Three of the longest days of my life,” Isa told Chloe. She plunked her tote onto her desk, where her assistant sat tapping out an e-mail.
After completing her third day at Eli’s beck and call, Isa realized she wasn’t at his beck and call. He didn’t “beckon” or “call” her to do anything. She’d been the one pushing and prodding him. This assignment was certainly different than any in her past experience. Eli wasn’t piling to-dos on top of to-dos onto her shoulders—quite the opposite. She spent most of her day trying to keep busy and e-mailing Reese to ask what to do next.
That stopped tomorrow.
She understood the gist of what Reese wanted and refused to keep bugging the busy CEO for details. The man had plenty to do that had nothing to do with his stubborn mule of a brother. Though, she admired the way he behaved as if Eli were part of his job. Worrying over him like a mother bird fretting while her baby attempted to leap from the nest.
“And…done.” Chloe tapped the keyboard with flair and waggled her hands in front of her like she’d performed a magic trick. “So you survived another day with Cranky Crane?”
“I did survive.” Isa smiled at her friend’s nickname for their latest client.
“If anyone can do it, you can.” Chloe rolled the chair away from the desk. “I answered all of the e-mails I could, sent out letters to clients who haven’t paid in thirty days or more, sent invoices to collections for clients who haven’t paid in sixty days or more, and fielded your many, many phone calls. The good news”—she stood and pulled a manila file folder from Isa’s inbox—“is that the items you have to deal with are all in this folder. You can work from home if you like.”
“Bless you.” Isa stuffed the folder into her tote. One reason why Chloe was her right-hand woman was her insane efficiency. “I will work from home. After dinner with my parents.” She lifted an eyebrow sardonically.
“Ouch. Is this about…?”
“Probably.”
Chloe knew the story since she’d been Isa’s in-office PA for over two years. Isa leaned on her more than anyone.
“Anyway,” Isa told her, “I should go before I’m late. I’ll walk out with you.”
Together they shut off lights and computers, set the alarm, and walked to the private parking lot. Isa didn’t bother going to her upstairs apartment to change. Dinner with her parents was going to be a formal, dry affair, and what she was wearing—a slim skirt paired with a blouse—would do nicely. Or so she’d thought.
When she arrived at Flaire fifteen minutes late for dinner, she wished she’d changed. “Fancy” didn’t describe the place. It was oppressive, the sweltering atmosphere drowning diners in an air of money and pompous righteousness.
She thought of Eli, this time with a measure of relief. His environment was nothing like this one despite his money—in fact, she wouldn’t have guessed his monetary status if she hadn’t known his background. At least working for billionaire Elijah Crane didn’t involve a massive mansion with a house full of staff buzzing about. She could handle grouchiness, but the privileged elite, not so much.
She spotted her parents the moment she bypassed the host stand, her mother’s red dress and her father’s height standing out. Helena Sawyer’s long hair was pulled into a proper chignon, black with a few gray threads she insisted gave her “character.” Her father, Hugh, had lighter hair than her mother’s and turned an affable smile to Isa the instant he spotted her.
“Mom. Dad.” Isa sat.
“You’re fresh from work.” Her mother frowned.
“Yes. Busy day.”
“You could have taken the time to change, Isabella. You know we prefer you dress for dinner.”
“I’m here now, so let’s just deal with that.” Isa ordered a glass of white wine from the waitress and lifted the menu to review the a la carte selections. Her parents followed suit and reviewed their own menus, chatting off to the side about which entrees to share and which to skip.
Isa was glad they were occupied by something other than what she did for a living. It was an exhausted topic, one she definitely didn’t want to broach after a long, long week, half of which was spent in the company of Eli’s bad attitude.
There she went thinking about him again. She guessed that wasn’t atypical considering she often took her work home with her. She hadn’t been a personal assistant since she’d hired enough staff to stop. It wasn’t all that strange that she’d be caught up in her thoughts, turning over the last days she’d spent with him.
Or it could be electricity snapping in the air whenever you’re in his presence.
Hmm.
They ordered and Isa lifted her wineglass and took a hearty swig. “So. Why the dinner invite? What’s the occasion?”
“We don’t need an occasion to see our daughter, Isabella,” her mother said, lids lowered, brows raised.
“You don’t need one, but I’m sure there is one.” Isa finished her wine and tapped the rim of the glass when the waitress walked by.
“Two glasses before dinner. Is that necessary?” her mother asked.
“Yes. Now. Occasion? Is someone getting fired? Married? Who died?”
“We’re promoting Josh to president of Sawyer Financial,” her father said.
News of her ex’s promotion settled in Isa’s stomach like a rock. The waitress’s timing on that second glass was impeccable. Isa accepted the wine and drank down a hearty gulp.
“We’d like you to attend the ceremony next month.”
Isa opened her mouth to say no, or more aptly hell, no, but her father anticipated the answer and spoke first.
“Just because you two are no longer dating doesn’t mean you can’t support him.”
“Isn’t that exactly what not dating him means?” she asked.
“This is a very big win for Josh,” her father said.
Isa replied drily. “Yes, it’s everything he ever wanted.”
Everything he’d ever dated her for. She’d always wondered if, when she broke things off with him, he was saddened because their relationship was ending or because he might not be able to secure a higher station at Sawyer Financial.
“He’s a very driven man, darling. You can’t fault him for that.” Her mother moved her hands to her lap as the waitress brought a round of tapas.
No, and Isa didn’t fault him for his drive. She faulted him for not loving her in a whole and genuine way. He appreciated her breeding more than her as a person.
“You are still a part of this family,” Helena continued, “even though you’ve opted to go the servant route rather than take on the position we grew and pruned specifically for you.”
Isa closed her eyes and counted to five. That was the farthest she made it before her father started in.
“Our families have decades of past business between us. It would be rude for you not to show up and support the Lindens over some petty breakup eons ago.”
“It was not petty, Dad,” Isa said, measuring her words carefully. This wasn’t a new conversation. One day, they’d hear her. For now, she would let them think she was having a repeat of her teenage drama years. “Josh was more in love with Sawyer Financial Group than he ever was with me.”
Her mother let out a disbelieving pfft.
“And we broke up three years ago, which, yes, was a while but definitely not eons.”
“He’s single,” her mother said. “And so are you.”
Okay, so this angle was new. Isa felt her forehead crease. “I’m not…we’re not getting back together.”
“He’d like to see you, though. He misses you.” Her mother cut a scallop in half casually as if she wasn’t trying to steer Isa into the arms of a man who barely liked her, who’d never loved her.
“He doesn’t miss me,” Isa said. How could he? He’d barely tolerated her and her big ideas to start a business outside of Sawyer Financial when they were dating.
“I’m a man, Isabella.” Her father lifted his martini to illustrate his point. “I can see when another man is heartbroken.”
“Is that why Josh has been dating vapid excuses for women lately?” Isa mumbled. She wasn’t jealous, but it was frustrating to know that he’d carried out the plan he’d warned her about.
If you don’t climb to the top of Sawyer Financial mountain with me, Bella, I can find someone who will.
“You can’t blame him for drowning his sorrows,” her mother interjected.
“Oh, please.” Isa lifted her wine.
“We’ve already spoken to him about reputation. As upcoming president of our institution, we can’t have another repeat of Reese Crane’s issues.”
Isa put down her glass without taking a sip. Her father was referring to Reese’s reputation with women before he’d married Merina. Twice. Rumor had it he’d nearly missed out on being named CEO because of his philandering ways, but who knew what to believe?
“Renegades, those Cranes.” Her mother sneered.
“What do you know of the Cranes?” Isa asked, because seriously, how random was it that they’d brought up the Crane family the very week she’d stepped in as Eli’s assistant?
“We read the paper,” her mother said, chin aloft.
The gossip rags, she meant.
“Those groups of wealthy misfits are known for their rogue behavior. Sawyer Financial doesn’t need that type of attention.” Her mother chewed a tiny bite of scallop and carved another.
Yes, wealthy people were to be well behaved, quiet, and pave paths only with the gold of their ancestors. Heaven forbid one of them start a rebellion.
“Well, I’m sorry to say I won’t be getting back together with Josh to help repair his reputation. I’ll thank you not to pimp me out to the highest bidder in the future.”
“Isabella.” Her father’s fair skin went pink. “Don’t use that language with us. You know our position on you and Sawyer Financial. You know we want what’s best for you. You’re essentially pimping out the kinds of people your mother and I casually hire and fire. Where is the commitment in your business? To excellence? To permanence?”
His words never failed to cut her to the quick. Several defenses sprang to mind, all well worn. Frankly, Isa was too tired to participate.
“We want better for you.” Her father’s temper cooled and he laid a hand over hers on the table. She knew he wanted the best for her. At their core, both her parents did. But she refused to bend to their will if it meant sacrificing her dreams for theirs. “You’re our princess.”
She snatched her hand away. She was not a princess, refused to be a princess. She wanted to rule the kingdom, but she’d do so following her own rules, not those set by the elitist few.
“Dad, I’m happy. I tell you this nonstop. I’m happy with what I do. I’m good at what I do. I have thirty-two, er, thirty-one”—since Melanie’s exit—“employees to oversee and I won’t leave them in a lurch.”
Isa used to try to make her parents proud but soon found it impossible. Now she’d settle for quiet. If they’d stop harassing her about her lowly choice of vocation, she’d be eternally grateful.
“Anyway,” Isa said, slicing into her own scallop, “even if I wanted to date Josh, I couldn’t.” She hated to lie, but they hadn’t left her much choice. “I’m seeing someone.”
“Since when?” her father asked.
“Who are you seeing?” Her mother’s brow rose to its highest point.
“It’s still very new.” Like as of ten seconds ago. Isa redirected her eyes to her plate. “I don’t want to jinx it.”
Especially since it wasn’t true. Isa had been single and just fine, thank you, since she and Josh had split. She’d had a dinner date here and there before then, but over the last eighteen months, she’d quit dating altogether. Her focus had been on building Sable Concierge to the next level. And now that she was so, so close to that goal, her parents wanted her to start dating Josh?
No friggin’ way.
“Well, since this development is so new, you can plan on attending Josh’s ceremony,” her father said, adding an unfriendly, “Your new beau might not be around by then.”
“Is Josh going to be single then?” Isa snapped.
“Yes,” her parents answered at the same time. Damn. Had they put his dating status into his contract or something?
“And if you happen to be single,” her mother added with a smile, “I’m sure Josh will be overjoyed at the idea of your reconciliation.”
“Splendid idea, Helena,” her father said with a proud smile.
A perfect example of why talking with her parents was akin to talking to a wall. They had an agenda, and they’d see it through. The option of not showing up was tempting, but she also knew there would be many Chicago elite at that party. It wasn’t a bad idea to rub elbows with them. But the matchmaker thing was not happening.
To be sure, she’d hatch a plan of her own, Isa thought smugly as she sat back so the waitress could take her plate and replace it with a salad. Isa would find a fake date for that night to be her arm candy while she worked the room.
Win-win.
* * *
At her dining-room-table desk at Eli’s house, Isa jotted the afternoon’s tasks onto a pretty pad of paper she’d picked up at a fancy stationery store. Orange and gold flowers decorated the corners, and every narrow, crisp line was preceded by a checkbox. Nothing made her happier than a checked list, unless it was a pretty one.
She’d grown accustomed to working in here and was starting to favor Eli’s high ceilings and windows over her cramped, piled office. Today, the sun shone brightly, the day a little warmer than usual for late September. Sunlight filtered through the paned glass windows, giving an ethereal feeling to the rugged space—the dust motes sparkling like glitter. For the third or fourth time today, she pulled in a cleansing breath.
Dinner with her parents had left her frustrated for several reasons. Mostly because they were trying to mash her and Josh together. Simply put, Josh had been a bad boyfriend, prioritizing his work over Isa. Toward the end when he rolled out an ultimatum, she’d had an epiphany. She refused to take second place in his life—or in her own. She found the strength to leave him and the strength to move forward with her business idea at once. In a way, she owed Josh a thank-you for paving that path, but she sure as hell wasn’t going to date him.
Her phone rang and she hesitated answering since she was on Eli’s clock, but then figured he wouldn’t notice anyway. He spent every day entrenched in…something, rarely coming out of his office. This job had become like monitoring a wild animal. Feed it, stay out of its way, and try not to disrupt its normal and natural pattern.
“Chloe, hey.” Isa stood from the table and half ran/half walked to the kitchen where there was an additional partial wall between her and Eli.
“Sorry, hon. No luck.”
“Did you try Tracy?”
“Yeah, he’s getting married that day.”
“Oh. Wow.”
“I know. Unlucky, right? I heard back from the other guys on your list.” Chloe had started reaching out to Isa’s professional and personal male friends last week to ask if they could attend a social event with her. Isa hadn’t elaborated further.
“And the rest of them?”
“All nos.” The sound of Chloe flipping through pages of notes accompanied the saddest checklist ever. “Brandon is out of town for work, and Nathan said his wife would kill him.”
“My gosh, Nathan is married too?”
“Uh-huh. And Travis and”—more paper flipping—“Jacob and Antonio…No, wait, Antonio isn’t married. He’s gay and his partner’s birthday is that weekend.”
“Stop.” Isa couldn’t take any more. “I’ll have to make a plan B.”
“Escort service?” Chloe joked.
Isa groaned. She hoped it wouldn’t come to that.
“What do you need a date for anyway?”
Isa would gladly have avoided this conversation altogether but found herself in need of a sympathetic ear. She lowered her voice and cupped her hand to the phone. “My parents are trying to get Josh and me back together.”
There was a measured silence. “Why?”
“The usual.” She dropped her hand. “Breeding of the strong bloods, world takeover, yada yada.” Isa kept her voice down when she added, “I told them I was dating someone. I didn’t think it’d be this hard to find a stand-in by the time of the banquet.” Yet here she was: dateless, and the ceremony was next week.
“Crap.”
“Yeah.”
“What about my brother?” Chloe chirped. “He’s twenty-three but very mature.”
“Absolutely not.”
“He looks older.”
“The idea was to be discreet and keep everything professional. Plus, doesn’t your brother live in Maryland with your family?”
“Good point.”
“Thanks for trying.” Isa walked from the kitchen to the living room, careful not to say anything too revealing. “I’ll work it out on my end.”
“You sound formal. Are you pretending to work in case you’re overheard by Beast Crane?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Would you settle for a pretend girlfriend? I look great in a cocktail dress.”
Isa let loose a laugh as she paced back to the dining room table. “I’ll consider it. There would be the added bonus of stealing Josh’s thunder.”
“Sable!” came a shout from Eli’s office.
“He does not call you that.” Chloe gasped.
“He does.”
“It’s kind of sexy, though. Don’t you think?”
She did. For some reason, whenever he bellowed her nickname, shivers tracked down her spine. And not in a bad way.
“Don’t be ridiculous. Gotta go.” Isa hung up on her friend and dropped her phone on the table, straightening her outfit for maximum Bettie Pageness on her way to Eli’s office.
* * *
Isabella was clacking around his warehouse—he could hear those spike heels every time she stepped off the carpeting onto the concrete. His concentration had been interrupted several times in the last hour. He looked away from the calendar reminder announcing his friend was arriving soon to shout her name. Again.
“Sable!” There was a pause in her steps; then those steps came his direction. The closer the clacking drew, the tighter his gut went. She’d been here, what, two weeks now? Every damn time he saw her, that tightness extended from his gut to his chest the moment she poked her head—
“Yes, Eli.” She leaned in, wrapping her hand around the edge of the wall, her dark hair coasting over one shoulder, her nails pale and manicured, her eyes catlike as she gave him a slow blink. He absolutely did not look at her cleavage, on display in a ruffly white shirt she’d paired with a black skirt that ended demurely below her knees.
“Your shoes are irritating,” he said through his teeth.
“These?” She pointed a toe in a pair of shiny black heels that led to delicate ankles and the tempting swell of her calves. He shifted his legs beneath the desk, because it was either that or bite his knuckle in sexual frustration.
“Yes. Wear something quieter. Those are disruptive.” Each time he heard her clacking, he had to mentally restrain his imagination.
Oh, the places it could go…
“What, like Crocs?” she asked.
He gave her a bland look.
“Apologies, Eli, but I’m not changing my shoes.” She came into his office, her hips swaying with each sure step she took toward him.
“Fine. Then you’re fired.”
“Oh, no, not again.” She smiled, her lush mouth tipping at both ends. She lifted his empty coffee cup from his desk. “Refill?”
He breathed in the spicy scent of her perfume. How was it that she smelled like exotic temptation? He’d be damned if he was going to tell her to change her perfume. Then she might ask why he didn’t like it, which wasn’t the case at all.
He liked it way too much.
“No,” he said.
She started away from him.
“Wait.”
She spun on that spindle of a heel and cocked her head. “Yeeees?”
“Sit.”
“I’m not a dog, Eli.”
He raked his teeth over his bottom lip and called up his patience. “Ms. Sawyer, won’t you have a seat?”
“I’d love to,” she chimed, sitting prettily after relinquishing his empty mug to one corner of his desk.
“I heard you on the phone. Personal call?”
“I don’t think that’s your business seeing as how you just fired me.”
The moment her voice dropped on the call, Eli had strained to listen to what she was murmuring about. He’d heard a name, Tracy—could be a guy or a girl—but the following comment about Nathan being married tipped him off. Nathan was definitely a guy’s name. He’d debated bringing it up, but if she was going to continue to stay here and be a thorn in his side, she needed to respect his time.
“You’re looking for a date on my time, Sable. That is my business.”
Her eyes rounded guiltily. Damn. He’d hoped he’d been wrong about that. He didn’t know much about her, but he never heard her talk of anyone else or dating anyone else. He assumed she was single.
“I…It’s not what you think.” Her eyes flitted to the side. “I’m attending a function requiring a plus-one, that’s all. You know what?” She affected a perfectly poised smile. “It won’t happen again.”
“Good.” He didn’t particularly enjoy serving as a dating service hub for his PA. That was just what he needed: one more happily, annoyingly in-love person in his orbit.
Isa rose from her chair and snatched his coffee mug. “If we’re done here, I’m calling it a day. You’ll be glad to know my disruptive shoes and I can see ourselves out.”
“Very funny.”
She winked, one glittering eye closing and reopening as that distracting smile remained. He had the sudden longing for Melanie and her blatant lack of sex appeal. Isabella Sawyer was a lot to deal with for a man who didn’t want to deal with anyone.
Fist wrapped tightly around his pen, he listened as her shoes swept the most gorgeous woman he’d ever laid eyes on out of his warehouse.
“Stubborn,” he grumbled, unsure if he was talking about himself or her. It hadn’t taken long for her to ensconce herself into his work life.
A few minutes later, his cell phone rang.
“Zach,” Eli answered. Zachary Ferguson was a few years younger than him and a talented builder. He’d worked with Crane Hotels in the past and Eli was hoping he could help him out with a project.
“I’m outside. Can’t get in.” Zach’s Southern accent sounded foreign in this city.
Right. The gate.
Eli followed the path Isabella took, her faint spicy scent leading him like a bloodhound. “Hang on. I’ll be down in a second.”
When he reached the elevator, Zach interrupted him.
“Wait. We’re good. Some woman in a white car just…damn.”
The expletive left on an appreciative breath, and Eli could guess why. He ground his molars together and envisioned Isa flashing Zach a warm smile, her hooded, black-lashed eyes blinking as she pulled past.
“Thanks, love,” Zach called, and it wasn’t hard to figure he wasn’t addressing Eli. “Day-um.”
She’d been looking for an eligible bachelor this afternoon and had come up empty-handed. Eli didn’t want her to consider Zach, for God’s sake. Just picturing her with another guy brought out a territorial side of him he hadn’t exercised in too long.
“Come on up,” Eli said, his voice full of gravel.
He punched the END button on his phone and waited by the elevator, arms crossed. When the doors opened and Zach appeared, he looked as dazed as if Cupid had shot him in the forehead.
“Who was that?” Zach asked with a crooked smile.
“My assistant. She’s taken,” Eli tacked on, annoyed at the interest in Zach’s expression.
“Mercy. I guess.” Zach’s accent was thicker than before.
It might be shocking to learn that Isa was single if Eli didn’t know her. Few men enjoyed being handed their own balls by a woman.
Sure, keep telling yourself that as you cordon her off from available men.
“Good to see you again.” With a quick raise of his eyebrows, Zach let the topic drop. He extended a hand and Eli accepted it.
Zach and Eli had worked together on a new build during one of Eli’s stints home from the military. They knew each other. He’d worked with Crane Hotels in other facets as well, so it came as no surprise when Zach didn’t react to the sight of Eli’s bare legs poking out of from beneath a long pair of cargo shorts. No doubt Zach had heard about the injury.
Eli cleared his throat. Seeing someone for the first time since it happened was always the hardest part. They either reacted apologetically, awkward, or casual. He’d heard everything from “Thank you for your service” to “Tough break, buddy.”
He didn’t have a preference of reaction, save for he’d rather not have one at all.
“I’m sorry for…” Zach gestured.
Eli threw a hand to end the awkward pause. “Yeah, thanks. Beer?”
“Sure.”
There. They were through that.
Beer bottles uncapped, Eli handed over Zach’s. “Nickel tour?”
“Hit me,” Zach said, taking a swig.
Eli showed him around the warehouse. When he reached the front room again, he said, “Home gym equipped with rehabilitation equipment. You may have noticed I don’t have to worry about widening the doorways since I’m not in a wheelchair, but if I did, I only have a few. The bedroom”—he pointed to the end of the hallway—“office and bathrooms. Other than that, I have no problem getting around in here. Some soldiers aren’t as fortunate as I am.”
Zach’s gaze meandered down Eli’s prosthetic leg like he was wondering how any man could consider himself fortunate after losing a part of his person.
The answer was easy.
“Like the two men who died from the grenade that blew my leg off,” Eli said, his casual demeanor doing nothing to stop the flood of acid from pooling in his stomach.
Christopher. That stupid bastard. Two kids, a wife, and he was just twenty-five. Threw himself on the grenade at the same time Benji shoved Eli to the ground.
Eli swallowed down the bitter-as-vinegar memory before he continued.
“Injured men and women come home from the military to apartments and homes with narrow hallways, doorways, countertops that are too tall, and various other obstacles that make it difficult to feel like you’ll ever return to normal.”
But there wasn’t a “normal,” only the new normal. New normal was wily. Slippery. Harder to get a handle on than he ever would have dreamed. After spending time trying to relearn the basics and realign himself into his previous life, he’d accepted that there was no alignment possible. He’d simply have to wedge himself into a new life. One that was a shadow of his old one.
On good days it left him feeling bitter. On bad days…well, he didn’t dwell on what the bad days did to him.
Zach’s wheels were turning. Eli could tell by the way the guy’s eyes narrowed in thought. Zach walked through the gym equipment lined along the wall and pointed to the upstairs loft.
“Don’t get a lot of use out of that area, I’m guessing?”
“No.” Eli used to have his bedroom up there, near the exit to the rooftop. He used to sit outside and take in the city. It was the perfect ending to an evening. Stars, tall buildings, and a cold beer. He hadn’t been up there since he’d returned home permanently.
Where he’d tackled every physical barrier with fervor, the metal staircase and railings were a no-go zone. They used to be his favorite part of the warehouse, but now they represented loss. No longer did he wake in the morning to take in the entire apartment spread out below or roll over with a girl in his arms and offer to get her morning coffee. No reason to go up there now.
That memory stung the way memories of Crystal always did. His relationship with her was the last one he’d had before he shipped out. She’d been upset that he was rarely home and said she was moving out. He’d been angry but mostly hurt. When he returned home injured, he’d called her to see if what they’d had was beyond repair. She’d e-mailed him back rather than called, writing that she’d heard about his injuries and while she was sorry, she hadn’t signed up for a life of complications.
Being abandoned twice by her had stung like a bitch.
“What do you need from me?” Zach, beer in hand, sat on the weight bench, his fit form suggesting he wasn’t a stranger to the equipment.
Eli rested a palm on bars he’d used to learn how to walk again, the metal a cool reminder of how far he’d come.
“I’d like to provide a service for our soldiers who come home with less than they had when they left. You’re a good contractor. You know good people. And if you give me a decent rate, we can help a lot of men and women acclimate.”
Zach nodded once.
“What’s in it for you is the free advertising,” Eli said, answering Zach’s unasked question. Eli was asking for a cut rate considerably less than what Zach usually pulled in. “I’ll mention your company on the website, on the flyers, and at every event held to raise money. Ferguson Builders will be synonymous with reliable work and a golden heart.”
“Golden heart.” Zach’s mouth hitched and he looked to the window, his messy dark blond hair, shaved face, and country-boy good looks hinting at just that. “I know a few girls who would argue that sentiment.”
“Then leave them off your references.”
Zach chuckled. “All right. I’ll work up an estimate.”
“You can think about it. I don’t need an answer immediately.”
“Nah. I do better when I go with my gut.” Zach stood. “You have more to show me, or was this all the pitch you had?”
“I have more.” Eli paced to his office, Zach following, and for the first time in a long time, felt a genuine smile of pride crest his mouth.
Finally, Eli had a purpose again.