I march to my phone and stab at the speaker button. “Get Hughes on the line.”
Jordan is usually good for a verbal sparring match if the conversation calls for it.
“Yes, sir.” Walt’s tone is flatter than his chest. Even my assistant lacks his usual fire against me.
Several choice words spill from my mouth. “Who pissed in your coffee this morning?”
“No one. I’ll get Mr. Hughes for you.” His monotone plucks at my last nerve.
The urge to punch something jolts through my hand. “Dammit, Walt. I don’t need your moody shit.”
His exhale crackles across the intercom. “I’m not the one who needs an attitude adjustment.”
That bite of snark has me sitting up straighter. “I’m not paying you for mental health advice.”
“Right.” Walt coughs, sucking in a deep breath. “My apologies, sir. Hold for me to connect Mr. Hughes.”
My momentary boost deflates with a snarl as I collapse in my chair. The pause is short-lived when shrill ringing blares into the space. He has the decency to answer after two rounds, putting me out of my misery.
“Jordan Hughes,” he greets.
“It’s Landon.” My grunt offsets the cheer in his voice.
He chuckles. “Well, shit. In all our years, you’ve never initiated contact.”
I don’t bother trying to dispute that absolute truth. “Any fresh leads for me?”
“Ah, there he is. Straight to business. I almost worried you were reaching out to be social.”
“That would require me to actually enjoy talking with you.” Metal creaks as I recline in my seat.
“Even you can’t steal my sunshine, Winters. Also, you’re the one who called me.” A smug grin practically radiates from his tone.
The likelihood of this interaction going my way is narrowing by the second. “Do you have anything for me or not?”
Jordan sighs. “Now isn’t a great time, unfortunately. I shouldn’t have answered to begin with.”
I balk. “Too busy for me?”
“Humble as ever.” He laughs again. “I’m ditching the grind to take my wife on a trip for our anniversary. Our flight is this afternoon. I only bounced by the firm to drop off a contract. You just happened to catch me.”
“Lucky me.” I grind my teeth against a burning sensation flaming under my skin. His speech is salt in my festering wounds, and defeats the entire purpose of calling him.
Some rustling echoes from his end. “Anything important to discuss?”
“It can wait. I won’t delay you.” I turn my glare to the window, which isn’t helpful. The knot in my stomach doubles while I stare at the corner between those glass panels. Even my own fucking office is turning against me.
“Thanks, man. Sadie will appreciate me following her directions. Her rewards—”
I punch a button and his voice cuts off. There’s no chance that I want to know what his wife plans to do. The silence envelops me as I squeeze my eyes shut. Without staring at the crime scene, my imagination runs wild. All I hear is Vannah begging for more. Less than a week ago, she sat in this very chair and rode my face. That’s not a visual I can easily erase.
The startling truth I’ve been trying to expel latches on with renewed strength. I miss her, dammit. What this revelation means for us in the long-term is still unclear. Vannah might not be interested in dating. That thought halts my staggering progress. Did I just contemplate dating?
I dip my head with a groan. This woman is determined to take me down by any means necessary. One thing is certain—that feeling isn’t going away. If anything, the soul-sucking twinge is getting worse. This yearnful suffering is precisely why getting attached is for fools and chumps. I don’t have time to chase her fucking tail. Not that she even wants me to.
Vannah’s reception to my attempts so far is below freezing. The chill is bone-deep and chattering my molars. Since I’m finally owning these emotions, the dam breaks and harsh reality pours in. It took a day for the weight of my betrayal to manifest, sinking onto my shoulders until I had to hunch over. The fact that I concocted such a sinister ploy to begin with is nauseating. Blaming my father is easy, but it’s a copout. He makes an excellent scapegoat, though. If only I hadn’t made the choice to rule my own life a decade ago, that dodging maneuver would be foolproof. I’ll never pride myself on cowering or hiding in anyone’s shadow. This is my mess to clean.
I tap my phone to check for notifications. There are dozens waiting, but none from the only one I want to connect with. I’ve been trying to contact Vannah ever since we fought last week, but she won’t accept my calls or return my messages. With an upward swipe, I open our texting thread. The recent bubbles are all from me. That same result is found in my call log and inbox. Savannah Simons is ignoring me and that isn’t a bold exaggeration.
Traveling to Minneapolis is a valid solution, but not an immediate option. My schedule will keep me stationed in Chicago for at least five more days. Other possibilities for the interim seem slim with her radio silence. I considered sending her flowers or an oversized teddy bear. After my last delivery, those gifts will probably be taken out of genuine context and thrown straight into the trash. I haven’t gone over her head by contacting Vince, but that’s an avenue I’ll keep in my detour routes if necessary. It’s a dick move, which I’ve already met my quota on where she’s concerned. I’m not above stooping to drastic measures if she forces my hand, though.
Vannah can’t brush me off and assume I’ll accept defeat. Battling against her has become my specialty. A plan solidifies from the flaming ashes in my heart. If I have any say in this war, we have a lifetime of fights in our future.
As always, our business is far from finished.
The cramp radiating across my shoulders squeezes tighter as another second ticks off the clock. Only thirteen minutes stand between the meeting with Sunny Skies and me. Reviewing the recent inspection results is usually a breeze, leading directly into the next phase, and this should be no different. The keyword there is should—written in bold and underlined.
Normally, by this point, both sides are ready to settle. I’m positive Sunny Skies is more than eager to get their expansion rolling forward. We’ve been stuck in a holding pattern for weeks, no thanks to a certain investor who refuses to be satisfied. Just the reminder sends a fresh wave across my already itchy skin. It’s their mistake for giving Landon too much power.
He’s changed strategy since our fight in Chicago. Suddenly, Landon is dragging his feet and using any excuse to delay the process. I’m well aware he’s doing this on purpose to dig at me. After his most recent complaints about a crack in the concrete and a busted handle on some pipe, I was ready to tell Vince he could assign Landon to another broker. But quitting his case won’t get him off my back. If anything, that would probably entice him to up the stakes again. I just need to grit my teeth and get through this. It will be my greatest challenge to date.
A tremble twitches through my fingers as I continue fidgeting with two connected paperclips. I’ve managed to avoid Landon’s attempts at contacting me for nearly three weeks. The man is persistent, I’ll admit, but didn’t take his newfound habit far enough to pop by for an unannounced visit. It’s almost guaranteed that this session won’t be the standard process with an uneventful agenda if he decides to crash the proceedings. I’m expecting his attendance, but he has yet to show.