16

Foster

I yelled after Ella and that’s when I knew she’d heard me. When I saw her standing in my living room dressed in her clothes, I had a feeling she’d heard at least some of my conversation. Depending on how long she’d paid attention, she probably heard numbers that made her spine shiver. Numbers that were at least twenty thousand dollars over what we’d originally agreed upon for the remodel. That was the deal I’d cut with the tenants: they wouldn’t pay for the entire space, just the money it would take to remodel to their specifications. With all the amenities they could tack on, the update itself could cost them upwards of sixty thousand dollars.

I didn’t feel the need to charge them for anything else because of the rest of the building we could sell for profit.

But, the moment she dashed from that elevator and didn’t stop at my voice told me she’d heard. She’d heard everything, and she was probably scared. Every part of me wanted to go after her. Every atom of my being reached out for this woman who had entranced me so much. I’d taken her in every way I had only imagined up until this point. I had the imprint of her body pressed into the glass of my home while her juices stained my hardwood. That room would smell like her for weeks, greeting me like an old friend every time I got back home from work.

The issue was, I wanted the scent to be connected to her. I didn’t just want her memory, I wanted her body. I wanted her dreams and her passions. I wanted to hold her close to me and wake her up with my tongue between her legs. I wanted to go to every show she performed just so I could cheer her on from my shadowed perch.

I wanted to comfort her in her time of worry and fear. I wanted to let her know that I wouldn’t allow her to lose her home. That I’d do everything within my power to make sure nothing was stripped from her that didn’t need to be. She was a beautiful woman. Full of life and passion and power beyond her years. Her ruby red lips might tug at my cock, but her voice and her eyes tugged at my gut.

I had to get into the office. If I had any hope of helping her out the way I wanted to, I couldn’t go after her.

And that dichotomy fucked with me all the way into my office.

“Holy shit, Foster. You’re finally here,” Dave said.

“If you call me by my first name one more time, you’re fired,” I said. “Now, why the hell can you not figure this out with the financial team?”

“We won’t turn a profit off those condos if we sell them to them only for the work we’ll put into them. For some, we might even lose money.”

“Alright. We still have 60 percent of the fucking building to sell for as much fucking profit as we want. What’s the big deal?” I asked.

“The big deal is the investors aren’t going to invest if they’re only going to turn a profit for 60 percent of the building. They might as well only give you 60 percent of their original investment offer!”

“That’s what they said to strong arm you, Delilah!”

“Oh, we’ve gone into girl’s names now?” he asked.

“You’re acting like one. You’ve been my project manager for six years, and you mean to tell me you can’t handle a boardroom full of fat, rich, whiny white men?”

“You won’t turn a profit,” Dave said. “Do you not understand that?”

“Not everything is about profit, Dragonlord!” I exclaimed. “Sometimes it’s just about doing what’s fucking right!”

The entire accounting floor was stunned silent at my outburst. And, honestly? I was, too. My father was a money-driven man and passed down onto me that same mindset. If it didn’t make him money, then it wasn’t worth his time. The issue was, the building would still turn a profit on 60 percent of the building. It’s just that we could also do something wonderful for the community in the process.

“New York City is dying,” I said. “It’s dying and it’s taking all the lower income households with it. The families who raise three kids in a one-bedroom apartment just so the father can chase after his dreams. The four roommates residing in a studio apartment just so they can work off their student loans before going to some university around here and digging themselves into more fucking debt. We come in with our wrecking balls and scream at them to move before we bulldoze their lives. We erect taller, nicer buildings that are more out of their price range than ever, then we expect them to just find another place to stay. Where the hell’s the fairness in that?”

I drew in a deep breath before I looked around the room. Eyes were wide and some were filled with admiration, but mostly they were simply full of confusion. Someone in the corner was furiously pressing buttons, so I pointed over into that corner and told them to speak.

“You. There. What’re you crunching?” I asked.

“Numbers, sir.”

“Obviously. What numbers?”

“Numbers for your project, sir. I think what you’re trying to do is wonderful, so I wanna see how much money you’ll lose and if the figures are accurate.”

“When will you have those figures?” I asked.

“Give me thirty more seconds.”

I watched as a man with a child’s overgrown face quickly rattled his fingertips over the calculator’s keys. Numbers were flying up on screen while his eyes darted around a desk, and the entire time I could hear the blood rushing through my head. This was my chance to save Ella’s home. This was my chance to turn this company’s public presence around.

This was my chance to take a stand for the city my father loved.

The city I’d come to love when it embraced me and comforted me after his death.

“According to these numbers, if you don’t sell the 40 percent of the condos at retail price and only sell them at the mid-range remodeling price of the originally agreed upon forty thousand dollars, you’ll lose four thousand on each condo, which will amount to one hundred thousand dollars of lost profit. But, with the numbers currently running through my head-”

“Don’t do it in your head. Type it out and give it to me,” I said.

“With the numbers I’m currently typing out,” he said as he began to type, “if you redo the rest of the condos and sell the ones with better views for ten thousand more than you were originally intending, you would recoup double that money, so you’d actually be one hundred thousand dollars in the clear if you sold everything for an even profit.”

“But obviously, we aren’t gonna do that because we aren’t completely stupid,” I said.

“The board’s never gonna go for it,” Dave said, shaking his head. “You know how they are.”

“Then I’ll fucking pay the one hundred thousand out of my own pocket.”

“What?”

“Yeah. That’ll be my investment into my own company. One hundred thousand dollars, I’ll take a bit more personal stock in the company for my investment, and that’ll make the board members happy.”

“Mr. Dobson-”

“DeAngelo, what the fuck is the problem? Bradley over here-”

“It’s actually Anthony, sir.”

“Anthony over here gives me proof that we’ll actually be more than fine, you tell me it’s shit, so I offer to pay the fucking difference and you still tell me it’s shit. So, you’ve got one shot. Give me the best reason you’ve got for shitting on both of those ideas. If your reasoning isn’t good enough, you’re fired.”

I stood there and watched him sweat while he flipped through his papers. His brow was beginning to shine and I watched him while he shuffled from foot to foot. I was done with him. I wasn’t sure what the hell was happening, but it didn’t smell good to me.

Not anymore.

“You’re fired, Dave,” I said. “Anthony, you want a job?”

“I already have a job, sir.”

“It comes with a raise. And benefits. And a 401(k). I’m sure you’ve got student loans. You got student loans?” I asked.

“Yes, sir. Tons of them.”

“Paid off if you wanna be my project manager,” I said.

“Take the damn job, Anthony,” someone said.

“It’d be an honor to take the job, sir.”

“Wait, you can’t just-”

“Dave,” I said as I turned to him. “Someone will contact you over the next week to introduce to you your severance package. It will be fair and I’ll negotiate an entire year’s worth of salary. I’ll help you cash out your 401(k) and move any other policies you have. We’ll make this a smooth transition. But, something doesn’t smell right with you anymore. For some reason, I feel like you’re intentionally trying to strong arm me into doing something I don’t want to do, and as the owner of this company you need to understand that you don’t run the show. Go home. Someone will contact you before the weekend.”

“But, Mr. Dob-”

“Get the fuck out of my building, Dave,” I said.

All I wanted to do was lay in bed with Ella all day. All I wanted to do was dive between her legs and never come up for air. I just wanted one day to myself-- to have everything I could have ever wanted.

And I had it, right there in my arms. Leaning ass naked next to me in the middle of my living room floor.

Then this fucking project had to go ruin it.

“Anthony,” I said.

“Yes, sir?”

“I’m gonna go work on your promotion paperwork. In the meantime, on the top floor there’s a boardroom full of fat white men who are waiting for me to make an appearance. You’re good with these numbers. Take these options to them and see which one they like. Then, if they don’t like the options, tell them I’ll be paying the difference out of my pocket. Don’t give them an option, just tell them it’s happening. They don’t run this show anymore than Dave did,” I said.

“On it.”

“Call me and let me know how it goes. I’ve got somewhere else I have to be.”

“But, I don’t have your number,” he said.

“Toss me your phone.” I entered my office number and my cell number into his phone before I placed a call to H.R. I told them what happened and all the paperwork that needed to be processed, then I promised them a long weekend if they could get it all processed before the end of the week. By the time I turned back around, Anthony was gone and people had resumed their normal working activities.

Good. Now I could focus on the next task at hand.

Getting Ella back.