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.
Landon does have an appreciation for the dramatics. His tendencies could score him a leading role on Broadway, or maybe The Strip. He’s probably hiding in a closet, waiting until I pass to leap out. The idea is laughable, more so at me for believing that could actually happen. I clutch my head and curse the fates responsible for turning me into such a nut.
It’s official—I’m losing it. The spark within my guts is little more than a fizzle. My boss bitch mask is nowhere to be seen. That protective shield would really come in handy, especially today. I haven’t fully recovered from my confidence taking that brutal beating. Landon is the obvious offender, but I should be better equipped to bounce back without lingering injury.
After sucking in a long breath, I exhale even slower. I’m fine. Mostly. Kind of. The pulsing in my temples shifts, attacking the base of my skull. All right, I’m a mess. Maybe some would grant me the compliment of being a