Chapter 11
Elliot
Holy fucking shit. Those are the words that keep repeating in my head as I walk toward my office. Every time I think I have my impulses under control, the memory of Mira's lips on mine makes my body react.
Asking her to stay after the meeting was a very bad idea. The situation spiraled when she talked back to me. No one had ever spoken to me that way. It should have repelled me. I've never been attracted to a woman who doesn't respect authority, so I'm not quite sure what appeals to me about her. Earlier, instead of listening to the rational voice in my head, I ran straight into the biggest trap of all without a second's hesitation.
I don't know why I lose the ability to think when it comes to Mira. Threats don't intimidate her at all, and my angry glares only make her laugh harder. After the way she treated me during the meeting, I didn't know whether I wanted to fire her from Wondervale on the spot or fuck her until she finally apologized.
And those little moans she made when my tongue slid against hers... Fuck. Goddamn it, I'm hard again. Overwhelmed, I rake both hands through my hair.
If Adrian found out I'd kissed an employee, he'd hang me by the balls from the castle flagpole. I consider my options for getting ahead of the shitstorm waiting for me with Human Resources, but I see no way out. In the end, I deserve the lawsuit Mira will file against me. I'm the one who touched her. No matter how she responded to my touch, it's my job to remain professional and hold myself to a higher standard. It's my responsibility.
Instead of returning to my office, I head for my house at the far end of the park and call my pilot. I need to get away for a few days before I do something else stupid that could jeopardize my best chance of seeing my project through.
The kiss I shared with Mira revealed exactly how dangerous our attraction is. I have to keep my distance from her. She's a major risk to my plan and my future. And to the part of me that wonders just how explosive the rest of it would have been between us if we hadn't stopped.
The first twenty-four hours after my return to Chicago were anything but pleasant. My driver made me late after taking forever to change a flat tire, and then some random employee spilled his coffee on my shirt. In short, everything went to shit fast.
Monday's meetings only worsen my mounting irritation. Sitting through them feels like a waste of time when I have far better things to do at Wondervale.
As Adrian takes over after our father's usual remarks, I roll my cold metal cuff link between my fingers. My brother talks about our figures while Audrey, his assistant, handles the PowerPoint presentation. Audrey is pretty without being overly striking. Her dark, curly hair is held back by a brightly colored headband that complements the warm tones of her brown skin.
She and Adrian work very well together. Despite her young age, she's good at the job. My brother even lets her answer some of the questions, which is rare for him.
I glance at my other brother. Does he notice how well matched the two of them are, too? No, Nico is focused on a sheet of paper in front of him. No surprise there. Despite his considerable intelligence, his impulsivity and attention issues have always made things difficult for him. Sitting through hour-long meetings drains every ounce of self-control he possesses.
Today, Nico has decided to stay awake by playing tic-tac-toe. Armed with my pen, I ruin his game for fun.
"Asshole," he mutters under his breath.
I write "PAY ATTENTION" at the top of his page. In response, he draws a crooked middle finger, beneath which I scribble, "That's a tiny dick. Is it yours?"
A quiet laugh escapes him. Adrian clears his throat, and we both look up.
"Any updates on your progress at Wondervale, Elliot?" our father asks.
His tone is so neutral that it puts me on the defensive. If he's not mocking me, scowling, or glaring at me, I automatically start looking for the trap he's setting.
I flick an invisible speck of dust from my jacket.
"The creators are making rapid progress on developing new concepts."
"Very good. It would be helpful if you presented their initial results at our next meeting. Your ten-billion-dollar budget is quite substantial, and I'm sure the rest of the board would like to know more about how those funds are being allocated."
Bastard. I clench my teeth until they ache.
"Yes, of course, I can give a presentation on my budget. Is there any particular area you're interested in?"
"No, nothing in particular. I think everyone would like to learn more about the creative process behind an undertaking of this magnitude. After all, there hasn't been a renovation on this scale since the park's twenty-fifth anniversary."
Bullshit. I stare into his eyes, hoping to find some sign that will betray his true intentions, but all I discover is that they lack their usual redness. Strange. Come to think of it, I don't believe I've ever seen my father this sober. He belongs to the worst category of alcoholics: he always passes for sober when he's drinking, and the only clue that gives him away is his bloodshot eyes the following day.
I decide to ignore the detail. It's probably just a bizarre coincidence. Maybe he simply ran out of alcohol at home last night and was too lazy to go buy more.
"I'll be happy to show you how our project is progressing," I say.
Now that my father has put pressure on me, I'll have to start pushing everyone to their breaking point. When they do their best, it simply isn't good enough for me,not with my old man breathing down my neck, expecting me to fail.
I'll do everything I can to make sure the creators have what they need to succeed. Especially Mira. She's my best chance of reaching my goal and getting out of Wondervale for good.
Before the meeting ends, I open the budget dashboard on my tablet. Three contractors billed the park for the same design review, approved by different managers within one hour.
“Who signed these?” I ask.
My father glances at the screen. “Routine administrative overlap.”
“Routine overlap costs four hundred thousand dollars.”
Adrian reaches for the tablet. I pull it back. “Send me the original invoices. Not the summary.”
Nico looks up. “That is not how this family handles a presentation.”
“It is how I handle a recovery plan.”
The room goes quiet. I save the dashboard before anyone can call the discrepancy a formatting error. On the flight back to Wondervale, I write Mira’s name beside the contractor list. If she knows who designed the park’s routes, she may know why three companies are being paid to describe the same work. Strategy becomes another word for an excuse to see her.
I keep the tablet open after the car leaves the board entrance. The duplicate invoices are not proof of fraud, but they are proof that someone expects me to accept a clean number without asking who touched it. I forward the files to the temporary auditor and add one instruction: preserve the original metadata.
Adrian calls before I reach the park.
“Do not turn a budget review into a family trial,” he says.
“Then tell the family to stop hiding behind summaries.”
He goes silent. When I arrive at Wondervale, I find Mira outside the Creators’ office, holding a folder against her chest. She has been waiting for me. The contractor list is no longer only my problem.