Caught Between Two Billionaires - Skye Warren Page 0,63
yourself or not. With a truck.”
And that wraps up Sutton in a single sentence. With a truck. Something idealistic enough in him to want an office built by his own hand. And something practical enough not to wonder how it will be done. The grin on my face, I couldn’t stop it for anything. “You’re amazing.”
He studies me. “Did you and Christopher keep drinking all night?”
“Slept like a baby, even though his mattress is hard.”
As soon as I say the words, Sutton’s blue eyes turn to frost. I wish I could take the words back, or explain that we didn’t do anything, that Christopher wasn’t in bed with me. Except that there’s voices coming from the reception area. And then Christopher stands between us.
“Good morning,” he says, his gaze detached and his suit impeccable.
He was gone when I woke up this morning, leaving me in his apartment. There was a cup of lukewarm coffee on the counter made with sugar and extra cream, exactly the way I drink it, which was the only sign that he knew I was even there. I ordered an Uber to L’Etoile, where it took a very long shower to feel human again.
Somehow Christopher went from melancholy drunk to determined in the space of a few hours. It’s like there’s a magnet between him and this focused businessman. No matter how far away he slides, he can snap back in a second. He drops a finger on the permit and draws it toward him, reading without expression.
Sutton strolls over to the far corner, where he runs a hand over a knot, his touch familiar and almost caressing on the wood. He would touch cherished skin that way. “We’ll need to appeal,” he says.
“Yes,” Christopher says, pushing away the paper, letting it slide. “It won’t work, of course. And we don’t have much time if we want to stay on schedule.”
“Seems unlikely,” Sutton says, but he adds, “There are a lot of men counting on that income. Would be good to come through for them.”
“There’s a domino effect with getting construction and our contracts with retailers.”
“And we would be in a stronger bargaining position when the construction crew inevitably tells me it’ll take longer. Hard to make the point we’re in a hurry if we’re slow as mud.”
Christopher nods. “So we’re agreed.”
I’m not sure what they’ve agreed to, except that having their construction permit denied is a bad thing for many reasons. I could have told them that. Then they look at me, and I realize that I’m going to play some part in getting this resolved. That’s only fair considering it’s the reason why I’m here, but I’m going to need more than clipped words.
“Mrs. Rosemont was really mad, you guys.”
Christopher gives me a half smile. “I’ll go to city hall. I have a few contacts there I’ve been working. A few angles that might help this go through.”
“Bribes?” Sutton asks.
“It looks like we’ll need them. Which means we don’t have money for those thousands of book restorations and moving the damned wall. Corruption doesn’t come cheap.”
“Wait.” But I’ve already lost control of the situation. I lost it last night when the first punch was thrown. Or maybe I was foolish to think I could control men like this.
This was also supposed to be the ticket to my mother getting the experimental treatment. That money will go to rich men instead, making them richer. Which strikes me as completely ordinary, all of a sudden. That’s how things have always worked in our lives.
Christopher looks at me, seeing right through all my worry. His eyes soften a fraction. “You did the work we asked you to, better than I could have predicted. I’m the one who fucked things up. Your mother isn’t going to have to pay for that. We’ll pay for the butterfly garden.”
He’s probably right, being a bastion of ethics and correctness. It still feels like a hollow victory. I don’t want to take money they need for construction. The only thing I ever wanted was to spend the money I already had. I never should have agreed to stay here.
Christopher’s forehead furrows. He doesn’t say anything, though. Nothing to reassure me. And he certainly doesn’t offer to let me use the trust fund.
“I’ll call Victor and the construction guys,” Sutton says. “Try to work out some kind of contract negotiations so they don’t walk away and start another job.”
Christopher nods and leaves without a backward glance. I watch the back of his head