Chapter Three
His hip perched upon the wide windowsill, Damien rested an elbow against the double-paned glass as he read over the purchase agreement for the row of craftsmen duplexes he’d just acquired in the Broadmoor neighborhood.
He had contractors on standby, ready to convert the three houses into office spaces.
He even had a small law practice on tap to move into the first one.
He’d emailed the lease agreement to the personal-injury attorney as soon as the sale had gone through.
That was the kind of deal he lived for: quick and uncomplicated. Unlike the deal he’d made with April yesterday.
Damien tossed the purchase agreement on the credenza and turned to the window. He leaned forward, resting his forehead on the thick glass. He softly tapped his head against it in an attempt to knock loose some of his common sense. Apparently, it was lodged somewhere up there.
How had he allowed himself to be coerced into spending his Saturday mornings in the Lower Ninth Ward?
He’d spent the past two years since his return to New Orleans actively avoiding his old neighborhood.
Yet he’d volunteered to teach a bunch of kids from the area about money management? Was he crazy?
But being forced to spend time in the Ninth Ward on a weekly basis for the next month and a half was only one part of it. In the hours since April left his office yesterday, Damien had discovered the other thing about this deal that had him on edge.
When he looked at April, he no longer saw the beanpole girl with braces and the thick French braid she used to wear in high school.
To be honest, he hadn’t seen her that way in a long time, but their get-togethers had been few and far between over the past decade.
Usually, Damien saw her for only the length of one dinner, or sometimes just a quick coffee.
That was about to change. Drastically.
When he’d first devised this plan to use April as a deterrent for eager women wanting to get closer to one of New Orleans’s top ten bachelors, Damien hadn’t considered what it would be like to spend hours upon hours with her in a situation where they would be expected to be more than just friendly.
He was about to find out just what that would entail, and it made him nervous.
Yet, at the same time, he was intrigued as hell.
There was a knock at his door only milliseconds before Clarissa’s voice called, “Hey, are you ready?”
Damien’s mind instantly switched back to business mode as he turned away from the window. “Yes, I’m ready,” he said. “Is everyone in the conference room?”
“Everyone but Mei. She’s checking out that building at the corner of Clearview and Veterans. She texted to say that it looks good so far.”
“Yes,” Damien said with a fierce whisper, giving his fist a small pump in the air.
He’d had the old Horizons Bank and Trust building on his radar for months.
Damien had a specific purpose in mind for it.
With all the new films being shot in this area—which had been dubbed Hollywood South in recent years—he thought that building would be the perfect place for a new sound studio.
His plans were to section it into various suites.
One for audio and visual, another for editing, and the others for whatever else the film industry needed.
He’d hired Mei Lui, a veteran of the film industry, to figure that out for him.
He didn’t care how it happened, as long as it did.
Damien grabbed his leather portfolio from his desk as he headed out of the office. “Do you mind bringing in a pot of coffee?” Damien asked his office manager.
“That’s my job,” Clarissa answered.
“Thanks,” Damien replied as he entered the corner conference room.
His team of five real estate agents, two assistants and his financial guy were all seated around the glass conference table.
“We need to talk strategy about Alexander Quarters,” Damien opened.
The name he’d picked for the building he wanted to erect on the land he’d purchased in the Ninth Ward had nothing to do with ego. Damien saw it as a way to honor his father. A memorial to a man who’d given his all to that neighborhood, including his life.
“I think there’s something more important that we need to discuss first,” Rajesh Singh, his senior financial analyst, said.
Damien’s brow furrowed. There wasn’t a single thing more important than Alexander Quarters. And why in the hell was the normally stoic Rajesh looking at him with that stupid grin on his face?
“We didn’t realize we had one of New Orleans’s top ten eligible bachelors in our midst,” Rajesh said. “This needs to be discussed.”
A round of applause broke out across the conference room, followed by a standing ovation.
“Oh, great,” Damien muttered.
Clarissa entered the room with the requested coffee, along with a blueberry muffin sporting a handmade Top Bachelor sign stuck to the edge of a toothpick. Not requested.
“I wanted to put the little naked man we used on the cupcakes at my sister’s bachelorette party, but someone told me that would be inappropriate for the workplace,” Clarissa said, staring pointedly at Rajesh.
“I’m happy you listened,” Damien said.
He decided to be a good sport about their good-natured ribbing, but after a few minutes—and some choice words from Clarissa for Damien lying about the reason the photographer was there weeks ago when he came to do the photo shoot for the article—Clarissa returned to her desk in reception and everyone got down to business.
“Our main focus remains the McGowan Group, but you all have been working with me long enough to know that I need a plan B, C and D.”
“No need to stop at D,” Rajesh said. “Feel free to go through the entire alphabet.”
Damien chuckled. “I promise not to go overboard this time. I feel confident about the McGowan Group, but it wouldn’t hurt to have others on our radar in case things fall through.
” He turned to Sheryl Bardell, who’d followed him from the national real estate company where he’d first started out.
“How are we doing when it comes to identifying the best events to attend where I can rub elbows with some of the city’s top investors? ” Damien asked.
“The stretch between the end of Mardi Gras and the beginning of football season is probably the best time to do this, so that’s one notch in the plus column,” Sheryl said.
“They’ve recouped their money from carnival season, and the LSU and Tulane football boosters haven’t been hit with requests from the schools yet. ”
Sheryl pressed a button on the remote she held and a bulleted list appeared on the projector screen on the far wall.
“We’ve identified a number of events around the city that should get you significant face time with potential investors. I think what we need to concentrate on is your pitch and, well, your appearance.”
Damien’s brows peaked again. “Excuse me?”
“I’m not talking about your appearance, per se, but rather how it would look to investors to have you showing up alone to all of these events. I know it sounds old-fashioned, but having a significant other on your arm conveys a sense of stability and loyalty. Both qualities investors look for.”
“Don’t worry about that,” Damien said. “I’ve got it covered.”
Silence encompassed the room.
“Since when?” Sheryl asked.
“Since yesterday,” he answered.
“You found a girlfriend yesterday?” Rajesh asked.
“So you’re no longer a bachelor?” This from Clarissa, who was listening through the speakerphone from her desk, which she did during meetings since the rest of them sucked at keeping minutes.
Damien picked up the coffee cup Clarissa had given him before going back to her desk and wrapped his hands around it. He put it back on the table without taking a sip.
“I approached a friend who happens to be a girl and asked her if she would accompany me to a few events,” he said. “It’s no big deal.”
“You’re so cute when you’re trying to be humble,” came Clarissa’s voice through the phone speaker.
“Can we please get back to work and stop worrying about my dating life?” Damien asked.
The team spent the next twenty minutes discussing various deals coming down the pike, from those that were just in their infancy stages to potential buildings they all had their eyes on.
Once the meeting ended, Damien went to his office and started sifting through his emails.
He’d been so busy today that he hadn’t had a chance to keep up with them on his phone.
“Damien, Leroy Fairchild just called to cancel Monday’s meeting,” Clarissa said through his phone’s speaker. “Do you want me to reschedule?”
“Not yet,” he said. “I didn’t want to meet with him anyway. Tell him we’ll connect later in the summer.”
“Okay. Also, I just got word that the tickets for Senator Landry’s reelection fund-raiser came through.”
“Awesome,” Damien said. “Put it on my calendar.”
“Oh, and Kurt called. He wanted to know if you two were still on for lunch.”
“Why didn’t he text me?” Damien pulled his phone from his pocket, making sure nothing was wrong with it.
“He said he wanted to hear my sexy voice. Your brother is such a flirt.”
Damien rolled his eyes. “I’ll text him in a minute,” Damien said. “Do you mind ordering chicken lo mein and the shrimp in garlic sauce from Five Happiness?”
“I’m here to grant your every wish,” she said, eliciting another eye roll from Damien.
He quickly went through a few more emails before shutting down his computer. Just as he rose from his desk, Clarissa’s voice came through the phone again.
“The Gambit is on hold,” she said.
Damien stared at the red blinking light. He pressed the intercom for Clarissa. “Can you take a message?”
There was a beat of silence before he heard heels clopping and his door sprung open.
“Take the call,” Clarissa said. “You do not turn down a call from the Gambit.”