Finally, with more effort than I anticipated it would take to detach myself from a preschooler, I hold her up in the air and hand her to Holt.
“You are a little rascal. Do you know that?” Holt asks her.
“That’s what Daddy Boonie says.” She smiles wide as she looks at my little brother. “Can I go see Helena?”
Boone grabs a notepad and a pen off his desk. “It’s Saturday, so Helena isn’t here. But you can go out into the hallway where you can spread out and draw her pictures.”
“Draw only on the paper,” Rosie says seriously.
“Only on the paper.” Boone nods. “Draw her something nice.”
“I’ll draw pics for Wade,” she sing-songs.
Rosie hops off Holt’s lap, grabs the notepad, and heads for the door. It doesn’t take two seconds until we hear everything Boone just gave her clamor against the floor.
I poke my head into the hall to ensure she’s okay. She smiles broadly back up at me.
“How do you deal with her energy all day?” I ask.
“She’s usually not here. That’s how,” Boone says with a laugh. “We had lunch with Dad today, and I needed to swing by here, so I brought her with me. Never again.”
I sit next to Holt. He gives me a curious look.
“What?” I ask.
“Nothing. It’s just always shocking to see you dressed in anything but a suit and tie.”
I roll my eyes. “I went for a run.”
“In the mud?” Holt laughs, chuckling.
“Fuck off.”
“How’d the meeting go this week with Bowery?” Boone asks, tossing me an I got you look.
I narrow my gaze. Despite my appreciation for the segue, I’m also concerned. Boone doesn’t do me favors without needing something in return.
But I don’t have time to consider that. I just came by my brothers’ office to grab a file that Eliza inadvertently sent to Oliver by courier yesterday.
“It went swimmingly,” I deadpan.
Boone’s smile falters. “You know—I’ve never understood that word. Swimmingly. What does that even mean?”
“Use context clues,” Holt says.
Boone looks even more confused.
“I don’t have time today to give you an English lesson.” I settle in my chair and rest my elbows on my knees. “About this Bowery thing …”
The back of my neck tightens.
“I agreed to do it today,” I say.
Holt relaxes against his chair. “Thank God.”
“No, thank me,” I mutter as I roll my eyes. “It’s going to be a massive pain in the ass.”
Dara Alden is a massive pain in the ass.
“And I’m not sure how I’m going to swing it.”
Or how I’m going to deal with her.
“But I did you guys a solid. You’re welcome.”
I don’t look at them. I’m not confident that they won’t see the hesitation in my eyes.
This morning when I left the house, I was going for a run to help me work out how to tell my brothers that I would have to pass on this job. The more I thought about Dara last night, the more it became apparent that it wasn’t going to work out. It was already taking up so much mental space, and it hadn’t even begun. How could I justify the hours, days—potentially months—that something as elaborate as I’m sure a Bowery home will require?
I can’t.
But I’m going to have to.
“At the moment, you’re just an architect who made a very weak first impression.”
I shake my head. She’s so full of shit.
“You still with us, Wade?” Boone asks.
I look up. “I’m still sitting here, aren’t I?”
“Do you wake up already programmed to be a dick, or is it a decision you make over breakfast?” Boone asks.
“It usually falls into place once I walk in the same room as you.”
He grins. Of course he does.
Holt chimes in about a job in Atlanta that Bowery floated Oliver’s way, and I tune them out. Let Johan work his magic on that one.
I roll my eyes.
Fucker.
My phone buzzes in my pocket as Boone circles back to his lunch with Dad. I take a quick look at the screen.
Bowery Enterprises.
My heartbeat picks up as I consider taking the call. If I ignore it, I’ll just have to call them back when I get out of here. Alternatively, if I take it now, I won’t have to wonder what it’s about and can get it over with.
“I’ll be right back,” I mutter and get to my feet. “This is Wade Mason.”
I open the door and slip into the hallway. I motion for Rosie to stay put and to stay quiet. She nods, happy to make me happy. Then I pace across the foyer and slide into Shaye’s vacant office.
“Wade, this is Curt Bowery,” a voice booms through the line.
“How are you, Curt?”
“Fine. Thanks for asking. You?”
“I’m great,” I say. Why the hell is he calling?
“Great. I wanted to reach out to you this afternoon and give you an opportunity to talk with me one-on-one about working with Dara. I know it’s an unusual setup for companies such as yours—and even more peculiar that I’m asking it almost as a favor from you. I’ve been chatting with Oliver, but it occurred to me last night that I should’ve called you myself before this point.”
“It would’ve been appreciated.”
He seems to consider this. He also doesn’t seem to know that Dara and I reached an agreement today.
In business, there’s no reason to show your hand until you have to. So I don’t mention it. Yet.
“Your work is admirable. Your creativity and attention to the smallest detail in your design is—”
“Curt, with all due respect, let’s cut the shit.” I pause, letting my words sink in. “We both know that you didn’t call to tell me what a genius I am. So let’s save us both the time and get to the point.”
He chuckles. “I knew I liked you.”
“You’d be the first.”
He sucks in a long breath. “To be blunt, and I hope this stays between the two of us …”
“Of course.”
“I’m looking to part ways with Oak and Moss. There have been a variety of circumstances that have transpired to get to this point, but it goes without saying that I’m uncomfortable with them working closely with Dara.”
Take that, Johan.
“You come highly recommended, and that’s not me talking out of my ass,” Curt says. “I’ve known your family for years. You are good people. Family men. I respect that.”
I pace Shaye’s office.
We are family men. The Masons have always put family above everything. But something about the way Curt is speaking—I’m not sure if it’s his tone or the words he’s choosing—but something doesn’t quite sit well with me.
I brush a streak of dirt off my shirt. “That’s good to hear.”
“Of course, the budget is whatever Dara needs,” he says. “I trust that you wouldn’t run up the bill just to run it up.” He laughs ruefully. “There’s more on the line here than just this project. I’m sure you realize that.”
“Someone said something about a project in Atlanta.”
“Well, yes. And I haven’t mentioned this to Oliver,” he says, “but I’m working with a few investors on a resort in Mexico. It’s going to be state-of-the-art. A one-of-a-kind. I was thinking, if things go well, that it might be an opportunity for Mason Limited.”
Ah, hell.