Page 1 of Built to Last

Chapter One

I stand in the middle of what was once a grand ballroom and think about all the work ahead of me. Soft light filters in from the big windows that overlook the garden, and I can’t help but wonder what it must have been like to stand on the balcony and watch the stars and the moon.

Not that you can do that today, but I don’t think pollution was quite as bad during the Gilded Age when this mansion was built. I could be wrong about that. History isn’t my best subject.

But architecture is.

Banover Place. Once this magnificent mansion was owned by a railroad tycoon, and the family also ran bootleg booze during prohibition as evidenced by the tunnels below the house that lead to a hotel two blocks away. So much history in one home.

I can’t wait to get to work. This is the job I’ve been waiting my whole life to do.

“What do you think?” Anika asks. Anika Fox. One of my two best friends since we were kids. Anika, who will soon be known as Her Majesty, Queen Anika of Ralavia. Long live the queen and all that.

She’s not wearing her crown today, but there’s no doubt my bestie rules her world with a kind smile and a lot of love. She’s a very modern monarch, and she’s the reason I’m standing in this mansion.

“I think it’s going to be beautiful when I’m done with it,” I reply with confidence.

I’ve gotten to know this house. While Anika was a contestant on a reality dating show that took place inside the mansion, I was brought in to ensure production didn’t ruin the aesthetics of the place. Or destroy a hundred years’ worth of history because they needed better lighting. I’ve worked here for months, but what Anika is now offering is far more than some handywork.

A complete renovation. I’m going to get to completely renovate this glorious monstrosity of a house. The thought of spending hours and hours bringing this place back to its former beauty excites me in a way I can’t explain. I’ve worked in construction all of my life, but this is different. This isn’t building something new, some nondescript office structure in Brooklyn or a high-rise condo. This is delicate. This feels like art to me.

“And you’re sure it’s not going to hurt the business?” My other best friend, Ivy Jensen, walks back in from the hall.

She’s got reason to be worried. She helped me pull my father’s construction business out of possible bankruptcy. Ivy is a tech goddess who’s working on perfecting the AI software she developed with her fiancé, Heath. Beyond that, she simply knows how to run a business. She quickly identified the problems and restructured how the company handles our finances and voila, we’re thriving again. She also found me a tax attorney who managed to get our ass out of the fire because Dad and my uncle had never seen the benefit of paying their taxes. So I understand why Ivy wants to make sure the company I inherited from my father is steady. “I can handle both jobs. It’s not like I’m on-site much these days. I can take meetings with clients in the mornings and get here to set before lunch. Paul’s going to handle the day-to-day operations while I’m working here. It’s an eight-week gig.”

“We hope,” Ivy points out. She gestures around the grand ballroom. “You never know with these things. I’ve been watching a lot of real estate and renovation shows, and something always goes wrong. Always. Have we checked the water heater? Does anyone know the difference between black mold and regular, won’t-kill-you mold?”

“Well, for one thing, it’s black in color.” It’s fun to have Ivy freaking about things in my world. It’s a little payback because I freak out about computer stuff, and I swear the damn things hate me and love her. I lose a spreadsheet and call Ivy because I won’t be able to make payroll, and she swoops in and it comes back with the stroke of a key. So I’ll tease her a bit about this. “The only mold I’ve seen is in the bathroom down the hall,” I say, knowing she recently used that sucker. There is no mold in Banover Place. “As long as you don’t breathe in there, you’ll be fine.”

Ivy pales a bit. “I want a hazmat suit.”

“There’s no black mold,” Anika assures her. “We’ve already done an inspection. We had to in order to get the insurance.” Anika frowns my way. “You know she gets nervous about mold.”

I’m not sure why since Ivy Jensen fears nothing. I mean nothing. She should totally be more worried about her sketchy dining choices. I’ve watched her down tacos from some dude selling them out of a cooler off 44th Street right before the cops chased him away.

She’d declared them delicious and protested the police.

“There’s no mold,” I agree, though Ani’s being a party pooper. “You’re not going to be taken over by some zombie fungus.”

Her fiancé is what I like to call a geek of the highest order. Not that Ivy isn’t, too, but Heath likes to take it to new heights. I wish she’d never watched The Last of Us.

Ivy’s nose wrinkles. “We hope. But it is real, you know. It exists in nature, and we’re one scientific experiment away from it becoming sentient and taking over the world.”

I feel my eyes widen at the hypocrisy. “Says the woman who works on AI all day.”

She waves me off. “Emma isn’t going to launch nuclear bombs or anything. Though she could take over dating sites and question some women’s choices. I might have fed her a bunch of feminist literature, and she’s got strong feelings now.”

I’m sure Heath loved that. “So when are we starting? I know you have to get through the royal wedding thing first.”

Anika grins. “Yes, I do have that to somehow survive. How did your last dress fitting go?”

I sigh. “Fine. It’s all fine. I’ll put on a pretty dress and watch you become a queen.” I sling an arm around her. “I’m proud of you. You know that, right? I tease you, and I hate the five-inch heels that will absolutely wreck my knees, but I’m so happy for you and Luca. One day Ivy and Heath will get their butts in gear. But I bet she doesn’t care if I wear sneakers to her wedding. I’m trying to figure out how you managed to plan a whole-ass royal wedding, get a production company up and running, and Ivy still hasn’t had an engagement party.”

Ivy groans and joins us. “I’ve been busy. I tried to get Heath to go to Vegas and get it over with, but his nonna isn’t having it. I don’t understand. My mom’s been seeing Thomas, and I heard her saying if she did ever think about marrying again, she would elope. If it’s good enough for my mom, it’s good enough for me. But she’s on Lydia’s side.”

Ivy’s mom recently turned her whole life around and is seeing an incredibly nice man named Thomas, who works for Ivy’s mentor, CeCe Foust. She’s incredibly happy to see her mother finally moving on with her life.

I wish mine would.

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