Chapter Six

Jordan

“Last minute appointment,” my dad said.

He flagged me down as I was trying to slip out of the office completely unobserved to start my evening. He handed me a slip of paper and waited for me to read it.

“That’s the address,” he growled.

That’s how I ended up in Manhattan, staring up at one of the newer buildings, made almost entirely of steel and glass. A door man stood off to the side, watching me closely. As I approached the building, he stepped forward.

“May I help you?” the doorman asked.

“Yeah, I’m here to give a quote to a –”

I looked down at my father’s scribbled handwriting. I couldn’t make out the first name, but I did my best on the rest of it.

“Miss Childes,” I say. “I’m with Jackson Construction.”

The doorman nodded, but didn’t open the door. Not right away, at least. He pressed a button and it buzzed, and I leaned up against the wall next to the door, waiting.

“Miss Childes, are you expecting someone from Jackson Construction?” the doorman asked, looking at me skeptically.

“Yes, I am, Frank,” the woman said on the other end of the intercom said. “Send him up, please.”

I tried not to smirk as Frank held the door open for me, allowing me to step inside the luxury high-rise condominium. Something that quite obviously ruffled the man’s feathers.

The lobby of the condo community reminded me in many ways of the Barclay. Like the hotel, the condo community had a lush interior and a large water feature in the center of the room. Marble floors and big, bright windows beckoned me as I walked through the lobby, heading toward the elevator. I glanced down at the address again, and pressed the button for the correct floor.

This unit was near the top – on the 22nd floor. When I stepped out of the elevator, I found the correct condo fairly quickly. It was only one of three units on the 22nd floor. Unit 2202.

I knocked on the door, and tried to envision what Miss Childes’ might look like before she answered. Typical Manhattan housewife, probably? Bleach blonde hair, fake tits, too much makeup, and the whole shebang. Or maybe she was older – more refined with gray hair pulled up into a severe bun and pearls around her neck?

What I didn’t expect though, was seeing my most recent hookup on the other side of the door.

Chastity opened the door, a friendly smile on her face until she recognized me. Her eyes widened, her mouth fell open, and her face was a mask of pure and utter shock. She opened and closed her mouth, but no sound came out. It was as if she wanted to speak and couldn’t find the words. Or just forgot how.

So, since she was struggling so bad, I cared my throat and broke the ice, doing all the talking.

“Nice to see you again,” I said.

“You too,” she choked out.

She stood there in the doorway, wearing black slacks and a lacy pink top that that was mostly see-through. And she still looked every bit as sexy standing there as she did the night we’d hooked up.

“You know, this would go a lot easier if you invited me in,” I said, cracking a smile. “So I can see what we’re working with here?”

“Oh yeah, of course. Sorry,” she said, stepping aside and letting me into her home. “I’m just stunned, that’s all. I never thought I’d see you again. This is all a bit awkward, to be honest.”

“Didn’t think you would? Or hoped you wouldn’t?” I teased.

She started to protest when I held up my hand and stopped her. “It’s a joke,” I said, running a hand through my hair. “We’re cool, Chastity. The past is the past. We had a good time together, but my visit today is all business.”

“Good,” she stammered. “Because I’m so very thankful for you.”

I bet you are, I thought to myself, a mischievous grin spreading across my face. I scolded myself though. Business, Jordan. Purely business.

“So, what do you need done?” I asked.

I finally managed to take a look around. Her condo was pretty much a blank slate. New construction with completely white walls, not a bit of furniture to be seen. Its emptiness explained why she’d been staying in a hotel. The place still smelled of new paint and drywall.

“Well, umm, as you can see,” she said, gesturing at the empty living room around us, “We’re starting from scratch. I had the option of letting the developer design and build the place, or find my own workers. I told them I’d find my own designer because I wanted more control.”

“I’m sure you did,” I said, the words slipping from my mouth before I could stop myself.

Chastity turned a bright shade of pink and looked away from me, unable – or unwilling – to meet my eyes.

“I work in the design industry,” she said, ignoring my comment. “I’m a fashion designer, but I’d like my home to articulate my unique style. Know what I mean? That’s why I didn’t want their run of the mill, cookie cutter designer. I want somebody with an edge and somebody who can really translate my style.”

She cocked her head to the side and smiled. She was trying so hard to ignore the comment I’d made earlier. I could see it in her eyes. It hadn’t slipped past her though.

“I do understand,” I said. “You’re definitely a woman who goes after what she wants. I admire that.”

Her cheeks flushed some more, and this time she turned away from me. She led me into the kitchen, which was as bare bones and unadorned as the rest of the house. There were no cabinets, shelves, or anything. There was certainly nothing that would signify that we were standing in a kitchen really, except for the gas hookups and the built-in space for the refrigerator – which was empty.

“I was thinking, in here, I’d like a built-in island that leads into the living area. That way, while I’m eating dinner, I can stare out the windows on that wall,” she said. “Cabinets should be dark. Stainless steel appliances. And instead of marble or granite, I’ve seen some interesting countertops made from concrete. Is that something you’d be able to do?”

“Yes, ma’am,” I said. “All of that is within my skillset.”

She giggled, covering her mouth as if to stifle the joke at the tip of her tongue. She didn’t need to say it though. I already knew what she was thinking and that’s all that mattered. I shot her a playful wink as she turned to lead me down the hallway.

“There’s no door on the master bedroom,” she said.

“How awkward,” I said, waggling my eyebrows at her playfully. “For your guests, I mean.”

“Not like I have much going on in that area anyway,” she laughed. Then she looked over her shoulder at me and blushed. “I mean, besides –”

“I know what you mean, Chastity,” I laughed. “So what were you thinking?”

“I was hoping for a receding door. One that I could open up into the living area during the day for a little more sunlight,” she said. “I really like the idea of a completely open floor plan. But, of course, we all need our privacy from time-to-time.”

“I’m sure your boyfriend would appreciate that.”

She stopped talking, and her face fell. It was a passing comment. Honestly, it was more of a feeler to see what she’d say. To find out if she had a special someone in her life already. I found it hard to believe a woman like Chastity could be single.

“Maybe. If he wasn’t a lying sack of shit,” she muttered under her breath.

“Pardon?” I asked.

I’d heard her perfectly well, but part of me wanted to know more about this lying sack of shit boyfriend of hers. It certainly sounded like they were on the outs, if they hadn’t split altogether already. Which meant that there might be an opening.

“Nothing. Just that I don’t have a boyfriend,” she said. “And I have no intention of getting one either.”

She looked at me as she said it, her tone very pointed. Damn. Well, at least she knew what she wanted. Had to admire that.

“Now for the master bath –” she started to say, leading me through the empty bedroom to the door on the far side. “I was thinking –”

My phone rang, its shrill bleating echoing through the empty condo, cutting her off.

“Excuse me,” I said, seeing that it was my dad. He never called while I was meeting with clients, so it set off alarms in my head. “It’s the big boss, gotta take this.”

“No problem,” she said. “There’s a patio if you’d like some privacy.”

I nodded and stepped outside the sliding glass door and onto a deck that overlooked Manhattan from the 22nd floor of a luxury condo. I tried not to look down, even though the glass barrier surrounded me entirely. Floor to ceiling glass. Not much in the way of privacy – I could still see Chastity inside her place, looking at her phone and pretending not to see me – but at least I could talk without her hearing every word.

“Yes?” I said as soon as I picked up.

The last two times my dad called while I was meeting with a client, it was to tell me someone we both loved had passed. The first time it was Nate. And then, just last year, it was mom.

“We lost another client,” he said gruffly. “Went with Brenton and Sons.”

It was the third large client that month we’d lost that had gone with our competitor. It was bad news, but it really wasn’t the kind of life-destroying news that couldn’t have waited until after my meeting with Chastity.

“Is that all?” I asked.

“Son, I don’t think you grasp how serious this is,” he said. “We can’t afford to lose any more contracts. We need the work or we’re going to have to lay some folks off.”

My heart dropped. As much as I hated the construction industry, many of our guys depended on the jobs we’d provided.

My dad continued. “You still with Miss Childes?”

“I am,” I said.

After all this time, I finally knew her last name.

“Jordan, this has potential to be a huge contract. That woman is loaded,” he said. “No matter what it takes, you get it done. Got it?”

“Got it,” I muttered, glancing back in at Chastity.

I caught her staring out at me, but as soon as our eyes met, her cheeks flushed and she looked back down at her phone, turning away.

“I think we have a good chance, Dad,” I said. “It’s going well, so far.”

“Good job, son,” he said. “I’m counting on you. So are many others. Don’t let us down.”

Yeah, great. No pressure or anything.