Page 46 of Worth the Risk
“You play?” I ask when he returns with two glasses of wine.
“Badly. But it helps me think.” He hands me a glass, his fingers brushing mine in a contact that sends warmth spiraling up my arm. “My grandfather taught me when I was twelve. He said music was important for men in business, that it kept them human.”
“Smart grandfather.”
“He would have liked you. He believed in community investment, supporting local organizations. He used to say that a man’s worth wasn’t measured by what he accumulated but by what he contributed.”
“That sounds like our philosophy.”
“Maybe that’s why I was drawn to your approach from the beginning.” Declan settles onto the sofa, and I join him, noting how the expensive cushions bring us closer together. “My father never understood his father’s community focus. He thought it was inefficient, sentimental.”
“What do you think?”
“I think my grandfather understood something about building lasting value that my father missed.” Declan takes a sip of wine, his gaze thoughtful, but I catch the way his fingers tighten around the glass. “Highland has been serving the community for twenty years with minimal resources. Pierce Enterprises builds luxury developments that generate profit for five years and then get sold off. Which approach creates more lasting value?”
“You’re asking the wrong person. I’m obviously biased toward my father’s model.”
“You’re exactly the right person to ask.” Declan sets down his wine and turns to face me more directly, and there’s an intensity in his expression that makes my pulse quicken. “Maya, I need you to understand something. The collaboration with Highland, the research into historic preservation, the advocacy I’m planning for Monday’s meeting—none of that is about impressing you or winning your approval.”
“What is it about?”
“It’s about discovering that there are better ways to measure success than the approach my father taught me. It’s about learning that some things are worth preserving even when demolition would be more profitable.”
I study his face, searching for any hint of corporate calculation or strategic positioning. Instead, I see vulnerability, uncertainty, a man questioning everything he was raised to believe about business and success. But underneath that, there’s something else—a tension that suggests he’s fighting battles I don’t fully understand.
“Declan.” I set down my own wine and move closer, close enough to see the gold flecks in his gray eyes, close enoughto notice the faint lines of stress around them. “Can I tell you something?”
“Anything.”
“When you first proposed the collaboration, I thought it was an elaborate stalling tactic. A way to neutralize Highland’s opposition while you finalized demolition plans.”
“And now?”
“Now I think you’re a man who’s trying to figure out who he wants to be when he’s not living up to his father’s expectations.” I reach up to trace the line of his jaw with my fingertips, feeling the tension there. “The difference is that my father’s legacy aligns with who I want to be. Yours doesn’t.”
“No,” he agrees quietly, and for a moment, his carefully controlled expression cracks, revealing something that looks like fear. “It doesn’t.”
“So what do you want, Declan? If you could build anything, be anyone, what would that look like?”
He’s quiet for a moment, his gaze drifting toward the windows where LA’s lights twinkle in the darkness. When he speaks, his voice is barely above a whisper. “I want to build things that matter. Developments that strengthen communities instead of displacing them. Projects that create value for residents, not just investors.”
“That sounds like a worthy goal.”
“It sounds impossible within Pierce Enterprises’ current structure.” His phone buzzes on the side table—probably work emails he’s ignoring for tonight—and the sound seems to pull him back from wherever his thoughts had wandered.
“Maybe Pierce Enterprises’ structure needs to change.”
“Maybe it does.” Declan’s gaze returns to my face, and I see him make a visible effort to push away whatever was troubling him. “But enough about corporate philosophy. I didn’t bring you here to discuss business strategy.”
“What did you bring me here for?”
“To show you who I am when I’m not representing Pierce Enterprises. To find out who you are when you’re not fighting for Highland’s survival.” His hand slides up to cup my face, and there’s an urgency in the gesture that makes me wonder if he’s thinking about how little time we might have. “To explore this thing between us without professional obligations getting in the way.”
“And what is this thing between us?”
“I don’t know yet. But I’d like to find out.”
He leans down to kiss me, and this time there’s nothing tentative about it. This kiss is hungry, searching, full of the desire that’s been building between us for weeks. But underneath the passion, I sense something else—a desperation that suggests he needs this connection as much as I do, maybe more.
