If I look at these property details one more time, I’m going to drive myself insane.

But I can’t put them down.

The solution is here, right in front of me, but I can’t see it.

I lean back in my desk chair and rub my eyes. What time is it? I’ve been sitting here since everybody else went home. It can’t have been more than a couple of hours ago, only—shit, the sun is set. It’s as dark outside as it ever gets in New York City, with the ambient light from all the buildings and cars and streetlights glowing in an orange haze above the skyline. I pick up my phone from the desk. 

It’s one a.m.

I can’t leave here until I figure out what to do.

The weekend was excruciatingly long, every hour stretching out into three or four. I don’t want to leave the penthouse, but halfway through Saturday afternoon, Dominic Wilder texted me and insisted on a night out. 

You can’t spend forever holed up in your penthouse.

I’d paused the show I was watching without taking any of it in.

How the hell do you know what I do with my spare time?

New York’s not that big a place.

It’s big enough for you to leave me alone, isn’t it?

Not a chance. Come out tonight. Vivienne insists.

I leaned my head back against the armrest of the couch. New York City is only so small if your circle of friends is limited to the people who work in your office and a group of other nosy people with enough money to buy the time to care if one of their own hasn’t been seen in public for a couple of weeks.

So I went.

Vivienne’s eyes sparkled when she saw me. “Where’s your lady friend?”

“I don’t have a lady friend.”

Her expression fell in disappointment. “I liked her. What happened?”

I’d clutched at my chest like the pain was too much to bear. “You hardly knew her. And anyway, it wasn’t serious.”

She narrowed her eyes at me. “It wasn’t? It looked pretty serious at the restaurant opening.”

“Looks can be deceiving.”

“Is it deceiving that you look kind of sickly and pale and you haven’t been out in way too long?”

“What are you, some kind of surveillance officer?”

“I notice things.”

“I notice that I don’t have a drink.”

“First round’s on me.” Dominic slapped his hand on the table and called for the waiter. “Cheer up, Jasper. It’s not the end of the world, whatever it is.” Then he cocked his head to the side, reconsidering. “Although if it is the end of the world, you should either get her back or move on.”

Vivienne gave him a smile that crackled with heat, then turned her gaze on me. “Dominic chose door number one.”

“I’m so happy for you guys.” We all laughed. 

For the rest of the night I tried to keep my head in the conversation, but I couldn’t ignore the deluge of ideas rushing through my brain. None of them seemed like they were worth pursuing. None of them seemed worthy of Isabella, anyway.

Sunday went by in the same fashion, then Monday.

By this morning, I’d lost count of the number of coffees and energy drinks I’d poured into my body, trying to use every last moment to figure out what to do. 

Whatever it takes.

My dad’s words keep ringing in my ears, but could he have been any vaguer? It’s not like he dropped everything and tried to get my mother back. It’s not like she would have come back even if he had. But whatever it takes doesn’t narrow down the options.

I look through the papers one more time. This situation with the buildings—it’s separate from Isabella. Figuring out what to do with the buildings won’t tell me what to do for her. Am I seriously going to be left with groveling at her doorstep, nothing in hand? 

No. I can’t do that.

Screw that.

Two of the buildings Mike brought for my consideration are next to each other, a sidewalk between them, leading back to an alley. The sidewalk is a literal middle ground. If we went forward with those, it would need some landscaping, and we’d have to work with the city on—

A middle ground.

The phrase rattles around in my mind, again and again. Middle ground. Middle ground. 

There’s a middle ground between the buildings.

There’s a middle ground between gutting everything and keeping some of it.

There’s a middle ground between forcing out all the original tenants and installing new ones who can afford to pay the high prices I’m going to charge.

But I don’t have to charge those prices for every single unit.

No.

In fact, I could reconfigure the units entirely so that the luxury condos are up near the top of the building, with separate access to some of the amenities. I could improve the buildings overall while still leaving space for some of the tenants who don’t want to leave. As they gradually move out, I can convert the spaces into more condos...or even leave a few units in each building separate.

They wouldn’t be on the luxury level, but...

It’s going to lose money.

That’s a truth I can’t deny, and it might be a hard sell to some of the people we’re selling the condos to, but I’m confident I can pull it off. And the PR boost would be incredible. It might even shake loose my reputation for being such a heartless bastard.

I open the folder with a flutter of papers. We’re not going to keep every building and rent out the space. Some of them, we can still develop the way Pace, Inc. always has—a total renovation from the inside out. But others...

Others could be different.

Alongside all of this, a new idea is forming in the back of my mind. Isabella isn’t a real estate developer, and now she’s got an aging building on her hands. Is she really going to leverage Gabriel Luxe’s resources to get a handle on it?

If I can pull this off, she might not have to.

And even if it’s not enough to show her how I feel about her, still, after all the terrible things we both said...

My throat goes tight.

I’m not going to think about that right now.

Instead, I pick up the folders, tuck them into my briefcase, and head for the door. I need some sleep. And then I have to get on the phone.

My heart beats furiously on the way to the car in a silent prayer. 

Please, let this work.