Devotion - Billionaire Contemporary Romance Novel (3 page)

“I think sometimes things are less obvious when you’re not ready or willing to acknowledge them.” Gary shifted his brief case from his right hand to his left, and traced the edge of one of the rose petals with his finger. “Phillip is very lucky to have you.”

He kept his steady eyes on her.  Gary had shown his interest in her before but never with this much unguarded intensity.

“From a secret admirer?” he suddenly asked, as if he was noticing the bouquet for the very first time. 

Isabel gazed at him, searching for a sign that he was its sender.  But Gary betrayed nothing more to her.  Instead, the light in his honey-glazed eyes fell flat as he scanned the flowers before turning away with a polite nod.  “Looks like someone has upstaged us all with his admiration.” 

He headed down the corridor towards the glass doors. “I meant what I said about treating you to that six-star dinner.  We can share dessert.”

“I usually prefer my own,” Isabel lobbed back. 

“Noted.” Gary glanced back with a flirtatious smile and cavalier salute before disappearing through the office’s the double doors and into the lobby. 

Tami slurped on her latte and followed Gary out of the office with her eyes.  “Holy hot-litigator-on-a-popsicle.  What the heck was that all about?”

Isabel lowered her smile and nodded to the flowers.

“Ge-e-e-e-et. O-o-ut!” Tami sucked down her iced latte like a caffeine junkie trying to stabilize the highs and lows of her addiction. “You told me they were from a client!”

“Shhhhh,” Isabel silenced her again. “I don’t know…I mean, maybe.” 

Isabel hesitated before pulling out the card from her skirt pocket and handing it over to Tami.

“
This is only the beginning
…” Tami read aloud.  “
Ouuuuhhhh
, totally crazy witchy mysterious.” She shivered, as if she finally had absorbed the chill of her iced latte, then peered enviously at the roses.  “I kinda wish I had somebody sending me flowers.  Or expensive chocolates.  Hell, at this point, I’d even settle for some scented hand lotion and a naked selfie.” 

“Now
that’s
creepy.”

Tami shrugged.  “Not for me…I’m old and desperate.”

“You’re thirty-four,
Tami.  That’s hardly old, and I seriously doubt you’re that desperate.”

“You’re completely missing my point, Miss Long-Stemmed Roses.  I am absolutely that desperate because I’ve got exactly zero prospects.  Count them—zero.  You’re barely thirty and at least you’ve got flowers.”

Tami touched one of the rose petals like she was truly heartbroken.

“Well, you’re not completely out of luck,” Isabel teased. “Jett gives you nice gifts on a weekly basis.”

“What, like basketball tickets?  Oh, no…you mean the Hilary Clinton bobblehead,” she snorted sarcastically.

“It’s his way of showing his professional affection for you.”

“To hell with professional affection. I’d gladly settle for some non-professional affection from someone, anyone—
trust
me.  I’m telling you: hand lotion and a naked selfie.  He doesn’t even need to include his face.”

The sound of sudden banging filled the office.  Giselle, the intern, was at the copy machine, attempting to unjam the jam.

Tami rolled her eyes. “Oh, good Lord, she’s beating the copy machine again.”

“Go help her…please.”

“
You
help her, Isabel…I’m just the crotchety sexless secretary spinster, remember?”

“Tami—please…”

But Isabel knew it was fruitless.  Tami had already spent every shred of civility dealing with Jett.  She couldn’t be forced to be nice to the helpless intern, too.

“Look—” Tami nodded into Jett’s office.  Both women spotted Jett, adjusting his position in his swivel chair in order to gain an unobstructed view of Giselle at the copy machine—and her over-extended backside.

“Facebook time.” Tami typed through the air and skated back to her desk like she was the busiest assistant in the office “Thank you, thank you, thank you, clueless sex-pot intern Giselle.”

Bang, bang, bang…

Isabel watched Giselle open and shut trap doors on the copy machine—again and again.  Her tight skirt stretched over her curvy backside as she bowed forward and peered between the drums and rollers like she was investigating under the hood of a car.  Isabel spotted Jett, leaning back into his swivel chair, enjoying the show. 

Neanderthal
.  Isabel quickly swept into Jett’s doorway and closed his door, shutting out his voyeuristic view.  Then, she walked over to Giselle and offered her assistance.

“Here…you usually have to open the lid and lift up this...” Isabel flipped up a small lever and pulled out a crumpled piece of jammed copy paper.

“Oh my God, thank you so much.  How did you know to look there?” Giselle peered into the drum spool like she was expecting to see a magical gnome pop out.

“Years and years of practice.”  Isabel closed the lid and restarted the machine with a vibrant purring hum.  “There, all better.”

“Thank you, Miss Alvarez.”

Isabel looked at Giselle, disarmed by her formal use of her surname. “You’re welcome, Giselle. Anything else can I help you with?”

Giselle hesitated, her eyes glancing back at Phillip’s closed door.

“C’mon on, don’t be shy…you’re still new here and I would be happy to help you.  What is it?”

“Well, it’s just…Mr. Spears told me this morning that I slouch too much and that I needed to practice my posture.”

Isabel tried hard not to break into a smile. “Giselle, try to remember: Phillip is English.  If he had his way, everyone would be forced to stroll around the office on their tippy-toes, balancing copies of the
Encyclopaedia Britannica
on their heads.”

Giselle released a burst of laughter from her glossy pink lips.  Isabel noted her blue neon mascara and low-cut blouse.  She was so young, so incredibly naïve and so inexperienced, it was almost too painful.  At least Isabel had the benefit of being in her mid-twenties when she had started working at Spears & Associates.  In her mid-twenties—
and
pregnant.  She silently cringed, remembering how hard it was for her, too.

“Anyway, Phillip’s just testing you,” Isabel reassured her. “He does that with everyone.  When I started working for him, he told me I needed to cut my hair because I was always playing with it.”

Giselle’s crystal eyes widened with horror. “Oh my God.  I would have died.  What did you do?”

“I left the office during my lunch hour, walked into the nearest salon and got my hair cut past my ears.  It was the worst haircut of my life.  The next day, Phillip said nothing about it—
nothing
.  Instead, he gave me a raise and promoted me from my position as the office copy clerk to his executive assistant.  It took me almost two years to grow my hair back, and Phillip has never dared to ever say anything about it since.”

Giselle touched her long blonde hair, as if she feared it might face the same drastic fate.

“Don’t worry.” Isabel noted her concern.  “Here’s the secret to working here—just focus on being professional and try not to let anyone intimidate you.”

“Okay.  Thanks so much, Miss Alvarez.  Oh, and by the way…I love the bouquet of flowers you received this morning.  Those Chihuly vases are my favorite.” Giselle eyed the iridescent blown-glass vase shaped like a swan, complementing the beauty of the blush pink bouquet.

Isabel peered at Giselle with curiosity.  “You’re familiar with them? ”

“Oh sure.  They’re a signature thing from the flower shop just down the street on Washington Avenue.  I worked there all last summer as a flower arranger.  The Chihuly vases are in limited supply—only available to customers who purchase three-hundred-dollar bouquets. Somebody must be sending you a really special message.”

“Isabel—” Phillip’s stern voice hollered out of his office.

All the assistants looked up from their work and turned their attention onto Isabel while Giselle shot her a glance of concern.

“
Encyclopaedia Britannica
,” Isabel reassured her with a playful wink before whisking down the hallway. “Coming…”

Isabel slipped into Phillip’s office.  “You rang?” she chirped, knowing she was going to have to compensate for his foul mood after his phone call with Harvey Zale.

“Close the door.”

She obeyed and took a seat across from him.

“Sooooooo… how did it go?”

“Better than he expected,” he replied without offering more.

“Really?” There was surprise in Isabel’s voice.  Phillip noted it with his cool blue glare. 

“Yes.  Zale expected me to tell him to piss off the moment he offered the barter—taking The Old Main Post Office off my hands in exchange for not re-assigning the Amway deal to Symeon Colovos.”

“And…you didn’t?” Isabel was fishing; she wasn’t expecting to see that familiar valiant glint in Phillip’s eyes that told her he hadn’t lost.

“No, I did not. I told him to go ahead with the reassignment.  And then, I agreed to sell him The Peoria as well.”

“The Peoria?” Isabel repeated in shock.  “But why?” 

“Because you are right about my ex-business partner.  Symeon Colovos is getting his revenge against me.  The Amway building was our first purchase as business partners.  He’s maneuvered himself into the Amway deal because he’s sending me a message—we’re no longer business partners and now he’s my competition.”

“He’ll never be your competition, Phillip, because he doesn’t have your integrity.”

Phillip peered at her as if the unexpected compliment had interrupted his chain of thought. “Perhaps.  But in the end, it doesn’t matter because he’s going after something that I’ve decided that I no longer care about—winning at all cost.  Norton is right.  There’s a cost to engage in the fight, Isabel.  And I’m no longer interested in paying the price.”

Isabel watched Phillip shift his eyes away from her and out the window.  Like a Roman statue, he sat powerful and motionless in his shale grey Valentino suit—a man who had built up an indomitable real estate empire, and yet, his distant eyes were filled with discontentment.  She rarely saw him express anything other than measured propriety and British reserve, but in that moment, she sensed things had changed.  He was a different man with different priorities. 

“Gary is right. Symeon Colovos will get The Amway through the reassignment from Zale. There’s no way around that now,” Phillip said, flat and emotionless. “But it doesn’t mean I have to be a pawn to his rook.”

Like a reflex, his gaze fell onto the marble chessboard resting on the edge of his desk.  Isabel knew he loved the game of chess because he loved games of strategy.  But everything seemed different now, and there was no reading him.

“But I still don’t understand why?” she pressed him, carefully.  “Why not simply get rid of The Old Main Post Office instead to keep Zale from reassigning The Amway to Colovos?”

Isabel watched the light shift in his eyes with disarming honesty.

“Because The Old Main Post Office has great sentimental value to me.  It was my very first commercial purchase after I graduated from university here in America.  And I’m not ready to give it up—yet.” Phillip lowered his gaze, as if his confession made him vulnerable and uncomfortable. “Perhaps I am simply a hopeless romantic, but I have recently come to realize that there is only one truly valuable ideal in life and that is kindling something productive, something meaningful—perhaps even something priceless—from nothing more than a hope that has long since been discarded or abandoned.”

When he finally looked up at her, he held her gaze to ensure that she heard him. 
Truly heard him
.  This was not a conversation with the same unyielding, competitive man who she had known for the past five years.  This was an introspective conversation with a conflicted man who seemed to want to convey how much he needed a change in his life.

Without warning, he suddenly sat straighter in his seat and sharpened his British accent, as if he realized he had let his guard down too much. “The Old Main Post Office is a classical piece of history, and it deserves a better fate than to be gutted out by some real estate wanker like Harvey Zale seeking discounted riverfront footage.  When I look at something like The Old Main Post Office, I see a lost treasure, marred by the greed of modern life threatening to destroy it.  In a world that values so little and disposes of so much, there are few untouched gems like The Old Main Post Office left in the world.  And I am determined to protect it.”

“I think it’s a worthy endeavor, Phillip.  I had no idea that The Old Main Post Office meant that much to you.”

He circled his finger along the surface of his glass desk, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Many things mean more to me these days than I dare share…” 

He rose from his chair and paced across the polished hardwood floors. “The Amway deal will go through with Zale as planned, and he will reassign it to Colovos.  But Zale will also buy The Peoria from me, and then, he will turn around and flip it Isbon or McCallister or Weiss or any one of the other sharks looking for their next meal in the pond.  Any of them will be more than willing to overpay for a prestigious building like The Peoria, and in turn,
they
will compete against my ex-business partner for potential tenants.  But not I.  I’m tired of the misery of it all.  Let them all be miserable together.  I simply want a bit of peace.”