Devotion - Billionaire Contemporary Romance Novel (8 page)

Chapter Four

Isabel walked off the platform of the “L” train and descended the stairs down to the street level.  She loved not having to rush in the morning.  She was always running late for work, trying to balance her need to spend a few extra minutes with Aidan over getting out the door and catching the train to downtown.  Her mother didn’t understand why she just didn’t drive to the office. 

“That demanding boss of yours pays you enough to have an expensive car and you never drive it,” Mrs. Alvarez complained every morning. 

But Isabel hated fighting the morning rush hour, and preferred riding the elevated Brown line train, where she could relax with her coffee and contemplate life and everything around her while winding through the city’s buildings and brownstones.  This morning, she had woken up next to her son, whose green almond-shaped eyes and elfin smile beamed back at her.

              “Good morning, Mommy.  I love you,” Aidan said with such sincerity that she wished he would stay four-years old forever.

              “I love you more.”

              “I stayed up last night for you, but you never came home.”

“I know, honey.  I had to work.  But now, I’m here the whole morning, and I’m going to make pancakes.”

              “With syrup?”

              “Lots and lots.”

              “Yummy.  Let’s go down stairs together, Mommy…”  He grabbed her hand and led her out of bed in a rush for the kitchen.

Eating pancakes and spending time with Mommy—such simple joys
, she smiled to herself as she strode along the harsh pavement streets and past dozens and dozens of anonymous faces.  She took comfort in the fact that it was Friday, and she had no other plans or commitments that weekend except spending time with the most important person in her life—her son.

              When she arrived at the lobby of the office, Lucy greeted her with a beaming smile.

“Heard you got the morning off.  Looks like you enjoyed it.”

Isabel stopped in front of Lucy’s receptionist desk.  “Pancakes with Aidan.”

“Ummm, hmmmm.  Sounds good,” Lucy clucked.  “You worked late last night?”

“Gala with Phillip. Opening of the Watercross Tower.”

Lucy chewed on the end of her pen and eyed Isabel.  “You mean Eliot Watercross? Doesn’t Phillip hate that man?”

“Yes,” Isabel sighed, sipping from her coffee.  “But we still have to go and work the room.”

“That Phillip…all work, work, work, and no play, play, play…”

Suddenly, the phone rang.  Lucy answered it, touching the side of her headset and changing over into her smooth receptionist voice.

“Phillip Spears & Associates?  Yes…may I tell him who’s calling?”  She paused and shifted her eyes up to Isabel. “One moment, please…”  Lucy placed the caller on hold, then dialed the extension. “Phillip has been asking about you all morning.”

“Has he scheduled an unexpected meeting?”

“No, girl…he just can’t do anything without you.”

Isabel rolled her eyes.  “Men love to pretend they’re helpless when it gets them what they want.”

Lucy nodded. “You know that’s true.  Unofficially—he wants you to know that he hasn’t been asking all morning if you’ve arrived yet. Those are
my
words.  Officially—you should take your time. 
His
words.  I found him this morning, staring at the copy machine, trying to find the START button.”

Isabel smirked, indulging in the image of Phillip in front of the copy machine, or anything mechanical. “I told him yesterday that Giselle is scared of him, so he likely didn’t want to ask for help.”

“Well, I rescued him. But I think he would have preferred you over me. Phillip’s got his pride.  You know how it is.”

“Yes, I certainly do.  Thanks, Lucy.”

“No problem.”

Isabel passed through the double glass door and strode through the open office towards her desk.  She set her coffee and purse down while peeking into Phillip’s executive suite. 
On the phone—as always
.  She stalled a few more minutes before entering his office to greet him.  Instead, she slipped off her coat and rolled through all her phone messages while logging into her computer.  Then, she noticed it.  There, partially obscured by a freshly copied lease contract, was a sleek silver gift bag adorned with a white satin ribbon.  Isabel glanced around the office.  The other girls were on the phone or typing on their keyboards.  Isabel felt her heart flutter as she sank into her chair, reached out for the bag, and secretly slid it into her lap.  She peered down through its tufts of white tissue paper and spotted the oxblood red box with its distinct gold engraving:
Cartier
.

Isabel touched her forehead.  She was perspiring. 
This is just the beginning
… 

She recalled the inscription from yesterday’s flowers.  Determined to avoid the flood of conflicted emotions she was experiencing right now, she had thrown them out with the garbage this morning, despite their full bloom and luscious scent.

Close the bag and don’t explore what’s inside it…

She closed her eyes and paused, considering all her options, including leaving the gift untouched in her purse until the end of the day when she would carry it home and deal with it—and its consequences—in the privacy of her own bedroom.  Her eyes fell upon the pink miniature envelope, just above the jewelry box.  She quickly unsealed it.

With the same strong black penmanship scrolled across a white calling card, it read: 
Tonight, I will treat you like a Queen.

  Isabel stared down at the card, her eyes passing over the words without repeating them—except one:
Queen
.  A paralyzing silence overcame her as she lifted the red leatherette jewelry box out of the bag into her lap and creaked open its lid. 

“Holy mother of God, what the hell is that?”

Startled, Isabel shut the box and looked up at Tami, attempting to scoot under her desk to conceal the gift.  But it was too late. 

“Seriously, did I just see what I think I saw?”  Tami adjusted her glasses and leaned in for an uncomfortable view of Isabel’s lap.

“
Shhhhhh
—” Isabel pushed her away and glanced into Phillip’s office. 
Still occupied with his phone call
.

“Don’t
shhhh
me,” Tami slung back.  “I freaking know Cartier when I see it, and holy mother fucking bananas,
that
is some amazing Cartier bling-bling.”

Tami and Isabel peered down on the necklace and its five brilliant oval-cut sapphires, surrounded by round-cut diamonds studs in a platinum setting.  Elegant, regal, and easily worth more than either of them made in an entire year.

“You look like you’re going to throw up,” Tami suddenly said.

“I might.” Isabel stood up and searched out her trashcan.

“No, no…” Tami rushed around her desk and consoled her. “No, don’t…especially not on the bling.  Just sit down and breathe and try not to—”

Isabel handed off the card to Tami, who silenced herself the moment she read it. “My God…”

“Sapphire is my birth gemstone,” Isabel added, looking up at her.  “Whoever sent it, he knows my birthdate, and he knows my favorite color is pink.”

“And he knows you’re in need of a really good fuck,” Tami added.

Isabel glared up at Tami, unappreciative. “Thanks.”

“Okay, you win.  It’s wicked weird,
but
—” Tami countered, trying to muster up enough empathy to win back Isabel’s attention, “—you and I both know you’ve been off the market for way, way,
way
too long, and so does your secret admirer.  Maybe this is just his way of telling you it’s time. Maybe tonight, it’s time to just let it all hang out.”

“No, absolutely not.” Isabel tried to control the horror in her voice. “And definitely not without knowing who he is before I let anything ‘hang out’.”

“Well, who do
you
think it is?”

Isabel felt the blood rush out of her cheeks.  She lowered her voice and traced the gold lettering of
CARTIER
on the leatherette box. “I can’t be sure, but I think it might be…” Isabel paused then made the leap. “Eliot Watercross.”

Tami gasped and covered her mouth. “Phillip’s mortal enemy?”

Isabel nodded. “I saw him last night.  We danced together in front of three hundred of his guests.  Phillip was not happy with me.”

“Clearly, Eliot Watercross was
more
than happy with you.”  Tami licked her lips and shimmied her body.

“How can you not find this all a bit unnerving?”

“Because it’s like you said: he’s someone who
knows
stuff about you.  Plus, there’s no creepy stalking sicko in the world who could possibly afford that kind of bling, which is why if you’re not going to let him woo you, worship you, and then fuck you, you should direct him to me.  I’ve got serious needs and they most definitely are going unfulfilled.”

Isabel rubbed her face and tried to avoid her own thoughts.  “I just can’t deal with this right now.”

“I think you can and you should,” Tami encouraged, lifting up the box and putting it back in Isabel’s hands. “You
deserve
to be treated like a queen, even if it’s only once, and even if it
is
by Phillip’s mortal enemy.”

“Tami!” Jett suddenly bellowed from across the hallway.  “I can’t find my nose hair clippers and I’ve got a one o’clock lunch date with Fifi Litzker.”

Tami rolled her eyes. “Such a Neanderthal.”

“And my nasal spray!”

“Coming—” she hollered back and started towards his office. “Seriously, Isabel…just go along with it for once in your life.  Whatever Mr. Billionaire Mystery Man wants from you, give it to him—even if it’s only one night.  But if not, text me, and I’ll gladly show up for you—sporting that amazing necklace and nothing else.  Maybe he’ll never know the difference.”

Tami winked and rushed away into Jett’s office.  Isabel glanced into Phillip’s office.  His eyes were fixed on her.  He had ended his call and motioned for her to enter.  She collected her pen and notepad and replaced the Cartier box back into the silver bag before slipping it into her purse.  She had no intention of following Tami’s advice, but unlike the roses, a diamond and sapphire designer necklace wasn’t something she could simply throw away. 

When she entered Phillip’s executive suite, she saw Norton Harrington, lounging casually in a side chair near the windows with his eyes closed and his head titled back.  Isabel stopped and peered at him—Norton was almost eighty-five years old.  His face and hands were withered like prunes and his frail frame sank beneath his grey suit.  For a brief paranoid moment, she studied him to ensure he was still breathing.

“Norton and I are discussing The Old Main Post Office,” Phillip said and nodded for her to take a seat. 

“Phillip is discussing it,” Norton retorted, sunning his face, completely uninterested in the topic. “I’ve already told him he’s a damn fool for wanting to restore it.  And now I’m being tortured by our merciless employer.”

Phillip smirked and rolled his fingertip across the glass surface of his desk. “Norton, you’re only one of a dozen people in the city who actually remembers it during its glory days.”

“And I prefer to take those secrets to my grave,” Norton said, ominously lifting up one eyelid.

“Rubbish.  If that were true, you would have retired ten years ago.”

Norton closed both eyes again. Despite his age, Norton was one of the sharpest, most knowledgeable actuaries with expertise in assessing development risk for vintage properties.  At any other firm, he would have been forced to retire when the booming real estate market favored investment in contemporary developments over historic preservation. But at Spears & Associates, Norton was one of Phillip’s most trusted colleagues, and one of his most valuable employees.

“Norton has seen the plans for its redevelopment—the ones we drafted last year. I’ve asked him to have a look again to render his opinion.”

“And…?” Isabel turned to Norton.

“And I think Phillip is mad as a hatter—as usual.”

Phillip swiveled in his seat, clearly amused. “But what do you think of the budget?”

Norton opened his eyes and shifted his listless gaze across the cityscape. 

“You paid two hundred thousand dollars for the property twenty years ago when the government officially shut its doors and put it up for auction.  You’ve already spent approximately fifty million dollars renovating its Beau-Arts marble lobby.  And now, you plan to spend three hundred million dollars more to fully redevelop it.”

“As a mixed commercial and residential development—with both retail boutique shops and affordable condominiums with the full amenities of expansive roof-top gardens, underground parking, and riverfront views.  An urban mecca of vintage living.”

“Hogwash,” Norton shot back. “It’s a three-million-square-foot blight on your balance sheet.”