Chapter 25
My stiletto heels tick-tack rapidly along the tiled pathway leading up to the entrance of the huge office building.
In towering shoes like these with high bone-breaking potential, I generally struggle to stay upright and graceful, but the adrenaline rushing through me right now gifted me with a sense of balance that even the most practiced yoga master would kill for.
The path is lined with massive palm trees, their leaves swaying around more forcefully than the last time I came here. Must be the strong sea breeze blowing inland from the coast. The sky is dark with clouds and I can hear the rumble of thunder in the distance.
While last time I was mostly feeling intimidated by the gigantic building, I’m so deeply furious today that I barely register the size of the property.
All I see is an oversized structure that seems completely out of place among the quaint architecture surrounding it.
It exudes pretentious arrogance, dominating the aesthetic of the formerly picturesque street—like the largest baby magpie in the nest hogging all the food, while starving the other chicks in the process.
As I step into the chilly lobby, I notice the receptionists are all occupied with phone calls. I don’t feel like taking a seat in the reception area. I want to see Elias. Immediately.
Without hesitation, I walk in a straight line to the elevator and press the button. The doors glide open almost instantly with a soft ding, drawing the attention of one of the receptionists.
Um, ma’am? Where are you going? I hear her call out, her hand wrapped around the microphone of her headset.
Ignoring her, I step into the elevator, pushing the button for the top floor.
Ma’am! I hear again, much closer now, and I catch a glimpse of the blonde woman’s stunned face right before the doors close. The LED numbers on the display flip from floor to floor as the elevator makes its way up.
My heartbeat is pounding in my ears and I’m squeezing my purse in my arms. My grip becomes tighter with every floor I pass.
Damn it, Elias. He was all, We never enact that clause. It’s just a guarantee. Yeah, right.
As the elevator continues to climb, I’m getting progressively angrier.
That lying, scheming real estate asshole.
Who the hell does he think he is? Granting us that deferral just so we could work our tails off all summer to transform the restaurant into a booming business, only to turn around and ruin everything anyway.
He told me during our night on the beach that he didn’t initially know about the sketchy clause in the contract.
Well, he definitely knows now—the letter had his name on it!
The yellow number jumps from nine to ten.
Did he really think we’d just roll over and take this?
That we wouldn’t go all-in and take this all the way to court if necessary?
These terms would never hold up in a Dutch court and I’m willing to hire an excellent lawyer to get to the bottom of this.
It would be an unfortunate reason to dip into the financial cushion we built this summer, but it would be so much worse to lose the beach restaurant after all the hard work we put into it.
The elevator doors slide open and I power walk by all the employees pounding away at their keyboards like well-oiled little machines.
I remember exactly how to get to Elias’s office.
Straight ahead, past the enormous map of Ibiza with the enlarged buildings.
Take a left at the office with the floor-to-ceiling windows where the man inside is staring at his screen like he might be scrolling through a website that’s decidedly not safe for work.
Once I reach the door with the silver nameplate with E. Castillo, Co-CEO engraved on it in swirly letters, I hesitate for a moment. Just like last time, the windows are obscured by closed blinds and I can make out the shadows of two people moving around inside.
But then I shake my head. The woman from the reception desk could be here any minute and order me back downstairs. I bang my fist onto the dark wood twice, but I don’t wait for a response. Instead, I just push down the door handle and let myself in.
Elias is pointing at his computer screen, explaining something to a woman who’s leaned in next to him.
I recognize her from last time: his assistant.
The top button of her blouse is undone and, if he wanted to, Elias could look straight into her envy-inducing cleavage.
But he doesn’t even seem to notice and instead looks up when he hears the door open.
The dormant butterflies in my stomach, quieted by my all-encompassing fury, attempt a weak flutter when I lay eyes on Elias’s stupid, gorgeous face.
Once I’m able to calm this internal tingle, I notice he looks awful.
There are dark circles under his eyes and his stubble seems a little thicker than usual, like he hasn’t been shaving as frequently these days.
His black hair has been slicked back in a side part, but even that seems a little messy.
One rebellious strand falls onto his forehead, making him look a little less composed than the last time I faced him in this room.
He blinks a few times, as if he needs a moment to process who’s standing in front of him all of a sudden.
His eyes brighten for a fraction of a second as a smile of relief appears on his face.
When his eyes dart across my face, though, the corners of his mouth slowly tilt down.
He’s obviously picked up on my murderous expression.
His assistant stands up and gives me a calculating look. Mr. Castillo’s next appointment isn’t until four. You’re not on his calendar.
Elias shakes his head and opens his mouth to speak, but the door swings open again, the receptionist appearing in the doorway, panting loudly. Her prim Grace Kelly twist is now off-kilter and her sweaty, red face has loose strands of hair plastered to it.
Lara? Elias asks, sounding surprised. What’s going on?
I... Unauthorized... Stairwell... Lara wipes her forehead and points a perfectly manicured fingernail in my direction. You! she wheezes. Out! Now! Or I’m calling security!
It’s okay, I hear Elias say.
He’s trying to sound calm, but I catch a hint of nervousness in his voice, betraying his true frame of mind.
But... Lara offers up in a hasty protest.
He rises to his feet and straightens his tie before gesturing toward the door. I said it’s okay. Can you give us the room, please?
The assistant and Lara both make their way out of the office, but Lara stops in the doorway and turns back around. Speed dial number 2 will get security on the line, Mr. Castillo.
I know. Thank you, Lara, but I don’t believe that will be necessary.
She nods, then pulls the door closed behind her and Elias turns to look me in the eye. Right? he asks, pulling up a corner of his mouth in an unsure attempt to lighten the mood.
Without saying a word, I take three long strides to his desk, open my purse, pull out the crumpled letter, and slap it down onto his desk. I honestly would have preferred to slap it into his face, but I imagine that would have killed any chance of salvaging a positive outcome for the restaurant.
You liar, I spit out.
Elias gives the crinkled paper a surprised look, his eyebrows shifting higher and higher up on his forehead. What...
You said there was no need to worry, I interrupt him. You said that damn clause was just a way to guarantee that people would repay their loans on time. This... I poke a finger at the letter, is proof that you were lying to me.
Elias picks up the letter from his desk, his eyes scanning the paper as his fingertips go whiter and whiter. Finally, he looks up, shaking his head. He swallows multiple times with a stunned expression on his face. I didn’t know anything about this, is all he manages to utter.
A guttural noise squeezes its way out of my throat.
Your name is right at the bottom of the letter, Mr. CEO.
The last words come out so snarky that Elias's jaw clamps shut, his nostrils flaring. Aw, his little feelings are hurt, but I don’t give a crap.
Isn’t it your responsibility as CEO to know about these kinds of things?
To know what’s happening in your own company?
Of course, but...
Are you honestly surprised that I don’t believe you? Sure, you can hide behind your tormented-little-rich-son sob story and become a walking cliché, but that doesn’t take away from the fact that there are things happening in your company that you supposedly know nothing about.
As soon as the words have left my lips, I know I’ve crossed a line.
I just dragged up something he told me in confidence and used it against him.
Even though I know I’m right and he should definitely know about the shady things going on in his business, I probably could have made that point without bringing up the personal things he told me on the beach.
Elias comes out from behind his desk, stops right in front of me and glares at me with fury in his eyes.
The smell of his fragrant aftershave is triggering unwelcome memories of our tangled bodies and intoxicating kisses.
Breathing heavily, he brushes a hand through his hair, causing it to tumble around his face.
You think I knew about this? he says in a menacing tone.
You’ve seen me every day for almost two months.
I’ve told you things I’ve never told anyone else before.
You know me. His voice is getting louder.
Do you really believe I would do this? That I’m involved in some kind of massive conspiracy to take over the restaurant after all the hard work you all put in?
He holds me captive in his gaze. As anger slowly disappears from his eyes, it’s replaced by an emotion that seems more like sadness.
You know me, he repeats, so softly this time that I almost don’t hear it.
I swallow and lick my lips. Watching the movement, his gaze lands on my mouth. My breathing is ragged and I crush my hands into fists before relaxing them again as I take a moment to think.
Even if you didn’t know, you should have known.
You can’t weasel your way out of this every time by claiming innocence.
This is your company, too. You might not want it to be, but that doesn’t release you from your responsibilities.
I take a step back to create a bit of space between us and Elias looks down.
You’re right, he concedes after a brief silence, then looks back up at me with determination in his eyes. I’m going to get to the bottom of this. I’ll get back to you as soon as possible.
Thank you, I say, my rage slowly fading away.
In the quiet moments that follow, I pick up my purse from the chair, close it, and hang it over my shoulder.
I guess I’ll be going. I nod my head toward the door and when I push down on the handle, I hear his voice.
Eva?
Yeah? I turn to look at him.
He seems lost over by his desk, like he’s not sure what to do exactly. Letting out a deep sigh, he shakes his head in a movement that’s hardly noticeable. I’m so sorry things turned out this way.
Something in his eyes and his voice tells me he’s not talking about the loan. I give him a quick nod before I close the door behind me.