Chapter 2
HOLDEN
I’d given this same opening lecture every semester for the past five years. At this point, I could do it backward and blindfolded. It was the usual academic foreplay of explaining some of the basic concepts, general admin, and what I expected from them while they were taking this class.
Tonight, however, the words refused to come out in the right order, getting jumbled on my tongue even though this had become second nature to me. And it was all because my eyes kept drifting to the girl in back row.
She’d been flushed and breathless when she’d appeared, her cheeks glowing and her vibrant red hair windblown, wearing a T-shirt that was so rumpled it had to be intentional.
Maybe that was a new style thing. I struggled to keep up with the trends these days, but if that was the new thing, then none of the kids who followed it—including her—would make it very far in the business world.
Despite that, no matter how hard I tried to focus on the syllabus in my hands, I kept glancing back at her. She was half-hiding behind her hair, slouched low in her chair, clearly wishing she could disappear. Which, of course, had the opposite effect.
I forced my attention to the rest of the class and explained a few basic principles of business models, but the words felt mechanical, like I was reading off cue cards in a language I barely understood.
Normally, this opening-day lecture was easy. Familiar. It was supposed to be grounding and predictable, but tonight, that predictability had gone straight to hell.
Every time I looked her way, my concentration slipped another notch. The frog shirt looked like it had lost a wrestling match with a dryer, and I was really struggling to figure out if it was some kind of ironic fashion statement or if she’d just had a really bad day.
After my initial intro was finally done, I passed out the syllabi and tried to get my shit together. As gorgeous as the redhead was, I had a job to do and I wasn’t about to let some cute little homeless-looking woman derail me.
The rest of the class blurred by in a mess of slides, questions, and polite nods. When I finally dismissed them, I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. Students packed up and filtered out, chatting in low voices as they went.
I gathered my notes, stacked them neatly, and told myself whatever weird distraction that had been, it would be gone by next week.
Except, when I looked up, she was still there.
She hesitated by the door but then seemed to decide against bolting and walked up to my desk instead, clutching the strap of her bag like it was armor.
“I’m sorry,” she said without preamble. “I didn’t mean to be late.”
“It’s not me you have to apologize to.” I pushed my sleeves further up my forearms and back into place near my elbows.
Her eyes, electric and green, darted down to them and back up, and her cheeks flushed a pretty pink hue.
She had no business being this adorable in a shirt that horrendous.
“Apologize to yourself. You’re paying good money for this class.
You’re only robbing yourself when you’re late. ”
She blinked and looked away, past me at the white board behind my back scribbled with notes. “I’ll do my best not to be late again.”
“We’ll see,” I said.
“I didn’t do it on purpose.” Her voice had an edge and she seemed to notice. She licked her lips and brought her green stare back to meet my eyes, and when she spoke again, her voice was softer. “I suppose nobody does.”
“I have some more advice, but I worry you’re going to take it the wrong way.”
Fuck, Holden. What the hell are you doing?
Her reddish eyebrows lifted and that pretty face tilted up ever so slightly, open to what I might have to say. But her eyes remained guarded. “When you start like that, you’re probably right.”
“There’s technically no dress code for class but—”
“Oh, here we go.”
I sighed. “See? I knew you were going to get upset. You don’t even know what I’m going to say.”
“Fine.” She crossed her arms, chin tilted up in a kind of unspoken challenge. “Go ahead.”
I held back an amused smile. “Some of the people in this class could end up being your colleagues one day. You might have to negotiate deals with them. Part of being successful is looking successful. And this?” I gestured at all of her. “Nothing about this screams successful.”
Her mouth opened, then snapped shut, then opened again.
The delicious pink flush deepened and spread from her cheeks to her neck, accentuating the few freckles splashed across the bridge of her nose, but I realized I’d hit a nerve when her nostrils flared and the elegant curve of her throat worked like she was actively holding back an insult of her very own.
Why did I want to hear what she was thinking so bad?
“Right,” she said stiffly after a brief pause. “Well, thanks for the tip, Professor.”
Those eyes held mine for one more beat. Then she turned and walked out, her shoulders tight and pace clipped, like she couldn’t get away fast enough. I stood there for a moment, staring at the door after it closed behind her.
Smooth, Holden. So smooth. Nothing like casually insulting your students’ wardrobes to make a stellar first impression.
Finally alone, I rubbed the back of my neck and sighed. I hadn’t meant it the way it’d sounded. I’d just wanted to help, but that had been the best my socially inept subconscious had been able to come up with on the spot.
God, and to think that I used to have game. A lot of it. Looks like Shannon might’ve gotten that in the settlement too. For fuck’s sake.
After the divorce, I’d needed something different. Something that wasn’t boardrooms, investors, or never-ending project deadlines. Teaching had become that something.
Eventually, I’d taken a step back from my company, mostly only going into the office for half-days now, unless there was a major impending disaster and the world was ending.
The rest of my time, I spent here. Not for the money.
God knew, I didn’t need it, and if I did, this wouldn’t have been the place to make it.
I taught because I loved it. Watching ideas click.
Seeing people light up when they understood something new.
Now I was wondering if perhaps I’d let my social abilities slide a little too far while being so focused on my day and night jobs.
Hastily packing up the rest of my things, I swore to myself that I would leave it alone. It was best to put that beautiful woman, my student, out of my head and get back to my own life.
If only it were that easy. Her angelic face consumed my thoughts for the rest of the evening and followed me to bed, where I didn’t push them away.
By the next morning, the events of the previous night and the girl with red hair in my dreams felt like they belonged to a different universe.
Everything made sense again as I sat in my office atop the city, the New York skyline spreading out beyond my floor-to-ceiling windows and wintery sunlight filtering in.
I sat across from Jimmy Corrigan, my VP at Langton Development and occasional pain in my ass. He glanced up at me after spreading the new renderings of our Renewal Initiative project across the conference table.
“Alright,” he said. “We just got these back yesterday, but I was waiting for you to get in to look them over. What do you think? The architects told me that they managed to incorporate all those changes you wanted made to the plans.”
I leaned over, carefully studying the latest effort. The design gleamed with sleek glass buildings, plenty of open space, and the kind of symmetry that spoke of progress and money. That was what the Renewal Initiative was all about, taking the old and making it new.
“Walk me through the changes,” I said, turning my wrist to glance at my watch. “We’ve got about twenty minutes to hammer this out before my next meeting.”
“Right. Let’s do it,” he agreed without arguing. Jimmy had tried to talk me out of taking so much time away from the office, but eventually, he’d learned to accept it. These days, we both knew how to maximize the time I was here.
Diving in without further ado, he started from the top, just the way I liked it.
“The brief we gave them was to design a luxury, mixed-use complex spanning several blocks on the Upper East Side. We wanted two towers, one high-end residential and one commercial, a ground-floor retail plaza, and a Heritage Walk meant to honor the old shops that used to be in that area.”
“It’s not just meant to honor those old shops. It will honor them. It’s a public space dedicated to the history of the community. We’re revitalizing the neighborhood, not erasing it.”
Jimmy gave me a look that was half skeptical and half amused. “Right, and the fact that every heritage shop is being replaced by designer brands is purely coincidental.”
I leaned back in my chair. “Progress isn’t painless, but at least we’ve incorporated the old with the new, right? We’re honoring where this area came from while taking it into the future.”
He snorted. “Tell that to the guy whose family has been running a corner bakery there for the last fifty years.”
I groaned. “I get that and I’m not stupid.
I know the community is going to fight me on this, but eventually, they’ll get onboard.
Property values will go up, the infrastructure will improve, and new jobs will be created.
This is going to be amazing for them. Everyone will benefit, and as soon as that sinks in, they’ll stop resisting. ”
“I don’t think it’ll be that simple, Holden,” he said.
“Either way, you wanted the plaza to connect the two towers, which has been done, and you wanted more green space. We can’t really have full-sized parks since the space we’ve got earmarked won’t allow it, but they’ve built in as much greenery as they can.
Think square-foot gardening and loads of trees lining the walk. ”
I nodded slowly, looking over the changes with a critical eye.
This project was going to be my legacy. Not just another tower with my name on it but something lasting.
Something I was going to do for the city I loved that would become something it could be proud of. Everything about it had to be perfect.
Once I sat back again, he arched an eyebrow at me. “The board meeting?”
“We’re ready. Schedule it,” I said. “I want the directors to sign off on this before the end of the month. Once they do, we’ll go public with the announcement.”
“Consider it done.” Jimmy made a note on his tablet, then looked up at me with that sly grin he got when he was about to remind me of something inconvenient. “You have that wedding in two weeks. I set an alert to remind you.”
I frowned. “I thought that was optional.”
“It’s not,” he said. “You RSVP’d and it’s the owner of the construction company we’re going to be working with on the Renewal Initiative. Bail on him now and you can bet that the quotes they’ve sent to get the job done will double.”
I sighed, rubbing the bridge of my nose. “Jimmy—”
“It’s good optics. You congratulate the guy, shake hands, and make nice. You want the board to see you’re invested, right?”
I knew he was right. I just hated to admit it. “Fine, I’ll go.”
“Good.” He paused, clearly gearing up for something else. “Just a heads-up. Uh, Shannon’s going to be there.”
My stomach tightened. “You’re joking.”
“I wish I was.”
Of course she’s going to be there. My ex had a knack for turning up where I least wanted her and I’d been lucky to avoid her the last few years. It was never going to last forever, but the idea of smiling politely at her across a dinner table made my teeth ache.
“Do you want my advice?” Jimmy smirked. “Bring a date.”
“What?”
“Bring a date,” he repeated, slowly and patiently like he was explaining to a child how to use a spoon. “Make sure it’s someone hot. It’ll look like you’re living your best life and Shannon will leave you the hell alone.”
I let out a humorless laugh. “Maybe you’re right, but who the hell would I ask?”
“Come on, Holden. You’ve got, what, half the city in your phone? Just pick one.”
I grimaced. If I took one of my booty calls to a wedding, I would be asking for trouble. “Any of those women would expect a ring by dessert if I take them to a wedding like that, and I’m done with romance, so no thanks.”
“Who said anything about romance?” Jimmy grinned. “If that’s what you’re worried about, then the answer is simple. Take someone who hates you.”
Before I could tell him that first, no one hated me, and second, they would never accept an invitation from me if they did, Jimmy was gone. My door clicked shut behind him and I groaned, turning in my chair to face the wall of windows.
New York City glistened outside, bursting with possibility and opportunity.
How many women lived in this city? Surely, I could find someone willing to be on my arm as my date for this cursed wedding.
Someone pretty enough to piss off Shannon and intelligent enough to play the part well, without expecting a relationship from me.
I just had to find her.