Chapter Eleven
Alistair
“Mm. Yes. Okay.”
I barely listen to the reels of information the analyst is presenting me with - via a video link through my tablet.
It’s nothing I haven’t heard before, from others who’ve taken exactly the same base information and simply spun it in a different way. I already have my own conclusions - but he doesn’t need to know that. Not yet. Even if this meeting is looking to be a complete waste of time.
I let my gaze drift around the apartment as I sit at the kitchen island, my mind drifting back to Friday night - and Saturday morning. Playing with my kid. Dancing around the apartment, wrestling with her and Leah.
Kissing Leah.
Right here on this stool.
I’m sure the guy on the other end of the conference notices my inattention, but he doesn’t say anything. Of course. If anything, he tries to attract me with bigger - largely exaggerated - numbers.
I hear my cleaner tutting to herself, and glance over in that direction.
Normally, I wouldn’t be here at this time - but since I have a meeting later on just around the corner, it made sense to work from my home office for the morning. Or it would have done, if I hadn’t kept glancing over at the piles of half-built blocks and collapsed toys that are still sat in the middle of my sitting room. Maddie seems to have a flair for building things.
I chuckle briefly at the idea of what my cleaner must have thought of those.
Then I hear the sloshing of the bucket she’s carrying as she sets it down. It isn’t until she pulls out the cloth that I realize what she was tutting about.
“No. Don’t.” I say, probably a little more sharply than I need to.
Both the analyst on my tablet and the cleaner look up at me.
I tap the tablet to put him on hold at the same time as I gesture to Maddie’s drawings on the wall.
“Leave them as they are.”
She looks at me like I’m being ridiculous, but also like she’s totally used to the eccentric demands of ridiculously wealthy employers, and shrugs.
I can’t even quite explain the impulse, but…for some reason, I don’t want to get rid of them. Leah might have been outraged at Maddie doing that - and I get it, I really do - but the little touches she’s added to the apartment already make me smile. The pile of toys. The writing on the wall. The pancake batter that I’m still finding in unexpected places.
“Yes, sir.”
I nod, then turn back to my interrupted meeting - flicking the tablet on again.
The guy I left hanging is obviously starting to look strained, but he makes an effort to clear his throat and tries to start again anyway.
I wonder whether I ever got that flustered?
I help him out.
“Sorry about that - private matter to take care of. Where were we?”
Apologizing. Explaining. Giving him another opening.
Totally unlike me.
I don’t usually have any sympathy for dealing with business people who can’t handle my moods, but today I actually feel sorry for the guy.
He gives me a grateful smile and picks up - unfortunately into the same diatribe I was uninterested in before.
But I hear him out, at least, and tell him I’ll give this new information proper consideration.
Never hurts to keep them interested in talking to you - occasionally it’s worthwhile.
Then I gather everything together, nod to the cleaner - take a last look at the scribblings I saved earlier - and walk out the door towards my meeting.
Which turns out to be largely another waste of my time, and it’s remarkable that by the time I make it back to the office I’m still in relatively good humor.
Being a large, public conglomerate might have opened us to exciting opportunities we didn’t have before - but it’s also tied us up in hundreds of meetings that look like they could be opportunities…and are actually gold-dusted shit.
When I walk into my office to see Barkley waiting for me, I feel that persistent good mood closing off, my expression turning neutral.
“Barkley.” I acknowledge, dropping my briefcase on my desk and starting to pull files out of it.
Since our altercation last week, we’ve been carefully cool towards each other - discussing only what we have to, and even then in clipped, professional tones. And I have no intention of changing that until I get a fucking apology.
Unfortunately, Barkley and apologies…
“Alistair.” His tone is even cooler than usual.
“Was there something we needed to discuss?” I ask, hoping he’ll get out of here soon.
“Yes.” He says abruptly, taking a seat in the chair opposite my desk and propping his feet up on it - a habit I’ve always hated - before steepling his fingers. He looks like some whacked movie villain - and I try not to think how apt that description feels right now. “I’m concerned.”
I mask a sigh, wondering why he can’t just come out and say whatever he’s talking about.
“Yes? What about?” I put the briefcase away and lean against the desk, raising an eyebrow.
It’s a silly power game - both of us taking positions to one-up the other, but it’s the sort of thing we’ve been playing at for years.
“You, Alistair.” He frowns up at me, genuinely seeming to care for one brief moment. “I don’t know what’s going on with you lately - or, rather, I think I know exactly what it is. And the business is suffering for it - you’ve been unfocused, and taking time off, and making bad decisions, Alistair.”
I stare at him for a moment, cutting off the way my blood wants to start boiling.
How dare he?!
But that’s not the way to deal with things like this - attempts to undermine me, or question my ability. We haven’t played this game for years. But my cold, calculating mindset snaps back into me in an instant.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
His expression hardens, but he still tries to take the understanding approach.
“Everyone has a few mornings like this, when they’re late in—”
“I was taking calls from home and had a meeting with Jameson.” I say coldly, then curse myself for slipping into that trap.
I don’t have to justify myself to him. I own just as much of this business as he does, and I don’t answer to him.
He uses it immediately, though, the condescension increasing. “It’s okay, don’t worry about it. You’ve been working flat-out lately, and if you need a bit of time, no one’s going to question it. But when you’re here, you should have your head in the game, Alistair—”
Says the guy who has been taking every Wednesday afternoon for the last eight years to play golf.
“Back off, Barkley.” It comes out as a growl. I’m done listening to this, or playing these stupid games. For some reason, I don’t have nearly as much tolerance for them as I did years ago. “If you have some problem - a real problem - then say it. Otherwise, get the hell out of my office.”
He swings his legs down off my desk, his eyes flashing at me.
Good. He’s riled up too.
“I do have a fucking problem, Alistair. You disappearing to see some stupid kid all the time is one thing - but I’m not going to stand here and let you make fucking bad decisions because you’re distracted to hell and back up some hussy’s skirt.”
My fists clench and I have to stop myself from tearing him a new one.
“Barkley.” I’m not sure I could put more frost into my voice if I tried. “We’ve traded insults for years, and I don’t give a damn what you say about me - but fucking leave my family out of it—”
“Family! That’s a joke.” He barks a laugh, shaking his head. “You’re deluded. Which is fine, screw up your personal life all you like, but the business—”
“The business is fine.” I say. “I’ve arranged more deals in the last week than any before it, and our projected quarter profits are up ten per—”
“And the fiasco with McCaffrey & Co? How do you explain your decision there?” His gaze narrows at me, tone turning angry - and I realize that whatever he’s talking about now is what’s really got him pissed him off.
I frown, confusion halting my own tirade for a minute.
I sorted that out on Sunday - calling up my contact there to try and understand what was going on with their results, only to find out it had been a simple accountant’s error. No real losses at all, and in fact the numbers look healthier than even our optimistic predictions. I would’ve thought that counted as a good result, even by Barkley’s standards.
“What are you talking about? Didn’t you get the memo - I sorted that days ago—”
“Yes, where your idea of sorted was to let that guy off with a warning!” His voice turns cold.
“It was a small error in the calculations, Barkley - no real damage done—”
“It threw our numbers off entirely. If those had gone out to the market—”
“Well that’s why we check the damn things.” I say, starting to get irritated again.
“It shouldn’t be our job to check them. That accountant should be out on his ass, and if this had been a month ago - that’s exactly what you would’ve done.”
I pause.
That’s what this is about?
“You’re pissed because I didn’t fire some guy you’ve never even met? Who works for the area I oversee, and knows those companies inside out?” I shake my head. “C’mon, we’ve all been working insane hours to transition to a public company, and we can’t hire people to help out quick enough at the moment—”
“I’m pissed because you’re going soft, Alistair. I can see it day-in and day-out - you come in here late, whistling and winking at the secretaries, cracking jokes in our investor meetings and letting people get away with shit that’s just plain unacceptable.”
“You have a problem with me being happy, Barkley? Because that’s sure as hell what it sounds like.”
“Contentment breeds complacency, Alistair. You used to be driven - hungry—”
“Unsatisfied and chasing after a diminishing thrill? Yeah, I know.” I snap, frustrated. “You were the one that reminded me only last week - we’ve made it now. New York City’s elite. You told me to enjoy some of it.”
“I meant go fuck a load of girls, drink too much booze - not start a daddy-daycare, for fuck’s sake.”
“We’ve always had very different ideas of what we like, Barkley. And we’ve always stayed the hell out of each others’ private lives.” I match his heated gaze with my own, stepping closer. “The business is good. Don’t fuck it up by pissing me the hell off and making this partnership untenable.”
“Is that a threat of some kind?” He sneers at me.
It wasn’t, but if he’s going to go there…
I give him a slow smile. “I’m sure you remember what happened last time we played that game, Barkley. If you want to come in here throwing your weight around, you better be ready to deal with the fallout.”
“Yeah. That was when you still had balls, though.” He shoots me another look, then picks himself up out of my chair. “Shape up, Alistair. This was the friendly warning. Fix your shit and we can forget all about this - but if not…you won’t get another one.”
He saunters out without a backwards glance, and I’m left seething.
Fucking asshole.
We haven’t clashed like this for a long time, but that doesn’t mean I don’t remember every little altercation. There was more than one occasion we almost called it quits altogether - but so far, being in business together has been too advantageous to give up entirely. And we have the same clients, the same suppliers, the same contacts all over town. Breaking up the business to feud with each other externally wouldn’t be good for either of us. So we’ve always kept those feuds internal instead.
But there are times…
I shake my head, then eventually flop down into my chair.
Going soft.
It’s a ridiculous accusation. He’s just pissed because for some reason, the idea that I have a kid - and that maybe I want to spend a bit of time with her - aggravates him. Not that it’s hard to get him riled up.
And he was talking shit.
You would’ve fired him a month ago.
That’s the only thing he’d said that had the slightest element of truth to it, and I consider it for a moment - consider the accountant, Johnson. He’s been good for us, for years. It was a simple mistake. Sure, the consequences of it were quite dramatic, but it would’ve been caught by someone else even if I hadn’t investigated. Everyone makes mistakes at some point.
I pick up a pen from my desk, spinning it between my fingers as I think.
He also has two kids.
I sigh.
Did that change my decision? Did Maddie - or, hell, Leah - change my decision?
I’m not sure what the answer is, but…since she’s come back, some things have been a little blurred. I’ll give Barkley that. I’ve been a bastard in business for years - and I know what she thinks of that. She made it very clear when she left.
But is it really a bad thing to be a little more tolerant?
I would’ve fired him a month ago. But if I’d thought it was truly a bad thing for the business to keep him around, I would’ve fired him now, too. As it is, I’m not sure it makes much difference to us. But it’ll make a hell of a lot of difference to him.
The rest, though…
Yeah, I’m happy. I’m enjoying myself. I’m enjoying the work we’re doing - and the downtime with my kid. But if he thinks that’s a bad thing, it’s only because he’s never known it.
I feel sharper and more focused - and I meant what I said about how many deals I’ve made in the last month. It turns out, cracking jokes and whistling seems to be a good way to make friends - and inspire confidence in how well things are going for you.
I consider it all for a good while - despite the way his attitude makes my blood boil sometimes, it’s always worth giving his words enough weight to judge them for myself.
And then I dismiss it.
Business is going well. I don’t regret anything I’ve done - or my attitude while doing it. And I know I’m performing well. I’ve always been my own harshest critic, and I didn’t come this far by letting myself get away with shit. If I can accept the effort I’m putting in, it’s good enough to take on the whole damn world.
If Barkley wants to challenge me on it…he’ll have a fight on his hands. It’s fucking bad timing, because the last thing I want to spend my time doing right now is dealing with his shit - but he knows how badly it’s gone for him in the past.
I nod to myself.
Suddenly discovering I have a kid is a shock - it changes things. But he’s not stupid - he never has been.
He’ll come around. He’ll adjust.
And until then…we’ll continue stepping carefully around each other.
I turn back to what I’d intended to spend my afternoon working on, and I’m surprised that the irritation I’d felt around Barkley disappears almost as soon as I stop thinking about him. It’s not nearly as hard to concentrate as I was expecting, and by the time I look up from it, most of the day has passed.
Unfocused, my ass.
I give a short laugh and get up to stretch - then head down to the private bathroom I have and shower, changing before I head out to meet Leah and Maddie. I finally bought something other than suits and shirts - after ruining every outfit I’ve tried wearing around her so far - and as I walk out of the office, I see Barkley glowering at me.
I give him a slow smile, enjoying his irritation, then wave as I leave. I doubt he’s ever seen me in anything but a suit.
But I’m meeting them at a craft place I found that I thought Maddie would like - and I just know I’ll end up leaving with paint all over me. I grin at the thought.
I haven’t seen them since the weekend, and I’m already missing Maddie’s sweet little face, her expressions and demands and childish imagination. And Leah…
Leah’s…well…everything about her, if I’m honest.
The evening goes exactly how I expected - a complete mess, a serious of giggles and laughter and childish glee, and Leah’s joyful expression as she encourages our little girl.
The way she looked at me when I walked into the place was enough to stop my heart, too - a surge of lust as she looked me up and down, not quite covered up. Enough to give me another reason entirely to consider changing my wardrobe.
It was all I could do not to greet her with a kiss, but I’d promised to take this slowly. At her pace. Even if I know she wanted that kiss - I could tell by the way her head tilted as I approached, by the slight tightening of her breath and moistening of her lips. So fucking sexy.
Even more so for being so out of reach. Damn it.
But there was Maddie to think of, anyway. And we had fun - the three of us, the way we have done every time I’ve seen them. And if Leah and I ended up leaning into each other a little more than was necessary - if my hand brushed hers a couple of times as I was reaching for things - well, that was all innocent enough.
Innocent enough, apart from the way it had my cock straining against my jeans a couple of times. Another advantage of not wearing suit pants, as it turns out - boners are far less noticeable.
I think she noticed anyway, though.
I grin at the thought.
I certainly noticed the way she was shifting on her chair a couple of times. And when I went under the table to pick up something Maddie had dropped…oh god, I wasn’t expecting to be confronted with that.
I could see right up her skirt - I have no idea whether that was even deliberate - and the tempting wet patch on her cotton panties made me desperate to crawl right up there. To taste her. Smell her.
As it was, all I could smell was paint. And there were far too many innocent souls around. But…god damn it. I wanted her.
I still do. Every moment and every breath. And as much as we’re talking about maybe and waiting to see and taking it slow…it’s none of those things. It’s an intense, building heat that feels like it might explode at any minute.
Technically, we’re still just friends. Except we were never friends. Co-parents. Except we still haven’t told Maddie who I am.
But we’re not lovers. Not yet, anyway.
We’re in a holding pattern, waiting for Leah to wake up and realize what’s right in front of her eyes.
But if she’s feeling even half of what I am right now…that won’t be long. Even she can’t have this much god-damned self control.
At least, at the end of the night, she finally accepted something from me.
“This is for you.” I’d said, for the second time.
And she’d looked at me - gaze full of suspicion again, not even taking the envelope. So I took it out for her - pressed it into her hand. A standard, run-of-the-mill, blue bank card.
“There’s $24,000 in that account. I worked it out. Four years of very average, mediocre child support payments. Not even close to what I actually would’ve given you if I’d known - or what any court would’ve required at my income level, but maybe something you’ll accept.” I’d given her a playful smile, and watched the rueful expression appear on her face. “Take it - it’s for Maddie.”
“You just don’t give up, do you?” She’d asked, but with one last hesitation, she’d taken the damn card.
I’d smiled and leaned in to murmur in her ear. “And I never will.”
She’d blushed, and I’d caught Maddie giving us some strange looks, so I’d stepped back and caught her hand, bowing over it in the extravagant, old-fashioned style.
“My lady.” I said, and that hadn’t helped with her blush at all.
Then I’d bent down and done the same with Maddie’s little hand. She’d giggled and looked up at me with the wonder only a little girl can show.
And then I’d said goodbye to them - and watched them walk away.
It seems like every time that happens, it gets harder. Like my heart is walking away with them.
Soppy and romantic, maybe - but hey, my little girl is bringing that out of me, it seems. And I’m not the slightest bit ashamed.
Not much longer. Then they won’t be walking away at all.
I tell myself as I walk home in the opposite direction. With the way things are building between Leah and me…I doubt either of us will be able to resist for much longer. And then…we can start the family that I can’t stop thinking of.
And in the meantime, I can’t think of anything better than this.
Spending my days in the office doing what I’ve always loved, and my evenings with Leah and Maddie - actually having something to look forward to outside of the business empire that is rapidly taking off.
I think of Barkley’s comments again, and this time I actually chuckle. After an evening with Leah and Maddie, our internal politics just seems ridiculous.
For once in my life, I feel content - not a rush of adrenaline, or a sharp thrill, or the high from closing some deal or buying some new toy. Just…like everything is finally starting to feel right.
Life is good. I’m doing exactly what I always have - getting everything I damn well want.
And not even Barkley can touch that.