Devotion - Billionaire Contemporary Romance Novel (2 page)

Isabel watched Phillip’s merciless eyes, staring Gary down.  She knew that he never surrendered—ever.

“Gary, let me make this bloody hell crystal clear,” he said, his anger melting through his English reserve. “I’m not staying in a deal that reassigns my property to Symeon Colovos.  Whatever the cost.”

“It’s a set-up,” Isabel suddenly offered.

Everyone turned their attention onto her.  She cleared her throat and smoothed down the seam of her skirt.  During Phillip’s business meetings, she had long grown accustomed to being the only woman in the room, but five years of practice still hadn’t completely diminished her instinct to feel self-conscious whenever she had to speak her mind in front of Phillip’s colleagues.  After all, she wasn’t one of Phillip’s business partners; she was his executive assistant.  She never stopped feeling like she had to prove herself to every man in the room, every time.

“It’s been a set-up from the beginning,” she insisted, settling her gaze on Phillip. “That’s why they wouldn’t budge on the re-assignment clause when we negotiated the contract in the first place.  Remember, Gary?”

“Yeah, yeah… right,” Gary pondered aloud in agreement.  “I do remember.”

“Symeon is trying to ruin you, Phillip—revenge for running him out of the firm. But he knows you.  He knows you’ll never sell anything to him after the way he handle himself here, so he’s set you up from the beginning.  He’s been going through Harvey Zale this whole time to make the purchase on his behalf.”

Skeptical, Jett challenged her. “What’s in it for Zale?”

“Money,” Phillip offered with stale disgust. “Zale is a ruthless greedy wanker and Symeon is likely paying him a premium to reassign our deal to him.”

“No, Phillip,” Isabel respectfully cut in. “I don’t think so.  I think Harvey Zale is playing Symeon the way Symeon thinks he’s playing you.  Harvey Zale wants something from you, and he’s going to try to leverage the reassignment deal to get it.”

“I love it when Isabel starts imitating Nancy Drew,” Jett smirked, throwing his weight back into his chair and bracing his hands behind his head. “Sexy,” he snarled with sarcasm, chewing on his gum like he was a teenager in high school.  And just like a teenager, Jett Watson loved to publicly provoke Isabel—loved it a little too much. 

Isabel sensed Phillip watching her, waiting for her to fire back at Jett.  She could handle herself and Phillip knew it. But this time, she chose to ignore him.   Deep down, she was thinking about the flowers. 
Notre Dame graduate.  Fraternity president.  Football junkie.
  It was hard to imagine Jett giving her anything except a reason to report him to Marcy, the human resources director, for sexual harassment. 

Instead, Isabel locked eyes with Phillip.  He was still giving her a chance to prove her point.  She knew she had to make the most of it.

“We should have seen this from the beginning, Phillip.  Harvey Zale usually doesn’t purchase vintage commercial properties like your Amway building.  Zale likes government buildings.  Political statements.  Power plays.  Harvey Zale is threatening to reassign the Amway building to Symeon Colovos because he knows it’s exactly what you
don’t
want.  That way, he can turn around and squeeze you for something he really does want.”

Phillip’s hard marble eyes fixed upon her.  She knew he was reading her confidence and assessing the merits of her theory.

“What do we have that Zale would want?” Norton’s ancient voice suddenly floated up from the couch like a ghost in the room.  Like a supportive grandfather, Phillip’s eighty-year-old actuary often lent his support to Isabel during their meetings.  Whenever she had to go up against Phillip or Jett, Norton often took her side without fail.  “The Mercantile?” he offered.

She shook her head. “Too lucrative, Norton.  Harvey Zale knows Phillip would never sell a cash cow like the Merc.”

“40 South LaSalle?” Gary jumped in, playing the game.

“There’s nothing powerful or sexy about the Federal Reserve Building,” Jett snarked. “Sure, they print billions of dollars.  But they don’t know how to spend it.” He winked at Isabel, shifting his gum from one side of his cheek to the other.

“City Hall?” Norton guessed again.

“Phillip would gladly pay Zale to take a pain-in-the-ass tenant like the Mayor off his hands,” Gary cawed. “Am I right, Phil?”

But Phillip didn’t respond.  He was lost in thought, as if he had disappeared from the room.  Then, Isabel realized he was peering at the pile of mail on the edge of his pristine glass desk. 

Suddenly, a rubber band whizzed into Phillip’s chest from across the room.  Jett tittered like a school boy, and for a brief moment, they all laughed as if they had all forgotten they were fighting a losing battle.  There was an awkward return to silence when no one else offered up any other suggestions.

“The Old Main Post Office.”  Phillip said it like a statement of uncharacteristic resignation.  He leaned forward from his chair and picked up the rubber band from the floor, then tossed it into the trash can.  He peered over at Isabel, confirming her theory.  “Harvey Zale wants The Old Main Post Office.”

Isabel nodded, as if they were reading each other’s minds. “Yes, it’s the perfect play.”

“A vulture play,” Phillip confirmed.  “Completely Zale’s style.”

“But everyone knows that property has been tied up in federal red tape for years,” Jett said, shooting another rubber band directly into the trash can.

“And that’s exactly why Zale wants it,” Isabel replied. “Everyone has left that building for dead because they assume it’s worthless—everyone except Phillip.”

“Four thousand feet of premium riverfront property,” Phillip stated dryly. “It’s clearly worth more than anyone has given it credit for…”

“And completely your style,” Isabel offered in consolation.  “Your style is to revitalize downtown Chicago—one vintage building at a time.”

He peered directly at her, his eyes softening. “Let Zale have any of my other properties to keep him from selling The Amway to my bastard ex-business partner.  But not The Old Main Post Office.  The Old Main Post Office is not for sale.”

“It’s going to take millions of dollars to renovate it back to its former glory,” Jett interjected. “You should just dump it, Phillip.”

“Three hundred and fifty million dollars—to be exact,” Norton confirmed, rising from the couch like he was awaking from his mid-morning cat nap. “That’s why you’ve owned it for twenty years, Phillip, and even you still haven’t bothered yourself with it.”

“You’re wrong, Norton.  Renovation of its historic main lobby is almost complete,” Phillip shot back.  “And Zale will take it and turn it into a shopping mall.  A tasteless tourist attraction.  Or worse—a parking garage.”

“Yes…but at least he’s too cheap to tear it down completely,” Norton countered, his sunken eyes challenging Phillip like a father.  “He’ll keep the exterior.  But it’s true, he’ll likely gut everything else, including its Beaux-Arts marble lobby.” 

As if he had lost interest in the fight, Norton shuffled towards the door, preparing to exit. “Know your own intentions, Phillip. Some things are worth fighting for, but many, many,
many
more things are simply a display of one’s own stubborn pride.”

Isabel watched Phillip absorb Norton’s words with disquiet.  Norton knew the history behind every Chicago downtown real estate deal since The Great Depression, and his uncanny ability as Phillip’s actuary to assess risk had kept Phillip from chasing deals that had bankrupted several of his competitors.  If there was one person who could alter Phillip’s opinion about how to deal with Harvey Zale, it was Norton Harrington.

Phillip’s phone intercom suddenly buzzed. “Mr. Spears?”

“Yes, Lucy?” Phillip called to the receptionist.

“Harvey Zale is on line seven for you.”

Phillip looked down at the blinking light on his phone receiver, then glanced over at Isabel.  She nodded without indulging in her victory.  She had been right, but now it meant that Phillip would likely be forced to forfeit The Old Main Post Office to keep Harvey Zale from reassigning the Amway deal to his ex-business partner, Symeon Colovos.

Isabel gazed at Phillip’s churning blue eyes, offering up her support in any way she could.  But it was out of their hands now, and they both knew it.

“Thank you, Lucy,” Phillip answered, his voice grounding down like gravel. “I shall take the call.”

“Don’t blow his brains down to his balls, Phil,” Gary warned.

“No…” Phillip replied, turning away his Roman profile towards the windows, allowing the muted sunlight to warm his smooth face. “That’s what I pay you to do, Gary.  And fortunately, I have an incredibly savvy executive assistant to warn me not to blow out his brains—not quite yet.”

Phillip glanced over at Isabel.  She smiled in appreciation.

He waited, his finger hovering over the blinking light on his phone until Jett and Gary filed out of his office.  Isabel turned to follow them, glancing back at Phillip as she prepared to close the door behind her.  He lifted up the handset to accept Harvey Zale’s call while his gaze fixed on her. 
He would need her again after the call. She shouldn’t go far
. 

She understood him.  They always understood each other.

“So Nancy…that was some sexy sleuthing in there.”

Isabel shut Phillip’s office door and turned towards Jett, his devious eyes tracing the scooping neckline of her sweater.  His eyes were always fishing, and he never attempted to conceal it.  “Maybe you need to stop by my office sometime and we can try to unravel the mysteries of some of my real estate contracts—together.”

Isabel smirked.  It was hard to take him seriously when his breath smelled like bubble gum.

“The alphabet’s a little too much for you these days, Jett?”

He snuffed out through his nose and cracked his gum.  “Maybe.  Or maybe Phillip’s not the only one who should be entitled to a sassy executive assistant.”

“Good, because that’s what I’m here for…” Tami said, appearing behind him, holding up an iced latte in one hand and Jett’s phone messages in her other hand like a crushing full house. 

“Dimon called.  Angie called.  George Barnes called. And you mother called—twice. 

If I were you, I’d call your mother back first, since she’s the only one who thinks you’re not an offensive, juvenile beefcake.  Is that sassy enough for you?”

Jett chomped down on his gum, baring his bleached teeth at her, as if he despised the interruption.  “
Très
,” he shot back with a glib smile, plucking all of the phone messages out of Tami’s fingers. 

“
Merci
,” Tami answered curtly. “Now get back to your office and start your work day.” Tami ordered him like she was the boss, and Jett was merely her assistant. “And spit out your gum.  No one wants to hear the sound of your smacking tongue, I can guarantee you.  Not even your mother.”

“Are you sure about that?” he said, passing his nose over Isabel’s bouquet of flowers.  Isabel eyed him for a sign. 
Had he been the one?
  Could it even be possible that Jett Wattson—the immature, inappropriate real estate broker—had a clandestine romantic side?

“Very.” Tami challenged him with her open palm.  Jett rolled out his cotton-candy pink wad of gum into her hand with a long, gagging display of his stained tongue.  Tami held her ground without flinching once. 

“Try not to miss me while I’m gone.” Jett winked at Isabel before sauntering off with glee, stopping only to steal a loose sheet of paper from Tami’s desk to make a free-throw shot clear across the office into the saltwater aquarium tank.  The tropical fish crisscrossed each other with explosive fright.  Jett threw up his arms in victory and disappeared into his corner office.  Clearly, he was the champion.

Tami rolled her eyes and turned back to Isabel, dumping Jett’s distasteful gum wad into her trashcan. “Neanderthal. How does he even figure out how to put on his underwear on the right way every morning?”

“He probably just goes without.”

“Ugh,” Tami retched, adjusting her black-rimmed glasses. “Let’s not even speak of it.”

Tami was the only executive assistant who had lasted longer than three weeks working for Jett, and now, Isabel calculated that it had at least been two years. Phillip tolerated Jett’s juvenile behavior because he was used to it from their days together at Harvard Business School. And also because Jett knew every banker, broker, and billionaire in the city and had an uncanny way of sniffing out the most desirable real estate deals before they hit the open market. 

Tami, on the other hand, tolerated Jett’s behavior because she had five older brothers and she was the only other woman in the office, besides Isabel, who had figured out that Jett was an adolescent puppy constantly seeking a titillating scratch. 

Both women turned and saw Gary, standing alongside Isabel’s desk, waiting for his chance to gain her attention.

“That was brilliant in there, Bella.  How did you sense what Zale was really after?”

Isabel shrugged, downplaying his compliment. “Sometimes, things are more obvious when you’re pushed against a wall and you’re forced to consider what the other person truly wants from you.”