Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 89898 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 449(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89898 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 449(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
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.”