Page 81 of Buttons

I look at Robert. This deal represents roughly thirty million in projected revenue. It is the kind of project I used to live for. But then I look at the phone, seeing a third call coming in from Beatrix.

Pro: an obscene amount of money.

Con: disappointing my wife.

Easy decision.

I stand abruptly. Obviously, it’s no comparison.

“I’m sorry, Robert. I have to go.”

He blinks, his expression shifting from professional intensity to cold irritation. “Excuse me? We are in the middle of closing the most significant partnership in sustainable luxury architecture this decade. I have the contracts.”

“It’s an emergency,” I say, already grabbing my suit jacket from the back of the chair.

Robert stands as well, his face reddening. “If you walk out of this room, the offer goes with you. I don’t reschedule, Julian. I have three other firms waiting for this call.”

I pause at the door, the weight of the professional loss hitting me, but it doesn’t compare to the thought of Elowen facing that inspector alone while her dream hangs by a thread.

“Then I lose it,” I say firmly. “My wife needs me at her cat sanctuary. She is more important than this or any other contract.”

Robert lets out a sharp, derisive scoff, shaking his head as he begins to pack his laptop. “Throwing away a career-defining collaboration for a hobby and a woman? Good luck with that, Plaza. Don’t bother calling my office.”

Asshole. I’m already out the door, moving toward the elevator with a focus that has everything to do with a button-nosed woman and a skittish cat named Balthazar.

The dashboard clock reads three-forty by the time I pull into the gravel lot. When I burst through the sanctuary doors, chaos hitsme immediately. Volunteers scurry, carrying towels and empty carriers, their voices overlapping in urgent whispers. The floors we installed last week are now marred by muddy footprints. And in the center of it all stands a small man tapping his pen on his chin. The health inspector. His expression suggests he’s already decided this place is another failed project.

“Julian!” Beatrix’s voice cuts through the commotion. She strides toward me, gray hair escaping her bun. I’ve never seen her look this frazzled. “Thank God. We’ve got a situation.”

“I gathered that from your calls and texts,” I say, already scanning the room for orange fur or angry yellow eyes. “Where’s Balthazar?”

“If we knew that I wouldn’t have called you.” I used to fire people who spoke to me in that tone, but the edge in her voice isn’t personal. Now I just nod. I mean, it was a stupid question.

“The inspection wasn’t scheduled until next week,” I say, shrugging off my suit jacket and draping it over the reception counter.

“They rescheduled this morning. Said it was today or six weeks from now. We weren’t ready, but—”

“But six weeks would mean missing our open house,” I finish for her, knowing it is not as simple as delaying the opening. It would push operating costs into the next fiscal quarter, requiring additional bridge funding. Elowen’s budget would collapse. She’s already poured funding into the building and would continue to make payments despite not being open.

The inspector clears his throat. “Mr…?”

“Plaza,” I supply, not offering my hand. He doesn’t strike me as someone who appreciates interruptions to his schedule. I know the type. I was the type.

“Mr. Plaza. I have another facility to inspect in thirty minutes. If all animals aren’t properly contained by then, I’m afraid thiswill be an automatic failure. For all I know, this feral cat is urinating and defecating all over the place.”

“Not feral,” I explain. “Balthazar is afraid and needs additional socialization, but he’s appropriate for our—I mean, my wife’s—program. And I can assure you, all will be perfectly sanitized.” Then, because he appears bored, I finish with, “We appreciate your patience. Everything will be in order shortly.”

I spot Leo across the room, standing near the cat habitat entrance. His small face is tense with worry, hands clutching a bag of treats. My son, worried about a shelter cat and his mother’s dream.

“Dad!” He rushes over, voice low but urgent. “Mom picked us up from day camp, and then Balthazar got scared when the inspector came in. He was out for socialization practice, and he bolted. Sarah tried to get him, but he scratched her and ran.”

I scan the room again, noting potential hiding spots. “Where have you looked?”

“E-everywhere,” Leo says, his voice catching. “He’s not in any of his usual places.”

Sarah approaches, a fresh scratch visible on her forearm. “Julian, thank God. We found him. He’s behind the storage cabinet in the supply room, hissing like crazy when anyone gets close.”

“How long has he been there?”