“What are the right questions?”
“You want me to write the article for you?” I arched a brow. “That’s not quite how it works. What I will tell you is this. You don’t make the amount of money I have without sacrifice, risk, and balls. Am I a billionaire? Yes. Several times over. Did I have any family money backing me when I started out? No. Do I give back to the community? Every fucking day. Is there anything else on your generic list of questions, or have I covered it all?”
Her head dropped to one side. “What about your family?”
“What about them?” Over the years, I’d worked on not showing any outward signs of how much it irked me when I was asked about my family. Whenever a reporter had seen it back before I’d learned how to hide it, it basically guaranteed they would cling to that topic. I practically felt my blood pressure rise, but my expression remained stoic.
“Where are they?” she asked.
“Illinois. It’s a matter of public record.” No one knew anything more than that about where I came from and I planned on keeping it that way. I liked to keep my personal life private, and so far, I’d done a pretty fucking good job of it.
“You mentioned you give back to the community, but what about your family?”
“I don’t believe that’s any of your business if you’re doing an article on me as a success story for the real-estate industry.”
She pursed her lips. “It helps to know where you come from to showcase how successful you’ve become.”
“My success has nothing to do with my family.” Technically, that wasn’t true. My momma had certainly helped turn me into the man I was today, but she had nothing to do with my business or real estate.
“What about your childhood?” she asked. “What was that like? Did you play a lot of Monopoly to stoke your interest in your chosen profession?”
I snorted out loud. There hadn’t been time for anything as mundane as board games on our farm. My father’s motto was that if you weren’t working, you should be.
“Again, Ms. Maxwell, I don’t see how that’s relevant to an article about my firm or the success we’ve achieved. If that’s all—”
“It’s not.” Her eyes drifted away from mine to the bright, cloudless blue sky beyond the window before she looked back at me. “Why don’t you want to talk about anything personal?”
“I prefer to focus on the future. Isn’t that what your readers would like to know as well? Where Gaines Inc. is going and how we plan on getting there?”
A soft sigh escaped her, but she nodded. “Sure. What are your plans going forward?”
The rest of the interview passed quickly as I outlined a few of the projects we had going and what our vision was for the next five years. All of it was information that was already available on our website and had been crafted by a strategic team within the firm, but Hannah seemed satisfied with getting it from the proverbial horse’s mouth.
After she left my office, I heard a familiar voice on the other side of the door she’d left ajar. She giggled and I rolled my eyes at whatever shit my best friend was pulling outside.
A few minutes later, Andrew strode into my office like he owned the place and dropped into one of the leather couches against the far wall. He put his feet up on the armrest and crossed his ankles before propping his hands behind his blond head.
“Thanks for doing that. What did you think?”
“I think you should get your fucking feet off my couch.” I got up and went to join him in the lounge area, shoving his feet off the armrest when he made no move to do it himself. “I also think you could probably have some fun with her. She’ll certainly challenge you more than some of your conquests in the past.”
“I know.” His blue eyes filled with mischief and humor when he moved them over to where I sat down on the couch across from him. Sitting up, he rubbed his hands together and chuckled. “I’m glad you agree, though. I’ve been getting bored, but it’s time for the games to begin.”
“Don’t you have something more productive to do with your time?”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know, like maybe consider doing your job as an agent for my firm?” I suggested with a shake of my head.
Andrew pouted, but he couldn’t completely hide the grin trying to kick the corners of his mouth up. “Yeah, I guess I could do that. I’m supposed to be out looking for houses for clients right now, but I’d rather go get drunk. Interested in coming with me?”
I opened my mouth to say no, but then I changed my mind. Doing interviews pissed me off every time and a drink would help take the edge off.
Plus, what was the point of being the big boss around here if I didn’t get to blow off steam when I needed to? For years, I’d kept my nose to the grindstone and my head down.
Once I’d gotten my firm on the map, I vowed to be the kind of boss people actually wanted to work their asses off for. I needed them to, and in return, I didn’t micro-manage them. If Andrew wanted to get drunk on this fine Friday afternoon, I knew he’d either already put in the work necessary for this week or would be getting it done over the weekend.
The same could be said for my other employees. This wasn’t the nineteen-fucking-eighties. Workplace habits and dynamics had changed, and I was trying to keep up with the times.
Andrew pushed to his feet. “Well?”
“Why the fuck not?” I shrugged and walked back to my desk to tell my secretary to reschedule the rest of my meetings. “Let’s get out of here. I need a drink after all those fucking questions.”
Chapter 3
Elsie
The tinny ringing of the school bell made my head jerk up. A groan fell from my lips as my neck protested the sudden movement after being bent down, poring over feedback reports to Mrs. Carr all morning.
Reaching up to massage the sore muscles, I heard noise starting up outside my door. Children laughed and whooped, their excited chattering causing a pang in my hollow chest.
Mom had been gone for a little over a month now, and sometimes, I still felt so removed from the world that it was difficult to hear normal life carrying on when it felt like mine had ended. Nothing had been normal since that fateful day, and I struggled to accept the fact that it was because this was my new normal.
I felt empty, numb, but I knew that I had to keep putting one foot in front of the other. Mom wouldn’t have wanted me to perish in my misery, so I kept going.
Realizing that it was lunch time when my stomach grumbled and the noise outside intensified, I kicked my shoes back on and picked up my purse. Beth’s food truck had been parked nearby all month, just in case I needed her during the day. My best friend’s hotdogs did well around here anyway, but I appreciated her moving the truck to stick close to me.
She’d been an absolute godsend since that day, and honestly, I didn’t know if the whole putting one foot in front of the other thing would have been possible if it hadn’t been for her support. When she’d first asked me what she could do to help, I hadn’t had a clue. Somehow, she’d figured out exactly what I needed from her anyway—even without any help from me.