Page 9 of Fighting Gravity

“It’s a replica of the Villa Savoye,” Tate continued, a small, pleased-looking smile on his lips.

Of course it was. The building she’d spent a whole semester modeling in architecture school. Because her day could not get any more dreamlike.

“You can see the place anytime you want.”

Okay, so maybe her day could get dreamier. But acceptingthatinvitation would require guts she didn’t think she possessed. Tate’s voice broke through her sprinting thoughts. He wanted to get Abode under contract. She couldn’t believe her luck. She told him she had more to show him.

His smile was brighter than the sun. Genuine. Safe. “No need. I trust you.”

If only she could trust so easily. But with Tate, she was tempted. So tempted. On so many levels.

6

Slipping out of Elle’s office, away from Rosie, was like fighting gravity.

Before today, before Rosie, Tate had always imagined a long life mostly alone. Focusing on his legacy, he’d serve the people who served him. He had never wondered if he could have more.

Now? Now, he wondered. And wanted. He ached to strip Rosie bare in every sense of the word, starting with her soul and ending with her body and starting over again.

But why her? Why now?

His phone vibrated in his pocket and he yanked it out to see who needed him. “Here we go,” he muttered. It would be the middle of the night in Paris, so his mother must be elsewhere.

“Mère,bonjour.”

“I heard from Mattias this morning that we may soon become hoteliers. Is that true, Tatum?”

Straight down to business, as always. There wasn’t room in her life for anything else.

Tate fought a sigh. He’d had to tell his brother, OrbitAll’s CEO in name if not action, about the hotel. The board and the family were next on the list, but he wanted an architect under contract first. A cost estimate in hand. The LLC established. No one had tried to help him when Matt handed him the reins and wandered farther south. It irked him when they pretended to care what happened at OrbitAll.

“We are designing a hotel, yes. I hired the architect today.”

“Are you able to move forward with a hotel project amid distractions of trawling the globe for new staff?”

“Everyone’s been hired. We’re fully operational right now.”

“But still not making money. I shudder to think what damage a hotel will do to our earnings this year.”

OrbitAll had rarely been in the black in the decade they’d been operating. They relied mostly on investors and infusions of cash from Geier Group, though Tate had made handsome profits each time he sold their old technology. He was confident they’d be immediately profitable once they could sell spots on Stratos.

“We have to provide lodging. A hotel will be an expected part of the experience. I plan to run lean on the design. Don’t worry, I won’t replicate the Ritz in the middle of the desert.”

She sniffed. “I’m glad to hear some frugality for once. Don’t let this hotel venture detract from your main priority of getting OrbitAll profitable. I’ll check in again soon.”

She hung up.

Tate huffed out a breath. He was doing damn good work there, though good wasn’t enough. He could smell the cedar notes of his cabin, a Pavlovian response when he talked to his mother. Her raspy smoker’s voice and impossible standards made him yearn for his happy place. Though he’d let “legacy over love” become part of his personal zeitgeist, he still wanted more than what she’d made of her life.

He thought about Rosie’s warm brown eyes and long ivory legs all weekend.

He thought about her again on Monday as he read through and signed the contract she’d sent over. He’d memorized the accompanying email.Are weekly design meetings on site okay with you? I was thinking Fridays so I can get more time with Elle. Let me know if that schedule works.

Weekly meetings were fucking fantastic. He rose from his desk and brought the signed contract out to Luz. “Will you scan that document to me so I can send it back to Rosie, please?”

She thumbed through the stack. “Are you sure you don’t want me to send the contract for you? Correspondence is part of my job.”

“I’m sure.” The pleasure of corresponding with their architect belonged to him.

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