Chapter 16
Chapter Sixteen
Holt
Blaire: No worries. I get it.
Blaire’s text sits on my phone. The words are clear. Concise. She understands that a meeting changed my plans because it happens to her all the time too.
Right?
I blow out a breath and grip the back of my neck. The muscles are taut and in need of a deep massage—something more than my also-tense palm can provide.
Oliver rattles on across my office, going into depth about the Landry deal and things I should be considering. He’s done his homework, thank God. It makes me a little less worried about my failure to listen.
I should’ve called her.
As I glance up at my brother, I realize that opportunity has passed. I can’t call her. Not now. Not with Rosie walking in any second to tell us that Graham Landry is in the conference room for our second meeting today.
Why didn’t I call her?
I cringe.
The answer to this question isn’t as clear as her response to me. I don’t know why I didn’t call her. Maybe I didn’t think it would matter. I definitely didn’t think her response would bother me a half hour later.
That’s the problem with texts. You can’t read someone’s tone.
And this is why I don’t do this kind of thing with women. It takes up too much damn time—time I need to be spending on other shit.
But before I can sort through it, Oliver’s gaze meets mine. He lifts a brow, silently chastising me but also throwing a bit of concern my way.
I get it. For sure. I don’t mentally check out—especially when the topic at hand is worth hundreds of millions of dollars. He must think I’ve lost my fucking mind.
But I haven’t. I’m still here. Just … distracted.
Really fucking distracted.
Is Blaire pissed? Does she think I’m blowing her off? Does she think my whole let-me-show-you-around-Savannah line was a lie to get her to stay with me?
Fuck.
“I know,” I tell my brother, dropping my hand. “I’m sorry. Go on.”
He furrows his brow like our father does when he’s trying to decide whether to ask Coy about something he allegedly has done or not.
“I’m fine,” I insist. “Everything is fine.”
“I hope so. We’ve been working on this deal for months. I’d hate to blow it now.”
“We are not going to blow it.” I narrow my eyes as I tap the side button on my phone to turn off my screen. “Now, what were you saying?”
He lets his eyes linger on me a second too long before he looks back down. It’s a subtle warning to shape up or ship out—something Gramps used to say. I wish I could tell him to mind his own business.
But this is his business. It’s the Mason family’s business. We all depend on it, and we all depend on me to steer the ship in the first place.
And steer it I will because the only other option is failure. And if there is one thing in my life I can never do, it’s look my father in the face and tell him I let him down. I won’t lose everything our family has worked for over generations.
I refuse.
I clear my throat and adjust my tie. “You were saying that you were talking to Boone …”
“Right.” He clears his throat and settles back in. “So Boone brought up the potential that Landry will want a future stake in the project. What if he wants first right of refusal for occupancy?”
“The Landrys aren’t into retail. Or hotels.”
“No, but they like money. And there’s a lot of money to be made here.”
I look at the ceiling and absorb his point. Because, again, the fucker is right. Or Boone is right. And that’s even more confusing.
“Boone thought of this?” I ask.
Oliver laughs. “Yup.”
“Huh. Maybe he’s decided to be a grown-up, after all.”
“I wouldn’t bet on it. Mom found out that he’s been charging her credit card for his video game subscriptions for a year.”
My head levels, and I look at my brother. “Are you kidding me?”
“Could I make that up?”
I shake my head. “Well, the gamer has a point, I guess. Landry could counter us with that. How do you feel about it?”
“Well, I—”
A buzz from my desk phone cuts off Oliver.
“Holten?” Rosie calls.
“Yes.”
“Larissa is here to see you.”
I head to my desk. “Send her in.”
Our cousin knocks once before opening the door. Her blond curls bounce as she enters. It’s one of the only traits she got from her mother. The rest of her is Mason through and through with her green eyes and tan skin that she inherited from my uncle Howard.
She gives Oliver a one-armed hug from behind before setting her sights on me.
“Hey, Holtie,” she sing-songs.
“When did you start having Rosie buzz you in?”
She comes to the front of my desk and plops down in one of the leather chairs. “Since you guys almost fired her and now she acts like she has to treat this place like Fort Knox.”
“We didn’t almost fire her,” I say, looking over her head at Oliver. “We were …”
“Moving her,” Oliver says.
I nod. “We were moving her to Wade’s office.”
“Well, news alert—Rosie doesn’t want to work for Wade. She wants to work for you guys.”
“She’d love Wade. Eventually,” Oliver jokes.
I laugh again. “What brought you here? Don’t you have class today?”
“You do know I have a father who’s perfectly capable of interrogating me, don’t you?”
“I do. But I thought I’d ask in case he’s slipping.”
It’s her smile that makes my stomach twist. Her lips part, foreshadowing mischief.
She scoots around in her chair before finally sitting on the edge and gripping her armrest with both hands. Her nose wrinkles.
“I’m glad we’re asking questions today,” she pokes. “Because I have one for you.”
“Don’t. Please don’t,” Oliver whines. “We have a … thing to do … and …” He sighs, falling back in his chair. “Please just let me keep him focused.”
Larissa looks satisfied. “Well, even though that didn’t come from you, and I didn’t ask my question, I think it answers it.”
Ignoring the glare from Oliver is harder than it should be.
I tuck my tie into my jacket and sit across from Larissa. I ignore her eyes too.
“So …” She prods. “The fam is saying a real live woman is at your house.”
“Thanks, Oliver,” I say, blowing out a breath.
“Oliver?” Larissa looks over her shoulder at my brother before turning back to me. “Wade told me.”
“Wade?” I must look surprised because Larissa laughs. “Wade told you?”
“I mean, he wasn’t celebrating it or anything. Actually, he said you were a … fool, I think was the word he chose. I’m just excited that it’s true.”
I dig around in my desk and find the envelope Larissa came for. Hopefully, she’ll take it and leave.
“Well, you need to settle down a little bit because it isn’t nearly as exciting as you’re making it out to be,” I say, giving her the package.
Her eyes light up as she takes it from me.
“I think the fact that Wade, of all people, brought it up means that it’s a little more exciting than just some ditz you’re bringing to an event,” she says.
I rock back in my chair. “I bring those ditzes, as you so affectionately call them, with me to places oftentimes as a favor. Someone needed a ticket to something or wanted to network a little bit. I’m not bringing them for me.”
“He picks the ones for him up at airports these days,” Oliver chimes in.
“That’s enough from the back of the room,” I say.
He laughs. “He met this girl at an airport, Riss.”
Larissa’s face breaks into a wide smile. “It’s like a movie!”
“It’s not,” I say with just as much gusto. “It’s a woman I met who can’t go home for a few days because her apartment is being renovated. And I offered my home out of kindness.”
She gets to her feet and tucks the envelope in her pocket. Half of it sticks out the top.
“That’s all well and good,” Larissa says, “but she’s staying at your house, Holtie. You’re practically marrying this girl in my book.”
“Oh, please,” I hiss, my stomach twisting tighter. “This is nothing more than … a business arrangement. She’s family of the Landrys, and this helps our situation—something Oliver has also forgotten about.” I look at him pointedly.
He rolls his eyes.
Larissa says nothing but doesn’t have to. Her smug little grin says it all.
I sigh.
“This is not a business arrangement,” Larissa says.
“How do you know?” I ask. “You just found out about this—from Wade, no less.”
“I know,” Larissa says, heading toward the door, “because I found out from Wade. If it wasn’t a big deal, Wade of all people wouldn’t have told me.”
She throws me a wink as if her point has been made.
“Riss, you need to be going. Oliver needs my help,” I say.
“Yeah, but I’ve needed your help all morning, and you’ve been as worthless as tits on a boar.”
“Gee, thanks,” I say.
He shrugs. “I think Riss needs to stay, and you need to … get this out of your system. Do it with her so I can get the Holt I know and need back, and we can go make money today.”
Larissa pats Oliver’s shoulder again. “I love your support of my nosiness.”
“It’s really just self-preservation,” he tells her. “I’ll see you at the concert?”
She taps the envelope in her pocket. “Yup. Are you bringing your new babe, Holt?”
I clear my throat.
The room gets hotter as I war mentally with her very, very simple question. The answer should be no. It should be a quick response that doesn’t require stumbling or thought.
I don’t bring random women to family events. My family isn’t a normal family, and they can overwhelm people. They can attract the wrong people. They can become a pass to all the glamorous events in the South—and elsewhere—and that doesn’t bode well for relationships.
In any case, Larissa’s question shouldn’t still be lingering in the room.
And Oliver, Larissa, and I all know it.
Oliver shakes his head.
“What?” I ask, my question bordering on hostile.
“Just answer the damn question,” he says.
“I did.”
“No, you didn’t.” Oliver stands. “And I don’t actually care, but now I’m curious. And I like watching you squirm.”
Larissa leans against the door, her head resting on the wood panels. “I think he answered it, Oliver.”
“I’m not bringing Blaire to the concert,” I say. But as soon as I do, I regret it.
It’s none of their business.
Fuck them for putting me in this position.
“Suit yourself,” Larissa says, exchanging a grin with my brother. “But may I remind you that you’re getting old. You might wanna settle down and have kids while you still can.”
“What?” I ask, my jaw dropping for her benefit.
She laughs. “Thanks for the tickets. I’ll see you two later.”
“Bye,” Oliver calls after her.
I give her a wave before heading back to my desk.
My heart pounds in my chest as I sit back at my seat and overtly ignore my phone. I rifle through my drawer as if I’m searching for the meaning to life when, in reality, I’m just searching for my fucking sense.
This situation shouldn’t screw with my head like this.
But my whole family shouldn’t know about Blaire, either.
It’s not a big deal, and even if I wanted to bring her to the concert, what would it matter? Would it really be that different than if I’d bring Daphne Monroe or some other debutante?
I pull out a peppermint, then slip the wrapper off and pop it into my mouth. My mind tries to rationalize the last few minutes when I lift my head and my eyes meet Oliver’s.
He’s staring at me with a smug smile on his face.
“What?” I ask.
“Nothing.” He shrugs and looks back down at his papers. “You’re just so full of shit.”
Before I can respond—before I can get my head wrapped around what he’s insinuating I’m full of shit about, exactly—Rosie knocks on the door. Her head pokes around the corner.
“Boys, Graham Landry is in the conference room,” she says.
“We’ll be right there,” I tell her.
She nods and disappears, pulling the door softly behind her.
Oliver shuffles his papers into a neat stack. “I need to get one more file from my office before we go in.”
“You go ahead,” I tell him. “I’ll meet you there in five.”
He nods and disappears out the door too.
I tuck my tie in my jacket once again before pulling at the knot around my neck. I’m not sure if it’s too tight today or if my office is unusually warm. Either way, it’s uncomfortable.
My lungs fill with air as I step around my desk. But before I can get all the way to the other side, my gaze falls on my phone.
I stop.
Blaire: No worries. I get it.
“No worries, huh?” I mutter.
Shaking my head, I pick up the phone and glance at the clock. After a quick mental calculation, my fingers fly across the keypad.
Me: I apologize for bailing on you today. I should’ve called. Meet me at The Carriage House tonight at six. It’s on Harrison Street. I’ll make it up to you.
Before she can respond, I turn my phone off and toss it on my desk.
“Now, let’s go make some money,” I say as I march out of my office.