36. Hayden
Hayden
I t’s not often that I wield the power left to me, but there’s no one else I would rather wield it for.
Sitting behind the oversized mahogany desk in my father’s old office, I stretch my arms forward until the rolled sleeves of my pressed button-down slide up near my elbows.
The weight of the Rolex on my wrist feels unnatural, so do the Italian leather oxfords on my feet.
I look like I’m trying to impersonate Beckett, and he would love it.
“I appreciate you coming down from New York on short notice,” I start graciously. “This is something I would like to wrap up quickly.”
“And you say it’s not related to Thompson Capital?” lawyer number one asks. He’s Walters, of Walters, Rosenberg, and Ryan, and if I had to guess, he is nearing ninety years old.
Their firm is the most elite in the corporate world, often ranking first on The Vault’s top 100.
I brought Walters in when I was still a teenager and wanted to be rid of my father’s in-house legal team.
They clearly couldn’t be trusted. I think Walters took one look at me as a kid and felt pity, and I appreciate him being able to see through the media hype to what was really in front of him—a boy being forced to grow up overnight.
“Not directly at this time,” I reply, sliding the document Poppy relinquished to me across the desk. “I’m hoping to stop this before it reaches Beckett’s business.”
He reaches for it, scanning the opening paragraph and snorting. “Hollywood just can’t stop themselves from trying to drum up drama, can they?”
“What’s this about Hollywood?” lawyer number two asks, leaning over to read the papers as well. As the newest partner, not a named one, he seemed eager to get a peek inside Hill House today, he’s the one I have to put this show on for.
“They are trying to exploit my girlfriend,” I reply coldly. We might not have established what exactly this is between us, but I’ve already viewed Poppy as mine for quite some time. So why not keep it simple for these men that have no place in my personal life?
Walters hums with understanding as he flips to the next page. “Typical scare tactics. We can shred their claims without hardly lifting a finger.”
“I didn’t think they had a case here,” I agree, doing my best to hide the relief coursing through me. Lawyer two falls for my front. Walters doesn’t.
He offers a sympathetic smile, almost like a father-figure would. “Consider this handled. Let Poppy know she’s free and clear of Small Town Table.”
I rise from behind the desk to shake his hand. “Thank you, Walters. I appreciate your timeliness.” Then I turn to lawyer two. “And your discretion,” I add with a subtle undertone of warning.
They both nod as they start towards the door. But before leaving, Walters turns back and adds, “I was surprised that your call didn’t have to do with an acquisition when you mentioned a local business. After the rescue team build, I thought maybe you were starting to buy up this town.”
“Not yet,” I laugh. But his words are slowly untangling something in mind. Something that just might be enough to solve the other problem looming over my girl.
“This has to work,” I mutter.
I’m back in my father’s office, but this time I’m not the one behind the desk. Instead, I’m pacing across the ornate rug as Beckett reads through the freshly drafted contract before him.
“I can’t focus with you acting like this, go do something—maybe catch some waves. I’ll find you when I’m done,” he replies sternly.
Beckett in work mode is a dreadfully serious personality. Sometimes, when he’s like this, I forget that he’s the younger brother I’ve dedicated myself to protect. But the stern version of him is exactly what I need right now, so I do as he says and head outside.
I don’t go down to the beach though. Instead, I drop into the pool and start swimming laps.
My hope is that he’ll be done sooner than he expects, and I’d like to be near when he’s ready.
I cut through the water with a driving force, making it from one end to the other with ease.
Ducking below the surface, I flip and kick off the wall to head back the other way.
With each stroke, I pour all my tense energy into my muscles.
I push them until I can’t go any faster, a familiar strain pulsing through me.
Back and forth, I continue until my body screams. It’s enough to dull my racing thoughts for now.
Drifting to the edge, I throw my arms up on the concrete ledge and let myself hang languidly.
The sun warms my back, lulling me into a relaxed state.
I might not have followed the business track laid out for me, but I retained the knowledge to draw up a solid contract, I know it.
I remind myself of this fact when pristine leather dress shoes step into my line of sight.
Same as the style I was emulating recently.
“It looks good,” Beckett tells me, crouching down to meet my eyes. “You did a nice job with this contract; I wouldn’t change a thing. But do you think she’ll actually go for it?”
I drag my fingers through my hair and shrug. “It’s the only play I’ve got at this point. And honestly, it’s my favorite one thus far, so maybe she’ll feel the same?”
He nods thoughtfully, rubbing his hand across his chin. “I’ve got dinner plans with Stevie. But let me know how it goes.”
“Yeah, will do.”
“Good luck.” He slaps my shoulder and stands once again. “I left it in the office, but I recommend you don’t call her in there to sign it. Meet Poppy on her turf.”
I can just imagine the look on Poppy’s face if I sat down behind the stately mahogany desk and called her into my office.
The fire in her eyes would be enough to burn the whole estate down.
In different circumstances, it would actually be pretty hot.
I make a mental note to work through every room of this house having my way with her.
But that’s only if she still talks to me after tonight.
Pulling myself up from the pool, I grab a towel and wrap it around my waist. This will work , I reason as I dry off. After all, it makes perfect business sense, and it won’t cause her to feel like a charity case. That’s the most important part.
I hate how many years she spent thinking I viewed her in such a way. I’ll spend forever showing her that it was never about pity or a simple afterthought. No, the reality is that she’s the center of every thought, every hope I have for my future.
I check the clock on the oven as I step back into the house. By the time I shower and change, I’ll be getting to the bakery just as she’s closing. Perfect. The bakehouse is the best location for this considering that it’s the subject of the contract.