Bad Girl Page 5

  Halfway to the kitchen, the doorbell rings. The courier at the door presents me with a large box and two big envelopes. The envelopes are work related, but the box is my gift. Maybe this will grease the wheels, so to speak, and get Leila to open up.

  I carry the package into the kitchen and lay it on the counter. Leila gives me a bright but very fake smile.

  “Sandwich?” she asks, gesturing toward the bread and mayo and meat in front of her.

  “How about you hold off for a moment and open this.” I nudge the box closer to her. She stares at it in apprehension. “It’s not going to bite you, I promise.”

  She still doesn’t move, so I slice off the tape and push aside the cardboard flaps. I lift out a large wooden case and place it in front of her.

  “All work and no play can make Leila a dull girl,” I tease and remove the lid. Nestled inside a silk lined cavity are the pieces of a chess set made out of pink and black marble. I gently tug the pink queen from her resting spot. “Only the best for the queen of chess.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Leila

  I stare down at the chess set, and my heart starts to pound. I run my sweaty palms down my thighs, trying to figure out how I’m going to get the hell out of this. A pang of guilt that I shouldn’t feel hits me.

  “It’s beautiful,” I admit, taking the queen from him. Why the hell did Chris have to put this on my stupid made-up resume? I know absolutely nothing about chess. It doesn’t usually take me long to pick up on things with my memory, but on this, I have no freaking clue. I’m going to have to distract him so that he doesn’t realize I have no idea what I’m doing.

  I don’t even know the name of half the pieces, let alone how to play. I try to search my brain to see if I’m able to recall a moment of someone else playing near me. If I could only remember, I could at least pick up some pieces and pretend, but I’m drawing a blank at every turn.

  “I figured only the best for someone with your skill set.”

  “Right.” I put the queen back down on the counter. “So sandwich?”

  He gives me a curious look. “I thought you’d be more excited. You don’t want to play?”

  “With you?” I smirk. “That would be like shooting fish in a barrel.”

  “I don’t mind losing. Especially to the best.” His smile is genuine. He’s so different than I thought he’d be. He doesn’t let his ego get in his way. I’ve noted that a lot with him. Even yesterday after what we did, he hadn't pushed or gloated over it. If it wasn't for the past or the things I know about him, I think I could actually fall for him. But I do know.

  “Maybe tonight.” I shrug, picking up my sandwich and taking a bite.

  “Why not now? You could teach me a few things. I haven't played in years.”

  “I said I don't want to,” I snap, not meaning to. His brows lift in surprise at my outburst. “Sorry.” I mumble. I really wasn’t prepared for any of this.

  “Leila,” he starts, but I cut him off, giving him something else to focus on.

  “I didn’t get to meet my father. He passed before I got the chance.”

  Warren leans back in his chair, his focus finally off the chessboard and on me. “I’m sorry to hear that. How long ago?”

  “Months. I missed meeting him by months. He killed himself and never even knew I existed.” He reaches out, placing his hand over mine. I quickly jerk my hand back. “My mom didn’t tell me about him. I only found out after she died when I was going through some of her things.”

  “Do you wonder why she might have not told you about him?” Yes. All the damn time. For so long I thought it was because he didn’t want me. But according to Chris, that wasn’t the case. There had to be a reason why my mom kept me away. Sometimes we could barely make ends meet, but she never reached out to him for anything. Not even child support. Before he’d lost it all, it seemed my father was more than well off.

  “It wasn't her decision to make.”

  “You’re right. I think as a partner these things can be difficult.”

  I nod in agreement. “I hate that I’m angry with her right now. It’s not what I want to feel when I think about her.”

  “There is nothing I could say that will make you feel better, sweetheart, but I’m sure your mom had her reasons. But you have the right to be mad, and I’m guessing she’d understand that.”

  “You’re right.” I nod. She would have.

  “You won’t stay mad. You’re still working through it, but one day you’ll think of her and that anger won’t be there.”

  “I’m not sure that day will ever come,” I admit. “All I ever feel is anger. It’s consuming.”

  “Would you like me to look into your father? See what I can find?”

  “No!” I went too far. “Don’t. It is what it is.” Warren starts to stand to come over to me. “I need a second.” I dart past him, quickly heading down the hallway to escape to the bathroom, where I can lock myself inside and get it together.

  Why in the hell did I tell him all that? Once I opened my mouth, it all came spilling out. He sat there actually seeming concerned for me. I turn the water on and begin washing my face. I will not let myself cry. I have a mission to complete, and I need to focus on that. I can’t allow Warren to keep distracting me.

  When Chris found out I was here with Warren, he was fucking over the moon. He’s pushing me to get closer to him. Problem is, it’s Warren that’s getting close to me. It pissed me off too that Chris wanted me to use my body as a weapon. I’m not a damn temptress.

  It doesn't mean I can’t get information still from Warren without that. I pull out my phone and text Chris. I should have done it hours ago. Why I didn’t, I have no clue. It might even be too late at this point.

  I fill him in on the Park Hill deal. I pull the saved file and attach it before I delete any trace of the information off my phone and put it in my pocket. Guilt is starting to eat me alive.

  It’s seeping in from all around me. Guilt for my father and not staying on top of my game. Guilt for what I might be doing to Hugo Reality. Warren said it used to be his father’s. And to my surprise, the part I feel the worst about is the fact that I’m betraying Warren. I shouldn’t have any guilt over it, but I do. No matter how many times I reassure myself that I’m avenging my father’s death, the guilt still remains.

  I grab a towel to wipe off my face. The only time the guilt and anger aren’t trying to consume me is when Warren has his hands on me. The control he had over my body felt good. It was freeing. I could let everything go for those few moments and bask in the pleasure.

  I want more. I’m sure I could have it, get my fill and bide my time, but it makes me feel cheaper than I already do.

  The problem is, I’m not sure I could ever get my fill. I’m always going to want so much more.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Warren

  Leila looks pale. I thought her refusal to play chess was odd, like she’d had some negative experience and now associates the game with bad memories, but maybe she isn’t feeling well.

  It’s been a stressful few days, I guess. Not everyone is fueled by pressure. It’s time to get her out of this house.

  “Do you have a jacket? It’s only around sixty, and I’m going to bring the convertible out. It can get cold.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “For a drive. There’s a property I recently bought, but it needs a lot of renovations and build outs for the new commercial tenants. I want to go check up on the progress. Call it a business field trip.”

  She wrinkles her nose in distaste. For a finance exec, she really doesn’t have much interest in how the sausage is made. Most of my numbers people would jump at this on-site evaluation, if only to tell me that my numbers were bad.

  “I’ll buy you ice cream on the way.”

  Leila runs over to get her jacket. “I want a large.”

  “Large what?” I amble behind her.

  “Large of whatever it is that we’re o
rdering.”

  It turns out she likes chocolate dipped strawberries blended with ice cream. She has good taste. It’s delicious. I make her feed me since I’m driving.

  “Large is not big enough when I have to share it.” She pouts. “Here, have some more of your toffee one.”

  “It’s not as good as yours.”

  “You should’ve ordered mine then.”

  “Noted. Next time.”

  “How long do you plan to keep me locked up in your house?” she teases.

  “Oh, forever.” And I don’t laugh. Not even when she continues to giggle. She’ll come around though. Everyone comes to my way of thinking eventually.

  Maybe it’s the sunshine or maybe it’s the convertible, but she opens up a little on the way to the D1 Tower project. She tells me about her mother and missing her. She admits my digs are better than the long-term motel room.

  “Your microwave doesn’t take five minutes to cook a sixty-second burrito,” she says.

  “That’s good. That thing ran me three grand.”

  “Three thousand dollars for a microwave?” she yelps.

  “Hey, it does other things too.”

  “Like what?”

  I shrug. “Who the hell knows.” I swerve into the curved drive and park in front of the lobby. Construction is going strong. I nab a couple hard hats from the back seat and plop one on her head. “It’s what we put in all the units. High end all the way.”

  “The microwave should assemble the burrito and then cook it at that cost,” she mutters.

  “If you find an appliance that does that, let me know. We could make a killing.” I hold open the lobby door and usher her inside.

  “How did you get into commercial real estate? You said your dad was mostly residential?”

  “Yeah. He had a buyer who owned this four-door strip mall—'doors’ is how we talk about rentals. If a unit has sixty doors, that’s sixty tenants. Got me?” She nods. “So it was a small thing with a cracked concrete parking lot, broken signs, and a complete vacancy. He wanted to get rid of it because he hadn’t been able to rent it out and the taxes were killing him. What he didn’t realize was that he was trying for the wrong tenant. He’d tried to lure the staples like a dry cleaner and a nail salon and a pub, but that wasn’t the demo. There was a skate park across the street. The tenants needed to match that, so I asked my dad for a loan, bought the property, recruited a bike and skate shop and an ice cream and burger joint as my anchors. The nail salon stayed because moms that dropped their kids off at the skate park would sit inside, drink champagne, and get their nails done.”

  “Wait, is that the Wheels Plaza over on 64th and University?”

  “Yeah.” I feel my chest puff with pride.

  “That area is booming now. It’s so busy all the time.”

  I grin like a child receiving a gold star in kindergarten. “Yeah, just like this area. This place is nice, but I’ve got my eye on a property over on the waterfront. It’s a gem.”

  “Is that the Park Hill one you were talking about on the phone?”

  “Yup.”

  “You seem excited.”

  “I am. This shit is fun. The pie is limited. There’s only so much real estate to sell so you have to hustle, you have to be creative, and you have to know what you’re doing. Too many times someone gets involved in the game who doesn’t know what they’re doing. I don’t fault them. They’re brought in by someone else who’s taking advantage of their ignorance or their naivety or both.”

  “And as long as you don’t have to see the consequences, then it doesn’t matter who loses?” she shoots at me.

  I take a moment because she’s pissed, which catches me off guard. I thought we were connecting, but the way she accuses me of being shady makes me wonder if she or someone she knew lost money on a speculative land deal.

  “No. It does matter. There are some fucked-up people in the real estate business and if there’s someone who I feel is in over their heads, I try to warn them. But a lot of people do not want any help, Leila. Like a few weeks or months ago, some guy killed himself after he’d invested all his life savings into an investment scheme to purchase this hotel property. The guy who was running the scheme didn’t have enough for the bid minimum. Instead of telling his investors that, he ran off with the money.”

  “This place? The one we’re looking at?” She turns in a slow circle in the middle of the dust-filled lobby. The glass is going up for the retail units, and the marble reception desks were installed two days ago. It’s shaping up.

  “Yeah. Heard about it from the seller actually. It’s fucking sad.”

  “What’s going on with the lead investor? Do you know who he is?”

  “I don’t. I hadn’t run into him on a bid before. I did hear that he had some bigger investors who want their money back and might have the power to eke it out of him, but I haven’t kept track of that.”

  “What about the people who don’t have the power to get their money back? What about them?”

  “Leila, sweetheart, those people shouldn’t be playing the game with me then.”

  “Maybe I don’t want to play with you either.” She turns suddenly and runs out the door, leaving me flat footed and completely baffled. What just happened?

  Chapter Fifteen

  Leila

  My head hurts. Yet, it’s nowhere near as bad as the ache in my chest. I have no fucking clue what I’m doing here. For a brief moment I questioned if I might have been on the wrong side of all of this. Then Warren kept talking. It was the patronizing way he smiled and said people shouldn’t be playing the game with him. It had been like a sucker punch.

  Out of all the projects he could have taken me to, it was that one. I’m not sure if the ache in my chest is because of that or that for a brief moment I no longer wished to be on the wrong side. I’d allowed myself to believe that Warren was the good guy and my feelings for him we’re justified. Thankfully, he made sure to show me his real colors, and I know for certain I’m doing what needs to be done.

  I keep walking with no clue where I’m going. My phone starts to ring, and Chris’ name lights up the screen. I answer.

  “Hey.”

  “You did it!” he shouts excitedly into the phone. “The Park Hill deal. We stole it right out from under him. We’re going to make a fucking killing off this deal. If Warren was pushing this hard for it, he must know its potential.” My smile is weak as I listen to the good news. He deserved this. It was only fair. Maybe he shouldn’t have been playing the game with me. That’s what my mind keeps telling me, but my heart is screaming something different altogether.

  “So I’m done?” I ask. Warren was so excited when he talked about the Park Hill property. What now? I just walk away? Still, something feels unfinished. Him losing a contract might be a kick in the balls, but I want him to lose something more.

  “No, we keep going. Let’s see how many of these contracts we can get out from under him.” I chew on my bottom lip. “Leila.”

  “I’m here. I’m not sure that’s such a good idea. He’s close to catching me.” He almost did already. He keeps trying to break down my walls. Each time he gets a little closer to accomplishing it. My defense is shit when it comes to him. He’s not a stupid man either. It will only be a matter of time before he caught on. And I’m not slick enough to continue my little charade.

  “You’re quitting? You think that was enough justice for your father?” His tone is harsh and filled with disappointment. “This is our family.”

  “I don’t know.” Being close to Warren is getting hard for me too. As much as I hate him, I like him too. He gave me pleasure, something I haven't had in any shape or form in a very long time.

  “You’ll do it. I’m not asking or suggesting. You wouldn’t want anyone to get wind of what you’ve already done. Would you?” My hand tightens on the phone. I’m not even sure if what I did is illegal or not. I mean, can I get in trouble for having a fake resume? I don’t think I can. T
he worst that could happen is that I get fired. And it wouldn’t matter at that point anyway. But I did copy information off his computer and gave it to Chris. I’m sure that could get me in some trouble.

  “What are you trying to say?”

  “Don’t be a child. I’ll expect more information tomorrow.” He ends the call. I wipe my cheeks, not realizing that I started to cry. I should get out. Take off. Where would I even go? Anywhere is better than jail, I suppose.

  I check my bag, making sure I have my wallet at least. I can leave everything else behind. I circle back as the sun starts to set. I’m sure everyone has cleared out from the sight by now. Even Warren. I wonder if he’s out looking for me or if he went back home.

  It takes me almost an hour to make it back; my legs are starting to hurt. The only light is coming from the full moon as I approach the building. I check around the building and score when I see wood over an opening that they are likely putting a door into. I slip inside, roaming around the place. I use my cell phone as a flashlight.

  All of this heartache over this stupid fucking building. I keep roaming around, not sure what I’m actually looking for. That is until I see it. I stare at the fire alarm. It could be my final FU to Warren. I put my hand on it, running my fingers back and forth.

  I close my eyes, taking a deep breath as I pull. My eyes fly open when the alarm starts to blare, and the sprinklers all pop on. Water pours down on me as I take off to make my escape.

  “Stop!” I hear someone shout. I look back, seeing a man in a security uniform. My heart drops as his eyes lock with mine.