Devotion - Billionaire Contemporary Romance Novel Page 3

  “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.”

  Phillip stuffed his hands in his pockets and turned his angular jaw towards the windows.

  “I know what you’re thinking,” he confessed softly. “That I’m simply giving up without my usual fight.” He looked down, pretending to be preoccupied with his diamond-studded cuff links.

  “No,” Isabel said cautiously, realizing he was revealing a rare glimpse behind his steely façade. “No, not at all. I want you to do whatever you feel is right for you.”

  Their eyes locked. She wanted him to know that she understood him. Nothing more needed to be said.

  “By the way,” Phillip said slowly, hinting at his desire to change the focus of their conversation. “Lucy told me you called in late because of Aidan. How is he?”

  “Sick. Fever. I apologize for being late.”

  Phillip cut his hand through the air like no apology was needed. “Our business dinner last night with Stu ran later than both you and I expected, and I imagine you were up well after that caring for Aidan. Is it serious?”

  “He’s four, Phillip. And I’m his mother. So every illness seems serious.”

  Phillip nodded and allowed an unspoken moment of connection between them. They rarely discussed their personal lives. As a matter of routine, he preferred to maintain a cold professional detachment as part of his British formality. So whenever Phillip made a conscious effort to inquire about her son, he always disarmed her.

  “Is he still interested in dinosaurs?”

  “And airplanes. Right now, his dinosaurs and B52 bombers trade off eating one another.”

  “Brilliant.” Phillip smirked, waiting to hear more.

  “Then, at the end of the day, they all make up and are fast friends by bed time so they can all sleep together under his pillow.”

  Phillip’s eyes danced with delight. “As they should.” Then, the light quickly faded and his tone grew serious. “Unfortunately, Isabel…I need you again tonight.”

  “The Watercross gala?”

  He nodded. “I would like you to accompany me.” He gazed at her cautiously, as if he was preparing for her refusal.

  Isabel grew silent. She knew about tonight’s gala. She knew that Phillip had always planned to attend—just not with her. And now, she assumed there was a high probability that Phillip’s ex-business partner and Phillip’s ex-fiancée would both be there—together—although she knew better than to acknowledge it.

  After a long pause, she nodded with a smile. “Don’t worry, Phillip. My mother can watch Aidan tonight. I will be there.”

  “Thank you,” he whispered.

  It was a simple statement of appreciation, a subtle acknowledgement of the unity between them—a professional bond of loyalty and trust that had developed over the course of the past five years she had worked for him. She did not refuse him because she felt eternally indebted to him. He had been the one to hire her as his office copy clerk almost five years ago when she was only an inexperienced college dropout, pregnant and recently abandoned by Aidan’s father. Without her job at Spears & Associates, Isabel shuddered to think how much different—harder—her life would be now, especially as a single working mother.

  “Well, I suppose I should get back to my desk,” Isabel said, rising from he
r seat. “You’ve just sold a second property to Zale. We’re going to need to get working on that as soon as possible.”

  “Zale said he’ll send over the letter of intent. You can forward it on to Gary.”

  “I’ll talk to him about preparing all the due diligence documents for The Peoria, and then I’ll have Giselle make copies so we can circulate them.”

  “Giselle?” Phillip suddenly questioned her.

  “Yes, the new intern.”

  He scoffed. “Is that her name? You mean like the ballet?”

  “No, probably more like the supermodel.”

  “Well, she is a bit of a tart, isn’t she?”

  “Phillip…” Isabel paused before pushing back on him. “Try to be a bit easier on her. She’s only a college student.”

  “No, she’s a Spears employee.”

  “You shouldn’t comment on her posture.”

  “Did she complain?”

  “I wouldn’t call it complaining.”

  “Well, she was slouching.”

  “She’s terrified of you, you know.”

  Phillip snorted like he was truly amused.

  “Just like I was,” Isabel added. “When I first started working here.”

  Phillip gazed at her with interest. “Terrified, were you? Of what? Of me?”

  “Of everyone. And yes, of you.”

  Phillip held her gaze longer than necessary. “Well, you certainly grew out of that, didn’t you? And now I can barely get you to bring me my afternoon cup of tea.”

  Isabel opened his office door. “Phillip, you are more than capable of getting your own tea.”

  “Touché. It’s true. I am.” He eyed her in the doorway. “Terrified, really?” he repeated with a mischievous glint in his eye. Then, he suddenly laughed. It was only the second time all morning that he allowed himself the luxury of an unguarded burst of emotion.

  “Well, you needn’t have been, Isabel. You were exceedingly bright and quick-witted, despite your age and your situation.”

  “You mean despite being unmarried and pregnant,” she clarified.

  “Despite not being enrolled in college, unlike our newest supermodel, Miss Giselle, who only seems to know how to walk in stilettos.”

  “Shhhhh,” Isabel hushed him, partly closing his office door. “Please, Phillip. I’m simply asking that you go a bit easier on her.”

  Phillip sat down at his desk, crossed his hands, and swiveled in his chair. His handsome face indulged in a playful smirk of sincerity. “For you, Isabel—I will do anything.”

  His valiant gaze seized upon her, conveying what was often left unspoken between them—he appreciated her more than she knew, and certainly more than his own sense of business professionalism would ever allow him to openly betray. But Isabel didn’t need him to express anything more to her. He was her boss; he paid her a six-figure salary and treated her with respect because she did her job well. That was enough for her.

  She turned, preparing to leave, but he called after her, as if he wasn’t ready to let her go. “So you will start the ball rolling on The Peoria?”

  “Yes, I’ll start on it right away.”

  “Good.” He nodded with satisfaction. “Oh, one more thing…” His voice dropped just as she was on the brink of abandoning him. “You received roses this morning?”

  Isabel stopped and glanced back at him.

  “Yes.”

  “From whom?” There was almost a hint of envy in his voice.

  “Just an old friend,” she slowly said, feigning disinterest.

  “I see…”

  It was a lie, and Phillip’s searing eyes told her that he knew it. A blunt chill of distrust cooled the warmth between them.

  “I shall pick you up tonight at eight o’clock sharp.”

  “Yes, of course, Phillip. I will be ready.”

  Chapter Two

  Isabel stood in front of her dressing mirror within her bedroom, struggling to decide what to wear for the gala.

  Without knocking, her mother pushed in through the doorway. “Estás preparada?” Mrs. Alvarez asked it with her sharp Castilian accent, as if she expected Isabel to stop dressing and come downstairs immediately. “Aidan is finished with his bath, and now, he is asking for you.”

  Isabel looked down at herself in her dressing mirror. She was only wearing her beige slip and pantyhose. “Mother, I still need a few more minutes.”

  Mrs. Alvarez leaned into the doorway. “Are you certain you really have to go out again tonight? You went out last night for work. I think it is time that you tell this wealthy boss of yours that your son needs you more than he does.”

  Isabel glanced up at her mother’s displeased expression in the mirror’s reflection. It was the same glare that her mother gave her whenever she wanted Catholic guilt to weight on Isabel’s soul. Isabel lowered her gaze and picked through her makeup bag, a preoccupation to avoid her mother’s black judgmental eyes.

  “Mother, please don’t do this. You know how demanding my job is—”

  “I believe it is time that you start telling him how demanding your job as a mother is. ”

  Isabel sighed and lowered her mascara wand onto her dressing table. It was the same conversation they always had, but every year it grew more and more frequent. The more trust and responsibility Phillip gave her as his executive assistant, the more dinner meetings, fundraisers, and opening night galas she was expected to attend with him. And every year, her son, Aidan, grew more interested in spending time with her rather than just her mother. The pressure of juggling both her personal duties as a mother and her professional responsibilities as Phillip’s assistant was starting to weigh on her—weigh on all of them—and Isabel knew the only choice she had was to promise her mother that things would be better tomorrow in a desperate attempt to skate by another day before having to make good on her promise.

  “It’s only one more night. One night, Mother. And after tonight, I’ll be home by six o’clock for the rest of the week.”

  “It is not me who you need to promise. It is your son. He knows that his mother should be here, and instead, she is choosing not to be here.”

  “I’m not choosing anything. I’m doing my job—a job that pays for us to live in this amazing house and in this affluent neighborhood, and send my son to a prestigious preschool, and allow his grandmother the chance to enjoy her retirement, spending her free time with him. Without this job, you and I would still be cleaning houses. Except we’d probably be dragging Aidan along with us because we wouldn’t be able to afford childcare. That’s what this job means to me—to us.”

  A dose of her daughter’s quick temper silenced Veronica Alvarez. Through the mirror’s reflection, Isabel watched her mother absorb the sobering realization that she was right—painfully right. She knew her mother’s inability to read and write English was a handicap that had kept her a house maid for the past thirty-five years. And she knew her mother expected everything to be different for Isabel until a foolish college romance with an Italian foreign exchange student and an unexpected pregnancy changed that.

  Mrs. Alvarez eyed Isabel’s silk slip. “I hope you plan to wear something warm tonight. The wind downtown will be strong.”

  She closed the door. Isabel felt empty and heartless. What Isabel hadn’t said was that they would be forced to drag Aidan along with them while cleaning houses the same way her mother had dragged her around when she was young. Isabel had refrained because she knew her mother was proud of what she had accomplished as a mother and as a widow in a foreign country. It’s so ironic how life repeats itself, Isabel thought, reflecting on how perhaps it was an act of miraculous fate that she had ended up where she was now, or perhaps it was simply a repetition of history—her own stubborn determination to succeed at all costs for the sake of her son. Either way, Isabel knew exactly what she would not have without her job at Spears & Associates, and she knew the only person who had truly given her the opportunity to provide them all with a better life was h
er boss, Phillip Spears.

  The doorbell rang.

  His driver.

  Isabel looked at her reflection. She barely had finished her make-up or curled her hair. She quickly finished her blush and lipstick before sweeping up her long brown hair into a French twist and rummaging out an ornamental gold-plated hair clip that she reserved for special occasions. She heard voices downstairs. Aidan’s bashful voice, talking to someone at the door. Then, she heard her mother’s reprimanding tone. Phillip’s driver and her mother. Together without her. Isabel sighed. She needed to get down there—and quick. She threw open her closet; she was prepared to dress herself in her favorite black evening dress before realizing it was still at the cleaners. Her mother spoke louder, as if she was summoning her daughter to descend the stairs with every word. Yes, stop talking, Mother…I’m coming…She turned to her fitted ivory dress. Could she wear ivory in October? She couldn’t remember the fashion rules—she only knew that she had worn it only once on an impromptu date with her dentist. Yes, a moment of weakness. Dating the dentist didn’t last, but she still loved the dress. And at a black-tie gala hosted inside a glitzy ballroom with chandelier lighting and sapphire blue table clothes, Isabel would stand out like a white dove passing through the night.

  She glanced at her bouquet of pink flowers. She had avoided her mother’s inquiries regarding where she had gotten them, and instead, she had placed them in her bedroom where she could secretly admire them. And yes, she still felt an unexpected sensation of curiosity and flattery every time she peered at their elegance. He might be there…she thought, as she stepped into the ivory dress and towed it over her hips with a cautious exhale. Its hem was shorter than her black cocktail dress. Its neckline, less conservative. Perhaps she wanted to send him a message. She slipped on her champagne pink heels to finish off her ensemble. No earrings. Just the same simple diamond pendant necklace she always wore. The dress will speak for itself.

  Yes…she confirmed with an approving nod at her reflection. Tonight might be the night in which she decided whether or not this was truly the beginning.