Serving the Mogul, page 21
I didn’t stay long after the talk with Zoey.
Tina filled my thoughts.
I texted her before leaving. I took the long way home, confident she would respond, and we could talk about this, hopefully at her place.
That didn’t happen.
Pissed off now and uncertain what to do, I went straight home. But I made the mistake of going home instead of to the penthouse suite in the city.
I stripped out of the clothes I’d worn to the picnic to take a long shower. I told myself it was to wash away the sweat of the hot day. In reality, it was to wipe off the faint scent of her I kept picking up, perhaps from my t-shirt, perhaps from my skin.
I changed into a loose pair of lounge pants and went out to the extended wooden deck that ran the length of the porch.
I dropped into a chair on the deck and let my head fall back. Staring at the endless expanse of sky, I brooded over the message I probably should send.
I even typed one several times over.
But in the end, I deleted it all.
Thirty-Seven
Tina
I slumped in my office chair, the weight of my work responsibilities weighing heavy on my shoulders. It wasn’t quite ten on a Tuesday, and I already felt like I’d worked an entire week.
Half the shit I needed to begin the next phase of the project at the hotel was either on backorder at the suppliers, or the paperwork to get the crews started had been delayed.
I also had several inspections lined up, and until they were complete and passed, there was only so much I could do.
I stared blankly at the calendar on my desk and my mind wandered to James and what he’d said to his sister, Zoey.
Zoey, with her simple yet elegant fashion sense, and pretty smile, with sparkling eyes to match.
He had asked her to design a dress for me so that I would have something appropriate to wear to a formal event, as if I couldn’t come up with a suitable gown on my own.
My head hurt just thinking about it, so every time those thoughts bubbled to the surface, I pushed them out. I couldn’t do my job and think about him.
To make an already shitty day worse, this morning I’d discovered a slight problem with my usual caffeine dose—I was out of coffee. At home and at the office. A low-level headache had been teasing me since I opened my eyes, and every minute that passed without my favorite brew made it worse.
Of course, if I could stop crying or brooding over James, maybe I could sleep better at night. If I slept better, I wouldn’t need so much caffeine to get through the day. If I didn’t drink so much caffeine, I might rest easier. It was a vicious cycle.
And here I was, thinking about him again.
Leaning back in my chair, I rubbed my temples to ease the brutal ache pulsing at my temples.
“Focus, Siegler. You’ve got work to do.”
A smooth bell tone sounded as the door opened.
Opening my eyes, I straightened and fixed a smile in place.
It wobbled, then faded as the man came inside, a hesitant smile on his handsome face.
“Hello, Tina.”
Leaning back in my chair, I tapped the pen I’d been holding on the arm of my chair. “Cecil.”
My voice was ice cold.
He stood in the door, looking uneasy and nervous.
He didn’t say a word. After thirty seconds of silence, I finally asked, “What are you doing here?”
Cecil’s handsome face folded into a pained frown. “Ouch. I deserve nothing better, though. I’ve been a total ass to you, haven’t I?”
My reply was to raise my brow.
“Yeah.” He blew out a slow breath and lowered his gaze. His gaze landed on mine again and he held up something I hadn’t noticed—a cardboard drink carrier boasting two coffee cups. He gestured with it as if making a peace offering.
Greed unfurled inside me.
It must have shown on my face, because a hint of humor appeared in Cecil’s eyes. “I thought maybe you could spare me a minute or two if I brought the appropriate bribe. And caffeine in the morning has never been a miss with you.”
“True.” I held out a hand.
He placed the carrier on my desk and removed a cup. After checking the markings on the side, he passed it over. “There you go…three creams, two sugars.”
He remembered. That wasn’t a major surprise. Important dates and that kind of thing. He was good at keeping track of them. On our six-month anniversary, he took me to the restaurant where we had our first date. Romance was never an issue for him.
“Mind if I sit?”
I tipped the paper cup to my lips, relishing the first taste and gestured for him to have a seat, then said, “Go ahead.”
Cecil settled in the chair, hitching up his trousers, then crossing his right ankle over his left knee. He sipped his coffee; his posture relaxed. His eyes were partially veiled by thick lashes. “Hmmm…excellent coffee.”
I couldn’t argue. I took another hit of the life-giving brew, the caffeine already rushing through my veins. I didn’t quite feel human yet, but there was a hint of relief in sight now. “Thanks for this. I keep forgetting to buy more coffee for the office.”
“No problem.” He offered a half-smile. “Consider it an apology, of sorts.”
“An apology for…?”
Cecil’s gaze fell away. “Well, there’s a lot of shit I need to apologize for. Things between us didn’t end well, did they?” He shot a quick glance my way before returning to ponder his coffee. But he didn’t give me a chance to reply before he continued. “I’m sorry for that. But…specifically, I was talking about how I dropped in on you unannounced the other day. That was a crap thing to do, especially with how we ended. I’m sorry.”
The apology caught me off guard.
“Thanks,” I said, settling on the simplest way to handle it because I wasn’t entirely sure why he was here. I pinned him with a direct look and asked, “So, why did you come over? And why are you here now…other than to apologize? And bring me coffee, of course.”
He smiled ruefully. “I left the company. Didn’t like the direction they’ve been moving in for the past six months, So I decided it was time for a clean break.”
“And you thought the best place to start over was in Houston?” Dubious, I studied him.
“Hey, some suburbs in Houston are considered the best neighborhoods in the country. Prime real estate, great investment potential.” He winked. “And after San Diego? Shit, the cost of living in California is so fucking high now, I can’t afford to live there. I’m not sure where I want to settle, but I’m giving Houston a chance as a first choice.”
“And you’re in my office because…?”
A slow smile curved his lips. There had been a time when that smile had made my heart flutter. Now I could only think how practiced and fake it looked. “I’m job hunting, of course. I handled it badly, coming to your house the other day. Instead of assuming our history gave me a pass on being professional, I should’ve just kept things all business.”
“Job hunting,” I said.
He inclined his head.
I blew out a hard breath and pursed my lips. “Cecil, I’m still getting established. I barely have enough clients to keep the lights on right now. I’m not making enough money, at present, to hire a second designer.”
Cecil shrugged. “We can always do it on a per-project basis. You and I always worked well together.”
We had worked well together. For a while. That for a while was the problem, though.
Checking the time, I mentally worked through the schedule for the afternoon. “Tell you what. I’ll think about it. Right now, I’m in the middle of a big job, and I have to run to the construction site. I’ve got an inspection before the crew can start working on the next phase.”
“How exciting,” he said. “Would you mind if I came along?”
“This is marvelous.” Cecil spoke softly, as he stood next to me, his head tilted back to take in the high ceiling. They had removed the light fixture for refurbishment and repair, but both of us knew how to look beyond that and see the finished project as it should be—would be.
He flipped through the binder that held the project specifications, stopping when he reached the images for the Italian marble that would soon cover the rough concrete under our feet.
“I like,” he murmured, nodding in approval. “Very art deco.”
“I know.” I grinned. As I looked over the lobby, I felt some of the stress from the past few days disappear. The space was empty save for the two of us. The demolition crew had finished up the past Friday, making way for the next stage, and things would move faster once they approved the inspection.
Cecil read my atrocious scrawl with the ease of a longtime co-worker. “Who’s handling this project?”
I was glad I hadn’t turned back to Cecil before he asked that question. I didn’t want him to see my face. “A local guy—family money, but he’s pretty big in the hospitality industry. It’s the first older property he has ever purchased to renovate. This will be a boutique venue, too, so it’s a new project in several ways.”
I pursed my lips and surveyed the area one last time. “I have to get ready for the inspector. Let me show you out.”
“I think you’re doing amazing work here,” Cecil said as I walked with him to his car.
“Thanks. It might be the best job I’ll ever have the privilege to do.” It sounded kind of…lame, saying it out loud, but it was the truth.
Cecil leaned against his black truck and pulled a pair of sunglasses from the breast pocket of his dress shirt. Sliding them on, he said, “I can see that. I’m kind of jealous.”
“Like you don’t have some impressive jobs in your portfolio.” I smiled.
“Well, I do hate to brag…” He feigned buffing his nails.
“Uh huh.” Snorting, I glanced at the car pulling into a spot a few yards down. When a portly older man climbed out, I dismissed him.
Cecil sent me a dashing smile. “Hey, listen…I was wondering if I could take you to dinner tonight.”
“Ah…You must be joking?” I half laughed. My phone buzzed. I glanced at it, hoping, again, that it would be James. But it wasn’t.
“Just dinner between friends, Tina.” He offered a smile. “We haven’t talked in a while. I’ve missed you.”
Thirty-Eight
Maximus
I wasn’t in the best frame of mind when I turned onto the narrow street that led to the small lot behind the Biscayne hotel. The detached parking garage was slated for demolition so reconstruction could begin in the coming weeks and currently, it was blocked off.
Several days had passed since the picnic, but Tina hadn’t responded. I had only reached out once, determined not to crawl.
If she’d stop being so stubborn, this would all be over.
It was my right to stop by the hotel and see how she was doing. I wasn’t crawling back.
So, I’d stopped working an hour earlier and headed to the Biscayne before she finished her workday.
Thanks to the regular updates Tina sent to Miranda, I knew there was an inspection scheduled this afternoon, and I timed my arrival to coincide with the end of it.
I planned to ask her to join me for dinner. We’d talk, and I’d clear the air. She might feel a little silly for reacting as she had, but I’d just brush it off.
This stupid misunderstanding would not bring everything to an abrupt halt between us. I wouldn’t let it.
I nosed the car into the narrow spot behind the Biscayne with more speed than necessary, causing the tires to squeal. I slammed the brakes and wrenched the keys in the ignition with enough force that I wouldn’t have been surprised if the key broke off.
I noticed a lifted black pickup. I frowned, trying to peg where I’d seen it before.
The back door to The Biscayne was locked—not unexpected. I fished the keys from my pocket, mentally rehearsing what to say.
Hey, Tina. Look, this is probably nothing, but if I hurt your feelings Sunday, I’m sorry.
That was easy enough. Right?
She’d smile, maybe slide her arms around my neck. I’d kiss her, and everything would be fine.
The door opened with a burst. I had to sidestep to avoid having it slam into me.
Then I saw her, and it felt like I’d taken a blow, anyway.
“Tina.”
Seeing her had the same impact as always, a punch to my chest making my breath come harder, which I didn’t mind at all. A smile was already spreading across my lips.
It died a sudden death as my eyes zoomed in on the hand on her shoulder.
A guy’s hand.
Tina stopped in her tracks. She fixed her gaze on me as I fixed mine on the man behind her.
Recognition clicked. This guy. The truck. And Tina, wearing a colorful sundress, standing on her porch as this dickhead stormed off. The unhappy set of her eyes as she watched him climb into the truck, then the way her lips curved as she looked at me.
Anger stirred as the guy eased close to Tina, the movement blatantly male, blatantly possessive.
“Who are you, and what are you doing on private property?” I demanded.
Tina shifted, putting her body in my line of vision. Her words were calm but pointed. “He’s here with me. Cecil is a colleague, and I wanted his input on the plans for the Biscayne.”
My eyes flew to hers, but there was no answer to her sharp tone. Her expression was coolly polite.
“Did you want to come in and look around, sir?”
That sir pricked me like needles, and I almost snapped the hold I had on my temper. Almost. I managed to throttle down and give a polite smile. “No.”
“Then if you’d let me pass…?” Tina returned my smile, but there was an edge, a sharpness to the curve of her lips I hadn’t seen before.
What the fuck? Had Zoey been right?
I met Tina’s gaze with sobering clarity, and the answer was likely yes. My half-sister more than likely was right because that glitter in Tina’s dark blue eyes held both anger and hurt. And I was the one responsible for those emotions.
Feeling lost, I stepped aside and let Tina exit, as well as the guy who stood close to her. I could read body language, and he’d made sure he was in her personal space on purpose. Her colleague. My ass. He gave me a smug smirk as she locked the door, but the smirk faded to a polite smile the second Tina turned to face us.
“Was there something you needed, Mr. Maximus?”
Mr. Maximus—
I clenched my jaw, struggling to keep a sharp reply behind my teeth.
“Nothing’s wrong.” I forced a smile and hoped it wasn’t as brittle as it felt. “I need to talk to you, though. I thought I’d catch you at the end of the workday so we could grab dinner.”
With only a few feet between us, Tina was wedged between the door and her colleague to her side, blocking her retreat from that avenue. I stood in front of her and could see her eyes shoot to my left, assessing her space for a possible exit. Common sense and courtesy both dictated I move.
I didn’t. I shouldn’t have been surprised when Tina moved closer to her friend, but it was still a blow to the gut. He shifted position, allowing her to pass before falling into step with her.
I wanted to punch something—preferably him.
“I’ve already made dinner plans, Mr. Maximus. Cecil and I have some catching up to do.” She gave her companion a warm smile. The blue of her eyes was cold enough that I felt it in my bones. “It’s for the best, though. After all, I’m hardly dressed properly to stand by your side, right?”
Her words were a slap, and I couldn’t stop my flinch.
Cecil touched the small of her back, then offered his arm.
She accepted, and they walked toward his truck.
“Tina.”
While Cecil opened the door for her, she looked at me. “Yes?”
I froze, a million things trapped in my throat because I didn’t know what in the fuck to say. How could I know what to say?
“You should go to your club,” she said, her tone cool when I failed to find the words. “I’m sure you can find many women with the right sense of style and pretty enough to stand at your side. Or kneel.”
She climbed into the truck’s cab without another look.
Cecil smirked as he sauntered around the truck, looking quite pleased with himself.
Asshole.
He opened his mouth as if to speak.
“Say a word, and I’ll knock your teeth down your throat,” I warned.
His eyes widened, and the smirk faded. It returned, a fraction less gloating, but he kept his mouth shut.
That was good because I was so pissed. I would have loved to pummel his surgically correct, perfect nose with my fist.
Thirty-Nine
Tina
“So, that Maximus guy…he’s the owner of the site you’re renovating?”
I shifted uncomfortably in the chair across from Cecil and nodded.
The little bistro was all white-tablecloths-and-candles. I’d been here before with Dina, and the maître d recognized me, offering a warm smile. I’d taken the seat by the wall, so my out-of-place attire wasn’t immediately obvious, but I knew I wasn’t dressed for this place, and that made all the difference.
“He doesn’t seem like a hotelier,” Cecil said, his tone musing. “Especially for the sort of work you’re providing. Really rough around the edges.”
It was stupid of me to feel insulted on James’s behalf, especially after what had happened Sunday. But I wanted to tell Cecil to shut the hell up.
I offered a half-shrug instead and grabbed the wine list.
I flipped it open, and Cecil said, “Oh, I had a bottle in mind for us to try.”
I refrained from gritting my teeth and said, “We usually have pretty different tastes in wine. Might be better to each order a separate glass of wine.”
