I voted for our mayor.
I cheered when he appointed you to this position.
I’ve been a fan of yours since the beginning, and I know you understand when I say something ain’t right here. ”
Commissioner Hayes spread his hands, palms up. “I can do a personal review. That’s about the only thing left.”
So he hadn’t even looked at it personally before this meeting? I bit my tongue before I could respond, but I could feel the same outrage simmering inside Archer.
“We need a path forward too,” I reminded him.
“Whoever put together this revocation didn’t say anything about why the environmental impact was not up to standards or what remediation is called for.
We need next steps. Gideon Hotels has promised me that they’ll pull out of the city entirely if we can’t get this approval on track. ”
That was a fib. Okay, an outright lie. But I knew that Commissioner Hayes was motivated by the bottom line, like most people in the planning world.
“Like I said, I’ll do a final, thorough review. I’ll see what can be done. I can’t promise much more than that, gentlemen.”
I didn’t like how his words left so many escape routes. It wasn’t concrete enough for me. But Archer was right. We’d hit them with a lawsuit by the end of the day if needed.
“We appreciate your time.” I stood and Archer followed suit, extending our hands. “Hopefully you can have a new decision within forty-eight hours. We’ll plan to proceed with the lawsuit if not.”
Commissioner Hayes led us out of the office, the air tense. We saw ourselves out and didn't speak until we were outside on the street, the noise of downtown Manhattan a welcome relief from that suffocating office.
"That was a fucking disaster," Archer said.
"Yep." I loosened my tie, trying to breathe. "He's stonewalling us."
"More than that. He's lying. You saw his face when you brought up those other projects. He knows they were approved with the same ratings."
I pulled out my phone, scrolling through emails. “Good call on the lawsuit. Let’s get that lined up, because I don’t think he’s going to come back with a different answer. He hadn’t even reviewed this shit himself yet. Fifty million says he doesn’t review it personally even now.”
Archer watched the flow of pedestrian traffic on the sidewalk, his hands on his hips, staying quiet for a few moments. Then he turned to me with the same look he had in his eye when he wanted me to agree to be waterboarded.
“Don’t start with the waterboarding—”
“You remember who we beat out for this bid, right?” He lifted a brow. “Cross Developments.”
“Right.” It had been huge. Major. Nightly Developments was a scrappy rising star in the development world, but we’d never beat out Cross on anything until this project.
“What if that’s why we don’t have a path forward?
” His jaw ticked and I could see the righteous rage clouded his gaze.
“Because they’re going to scoop up the contract with a promise that they’ll be able to get things done.
The exact same environmental impact statement will be rubber stamped without a glance. ”
The thought made my head hurt. The truth was, we’d never had a clash with the Department of Buildings like this before. It made no sense. There was no reason for it, and that alone made me think his theory had merit.
“I almost want it to be true,” I said, “because it would make everything else make sense.”
“Where is Cross going to be next?” Archer asked. “I want to run into him.”
I sighed, abandoning my email to the lawyer. “God, I hate feeling like this man’s groupie.”
“We’re not trying to sleep with him,” Archer clarified. “We’re trying to fuck him. Capital F fuck. There’s a big difference.”
“Depends on who you ask,” I muttered, calling Marina. “But I’ll get you your chance to fuck him. Marina will figure out where we can intercept him next.”
The Urban Development Forum became the new item on our weekly schedule.
Conveniently scheduled for the next evening, it was an industry mixer and networking event at the Mandarin Oriental hotel.
Marina secured tickets for me, Clara, Archer, and Trojan, and we breezed into the event like the seasoned gala professionals we now were.
The late-May air was fragrant and heady, unnaturally warm to the point that I wore my lighter suit coat and Clara only brought a thin shawl for her shoulders.
Thankfully, Mia had made a quick recovery from her stomach virus last week.
Zoey was holding down the fort at my penthouse, where Clara and Mia had been staying most of the time.
She hadn’t officially moved in, but she was damn close.
As we stood in the foyer, checking out the scene and eyeing the bar, I slid my hand over the silky dip in Clara’s waist for maybe the hundredth time since we’d stepped out of the car.
She sent me a coy look and batted her eyelashes. “Something you like down there, sir?”
“You have no idea.” I tugged her closer. “I'm going to spend the whole night imagining taking this dress off you."
Clara giggled, pressing a quick kiss to my lips. “You can do whatever you want with this dress later.”
“Okay, lovebirds.” Archer’s annoyed tone broke through our canoodling. “We have work to do. Please focus.”
I punched Archer in the arm but did as requested. Almost immediately I spotted Sebastian Cross.
“Well, I found Mr. Roboto,” I muttered. I squinted, trying to place who he was standing next to. I could only see their backs, and damn near everyone looked the same from behind with so many suits in attendance.