Page 29 of The Second Ending
“Is there a party? Let’s go somewhere and have a drink, or maybe dessert. You choose.” There. He’d made the invitation. Asked her out, on something like an actual date. She did understand that, right?
But the glow in her eye flickered. “I’d love to, but… I didn’t think you were coming, and I’ve just agreed to join Sebastian at the pub. With the others. If I’d known…” Her voice faltered. “Why don’t you come with us? There’ll be a group.”
Not if Sebastian bloody Vera had anything to do with it, Marcus fumed. He’d get her alone at a table at the back or in a quiet corner or something. Or he’d change his mind halfway there and suggest somewhere else. Maybe he should go, just to run interference. But, once again, Ashleigh could take care of herself, and if she wanted to be alone with Sebastian, it wasn’t for him to prevent her. Fuck.
“Please join us,” Sebastian interrupted, oblivious to Marcus’ irritated thoughts. “I’m sure we can find room.”
Find room. Like he was an extra sweater that didn’t fit into a drawer.
“No, that’s okay. Thanks. I’ll leave you to your plans.” Keep the voice steady, don’t break eye contact. Don’t let them know it hurts. “We’ll be in touch, Ash.”
Her hand was now on his arm. “Please, we’d be happy to have you join us. It’s a nice group. You’ll like everyone.” If he hadn’t known better, he could almost think that she was anxious for him to come along.
But it was too late. He couldn’t face it, seeing her cosying up to Sebastian, chatting with him in Spanish, or sharing some secret knowledge about countries he’d never been to. He’d rather go home and wallow in self-pity and single malt whisky.
“Maybe next time.”
“I’ll call you!” Ashleigh’s voice followed him out of the room. But he walked out like he didn’t care.
The week wentfrom bad to worse.
Marcus spent all day at home on Sunday, waiting for Ashleigh’s promised call, which never came. He checked his phone every time he moved. It had power. The volume was on. He hadn’t blocked her by accident. No emails, no texts, no Facebook messages. Crap. She’d forgotten about him already.
Several times he picked his device and hovered his finger over her name, but each time he put the phone down before he did anything.
She must really want nothing to do with him for some reason. He wasn’t going to call and be all pathetic, or worse, call and be shut down. It wasn’t a matter of preserving his ego. He began to think his heart would break. And so, he fretted and stewed and glared at the piece of equipment like it was the main reason why his life was going down the tubes.
When the phone did ring at ten o’clock on Monday morning, he wished he’d thrown the thing out the window.
It wasn’t Ash. It was Nick, the lawyer he was working with on the land acquisition deal.
Or, the former deal.
“They’re talking about pulling out.”
“What the fuck?” Marcus yelled into the phone, bringing Shelley to his office door. Her eyes registered the phone in his hand and the look on his face, and she slunk out again. Probably sealing the doors behind her and calling the fire department for extra measures, because he was pretty sure there was smoke coming out of his ears.
“Sorry to be the bearer of bad news,” Nick said from his end. “I just got an email from the agent, saying they’re reconsideringthe deal. And, no, before you ask—or yell—they didn’t say why. Just that the owner wasn’t happy.”
“Bloody hell! That’s all we need. I’ve got my investors breathing down my back, Harville is ready to have my balls for breakfast, especially after I bailed on him the other night, and now this? Unfuckingbelievable! Can they do this? They’ve signed everything but the final papers. Isn’t it breach of contract or something? You’re a lawyer. Find a way to make them complete this deal.”
“We’re working on it, Marcus. Believe me. We want this done as much as anyone. I think if it goes to court, we’ll win, but it’s going to cost, and it’s going to take time, and—”
“—and my investors are going to start jumping ship, too.” He let out a string of invectives that turned the air blue. “And we still don’t know who this ass is? I mean, it’s been months. Nearly a year. We’ve been talking to agents and representatives, but we don’t know who the Head Asshole is? Why is he hiding? Something fishy is going on. Can we find out what it is and leverage that to bring this deal to a close? I need that land, and I need it yesterday.”
Nick’s voice was tired. “We’re working on that, too. I’ll let you yell at your serfs. I need to crack the whip here. I’ve got one more avenue to explore for finding out who our secret seller is. It’s not illegal.”
Marcus swore again. “Just don’t tell me. Sorry for the temper, Nick. It’s not been my best weekend.”
After a couple more words, they ended the call.
“Trouble?” Shelley was at the door now. She must have put on her flame-proof underwear.
“With a capital T. Bloody hell.” Marcus bit off the worst curses and told his EA the bad news in the briefest terms.
“What’s this going to do to the Playground Contingent?” she asked. “They’ll be devastated. They were so pleased with your most recent proposal.”
Oh hell. That. Here came more trouble, especially when the news broke. He dreaded what they’d say about him. He couldn’t close a deal. His poor project management could cost sweet innocent children their precious play space. The company that he’d worked so hard to build up would take a beating. He only hoped it didn’t come crashing down around his ears like a poorly built house of cards.
