Devotion - Billionaire Contemporary Romance Novel (17 page)

Phillip challenged him with his steady blue gaze. “I like control.”

“Well, we’re moving forward on our own new development project,” Symeon blurted out, as if he could barely contain himself. 

Phillip deliberately remained silent.  Symeon crossed the room and flopped down into the sofa the same way he always used to during their meetings.

“Yes, I’ve heard. You’re proposing to construct a floating iceberg in the middle of the Chicago River,” Phillip replied dryly.

“News travels fast,” Symeon grinned with obnoxious pride. “A floating iceberg with a casino
and
a three-story hotel, spa, and upscale boutique shopping center.”

“I didn’t realize that icebergs could be so luxurious,” Isabel chimed in.  Phillip glanced at her.  She couldn’t help the dig and he knew it.

“Luxurious
and
lucrative,” Symeon stressed.  “That’s why we’re seeking investors.”

Phillip’s eyes flicked upwards.  Isabel recognized the sudden spark of interest.

“So you are here to discuss business after all,” Phillip said, his mind churning with guarded thoughts.

The room suddenly fell silent—and waited.  Isabel watched Phillip’s eyes, tracking Eliot Watercross as he drifted to the expansive windows and peered out at the impressive view of the city and lakefront.

“Water recreation is big business in Chicago, Spears,” he said.  “And if there’s one thing that this town has plenty of…it’s water. Montrose Beach.  North Beach.  Monroe Harbor.  And then, there’s the Chicago River, winding through some of the most influential downtown buildings.  During the summer, this city’s waterways are like passages of gold that everyone aims to mine.”

Eliot turned his gaze out towards the massive cityscape and sprawling lakefront.  “But during the winter, everyone’s love affair with Chicago’s lakefront and riverfront fades away like a cruel lover after a one-night stand.”

Isabel shifted her gaze behind her, catching sight of him from the corner of her eye.  He turned into the streaming sunlight, his eyes seizing upon her like two sparkling gemstones.  “There’s only one way to find true love—true enduring love—for Chicago’s waterways, and that’s through year-round courtship.”

“Courtship,” Phillip interjected, “although romantic and alluring, does not guarantee a faithful heart.”

“But it does guarantee an invitation to explore the possibility of something more,” Eliot challenged him. “And that’s what we’re going to be offering to the City of Chicago.  A winter wonderland fantasy experience along Chicago’s magnificent waterways—year-round.”

“Except in the summer months,” Phillip countered with bite, “when your iceberg will melt.”

“Already got that covered,” Symeon gushed, like he couldn’t contain himself. “We’re working with naval engineers on CAD plans to turn the whole thing into a convertible riverboat casino during the summertime.  It’s going to be an aquatic recreational tourist attraction—on steroids.”

“Sounds like true love,” Phillip punctuated, keeping his gunfighter blue eyes squarely on Watercross.

Watercross smirked and noted the chessboard on Phillip’s desk.  “You’re a man of limited time and patience, Spears.  So we’ll jump right to the heart of it.  We’re seeking investment capital in exchange for partnership equity—preferred stock.  It’s going to be a very elite investment group—one that makes allegiances or divides them.”

“Yes, I can only imagine.  A floating iceberg has the potential to be supremely divisive.”

Isabel heard the sarcasm in Phillip’s tone—a mixture of blatant mockery and disgust.  She glanced back at Eliot.  His Cheshire smile sharpened with malice. 

“So you claim to have the capital for the renovation of The Old Main Post Office, but not the approval from the city officials.  Not yet, anyway.  It would be a shame not to be able to move forward with the redevelopment simply because one alderman received a large campaign contribution from your competition for wrapping up your permits up in bureaucratic red tape.”

“It’s a risk I’m willing to take,” Phillip lobbed back, impervious to Watercross’ veiled threat.

Eliot laughed with a spontaneous burst of confidence. “Which is why I like you so much, Phillip.  You’re determined to get exactly what you think you deserve—whatever the cost. Just like me.”

Suddenly, Isabel felt the pit of her stomach constrict as Eliot’s looming presence drift behind her chair.

“We’re proposing 400 South Wacker as the site for our new development.  Right across the river frontage of your development. I would hate to be forced to encroach upon your territory…”  Slowly, Eliot placed his domineering hand over Isabel’s shoulder.  She blushed as her entire body acquiesced to the sensation of his possessive palm, mastering her with the force.  It told her that she would not be able to liberate herself until he chose to release her.

Isabel lifted her eyes to Phillip, his gaze studying the flush of her cheeks and her uncharacteristic submission to Watercross’ touch.

“I have come to expect that from you, Eliot,” Phillip stated with a subtle frown. “And I am willing to simply govern myself accordingly.”

“Well, then…” Eliot suddenly said, casually abandoning Isabel’s shoulder as quickly as he had claimed it. “We should plan to discuss it more over drinks this Saturday at your gala.” 

He pushed forward towards Phillip’s desk, peered down upon his chessboard, and swept up Phillip’s dark queen with the white rook.  He strode towards the door, signaling the end of their meeting before turning back with a sly glance. 

“Oh, and one more thing, Spears—” Watercross abruptly called out, whizzing the chesspiece at him like a baseball pitch.  With flawless precision, Phillip snagged the queen with his open palm, but failed to replace it back onto the chessboard.  “Be sure to mark Symeon down as one plus guest.” His eyes flicked to Symeon.

“Marlow can’t wait to attend,” Symeon confirmed.  “She loves your galas and wouldn’t miss this one for the world.”

“See you soon, Bella.  Save a dance for me.” Eliot winked before whisking opening the door.

“Gentlemen—”Jett announced, bounding into Phillip’s office like an Olympic track star, dressed in a red and grey jogging shirt and matching athletic pants. “What’s going on?  No one invited me to the party?  I’m truly heart-broken.”

Jett extended his hand to greet Eliot and Symeon like dear friends.

“And truly in need of a shower,” Symeon joked, accepting his handshake while wafting away the scent of his sweat.

Isabel watched Jett round up the men and offer his own office as their next stop. 
Jett—the perfect politician
.  He never missed a networking opportunity, not even with the competition, and that was the reason why he was one of the most connected commercial real estate brokers in the city.  Jett always followed the scent of money, not the stench of the men behind it.

Isabel waited to speak until she saw the door completely close behind them, trapping her within the invisible walls of Phillip’s reflective silence.  She shifted her gaze onto him, waiting for his eyes to meet her own.   

“Phillip—” she petitioned him, an attempt to console the disquiet darkening his of aristocratic profile. But he did not acknowledge her.  Instead, he tilted up the marble chessboard with one surrendering hand, allowing all the pieces to haphazardly scatter off its checkered base.

He did not speak, and she knew better than to press him.  Slowly, she rose from her seat and escaped behind the familiar civility of their professional relationship. “I’ll send you the current invitation list for the gala and we can arrange a time to meet about approval of the final details…at your convenience.”

She turned away towards the door, but stopped when she noted two chess pieces at her feet.  She retrieved them—the bishop and the Queen—and laid them carefully on the surface of Phillip’s desk.

“You are the object of desire, Isabel.”

She turned and stared at him, unable to comprehend his words.  Phillip’s gaze remained fixed on the empty chessboard, but his words addressed her, unwavering and firm. “You are the object of Eliot Watercross’ desire.  And he’s willing to obtain you at all cost.”

Isabel parted her mouth to protest, but only felt the chilling freeze of fear escape her lips. “I don’t understand…”

She watched Phillip pause—a long, grave moment of silence before he swiveled away from her and rose from his seat, revealing the clean lines along the tapered waist of his Royal Oxford shirt, glistening white in the sunlight.  Silent and pensive, he gazed out through the windows, as if he was considering all the ways he had fought to preserve a city he considered his own.  His eyes settled on the iconic Willis Tower—one of the tallest skyscrapers in the world.

“The Sears Tower—one of the Chicago’s most iconic symbols of financial power—was renamed the Willis Tower, simply because the Willis Group moved in and leased more than sixty percent of its commercial space.  In this world—
our
world of commercial real estate—you are only as successful as your last business deal and only as powerful as the size of your bank account.”

He turned his elegant profile to Isabel and allowed the sunlight to glint off his cerulean eyes and cool winter complexion.

“Eliot Watercross needs capital.  I have always suspected that his real estate deals were built upon fraudulent financials, and one bad loan leveraged upon another bad loan does not build a real estate empire.  It builds a garish, but fragile house of cards.  When Watercross forged a business venture with Colovos, he believed—falsely—that he had secured all of Spears & Associates’ financial information, including access to our investors.  Now, he finally knows the truth.”

Phillip’s gaze shifted upon Isabel.  Their eyes locked. 

“The only other person—besides me—who has intimate knowledge of our balance sheet and the equity partnerships of all of real estate investors within all of our properties is not Symeon.  It is you.”

Isabel stared at Phillip, attempting to absorb the gravity of his confession.

“And that confidentiality has been something that Symeon has always resented, but I realized early on that he could not be trusted.  And it was the main reason why I forced him out of the company.”

Isabel peered at him in disbelief.  “I always assumed that Symeon left Spears & Associates because of his relationship with Marlow.”

“Marlow?”

“Yes, of course.”

“No, not at all. Marlow was simply a casualty, not the cause.” Phillip slipped his hands in his pockets and circled around his desk.  “When I first started Spears & Associates, I offered Symeon a minority equity stake in Spears & Associates with the agreement that it would be re-evaluated after five years of service.  Five years came last month.  Symeon is a brilliant architect, but an exceedingly reckless business partner, and as a result, I refused to offer him a greater portion of equity ownership in the company.  Rather than make him a full partner, I bought out his equity stake and forced him out.  That’s how he was able to turn around and purchase the Amway building from Harvey Zale—a complete squandering of his wealth because he grossly overpaid for the privilege of exerting his revenge against me.”

Phillip peered out far across the cityscape at its skyscrapers of concrete and steel, as if he was considering whether or not it was all worth it.

“Bringing Symeon Colovos into Spears & Associates as a minority equity shareholder was a mistake from the very beginning.  Fortunately, I realized my error early in our partnership, and restricted his access to the company’s most confidential contacts and financial statements. Instead, I slowly began sharing that information with you. And now, Eliot Watercross has just given me an ultimatum—either become an investor in his…floating iceberg,” Phillip punctuated with disdain, “or prepare to defend myself.”

“Defend yourself from what?”

“His conquest of you.”

A hush of silence whispered through Isabel’s chest.  She felt the sting of passion, still lingering within her body, and considered whether or not she had already been conquered.

“Phillip, you know I would never intentionally betray you.”

Isabel heard the word “intentionally” echo through her mind, and suddenly fell silent with guilt, wondering if she had just promised more than she knew she could honor.

“Yes, I believe that.  And yet, I cannot protect you from Colovos and Watercross, who are determined to make you their pawn in their ruthless game of greed.”

He looked away as a flash of pain spread across his face.  Isabel knew very little about Phillip’s personal upbringing or family, except that he had lost his father at a young age; but she suspected that his steely exterior and guarded emotions stemmed from a childhood fraught with instability and distrust.  It was rare for Phillip to betray anything but stoicism, but now, she could see him struggling…struggling to wrestle his swelling emotions.

“Isabel…” He suddenly said her name like a request for mercy. “I fear that I have unwittingly exposed you to the egos of powerful men willing to compromise you at whatever the cost.”

Isabel rose from her seat, motivated by Phillip’s disarming petition for forgiveness in his eyes.  She approached him at the window, determined to assert her own strength and independence.