Page 75 of Do It With Me

“I know. They’re going to fight me, but this is my company. I still make the decisions here.”

Jimmy leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms as his expression sobered. “You won’t get any arguments from me, boss, but let’s be real. Crews have already been hired. Architects have drawn up plans. We’ve got ironclad contracts with all of our suppliers and the tenants and owners we’ve already bought out. If you try to back out now, they’re gonna sue the pants off us. All of them.”

“We’ve got an army of lawyers. We’ll deal with it when it happens.”

“Deal with it?” He laughed, a short and disbelieving scoff that said a lot more than his actual words. “What you’re talking about is millions in penalties. Maybe tens of millions.”

“I don’t care.”

He stared at me for a long moment, then shook his head. “Jesus, you really are in deep. I⁠—”

“Set up a meeting,” I said, cutting him off. “Get the construction crews, the architects, the lawyers, and everyone else with skin in this deal together. I want them all in the same room by the end of the week. And convene an emergency meeting of the board. I want to talk to them. Today.”

Jimmy hesitated, his eyes widening to the point of pain this time. “You’re serious?”

“Dead serious. Get it done, Jimmy. The sooner I talk to them, the sooner we start limiting our losses.”

He stared at me like I’d lost my mind. Hell, maybe I had. “Are you even hearing yourself right now? Limiting our losses? To what? You’re talking about throwing away literal millions over a woman you’ve known for, what, a few months? Maybe you should sleep on it.”

“I’ve already done that. This is my decision and you can either do what you’re told, or get the fuck out of my building.” I met his stare, my voice quiet but resolute. “She’s not just some woman, and the sooner you realize that, the better it’ll be for the both of us.”

“Look, you know I respect you. Shit, I even love you, man. Seriously, but this is potentially suicide.” He blew out a long, slow breath. “You’re too far into this deal to get out easily.”

“That’s why I need you to help me dig us out.”

He sighed, bringing his hands up to rub his temples. “I’ll see what I can do, but I’m telling you right now that it’s not going to be clean.”

“I don’t care,” I said, my voice hard now. I was done debating this. “Just find a way.”

He gave me a long look, then finally nodded and stood up. “I’ll have the board ready for you within the hour. Executive conference room, but be ready, Holden. You’re going in there to face a firing squad and they’re not going to be nice just because your name is on the wall.”

With that final warning, he left, and when the door shut behind him, I slumped into my chair, staring out the window, the weight of everything pressing down on me. I’d built this empire brick by brick out of what had once been a failing construction business.

I’d clawed my way out of the wreckage of my marriage and promised myself I’d never make another decision with my heart. Yet here I was, ready to burn it all down for her. Now all I could do was plead my case to a board I’d put together and hope that they trusted me enough to let me shift directions so drastically.

A few hours later, I stormed out of the boardroom, so pissed off that my vision blurred around the edges. My jaw ached from clenching it for the past two hours while a group of suits tried to tell me how to run my own damn company.

Jimmy kept pace beside me, holding his tablet against his chest like a shield. “They’re not budging, man. You pull the plug and you’ll be wrapped up in litigation hell for years.”

I slammed my palm against the elevator button hard enough that my palm stung. “By the time the courts sort it out, they’ll have bulldozed the whole damn block anyway. It’ll be too late.”

“Look, I get it,” Jimmy said as the elevator doors slid shut. “I do. You’re trying to do right by her, but this is still a billion-dollar project. I know I said it earlier, but that’s why the board is insisting we follow through. We’ve got contracts, investors⁠—”

“I know what we have, but I’ll find a way out of this mess. I just need time to think.”

He sighed but didn’t argue. Even Jimmy seemed to realize that I was way past listening. My mind was made up, and if the board wouldn’t play ball, then fuck them.

When I was with Ellora, the world felt like it could be rewritten. Like the impossible suddenly had a shot at being entirely the opposite. She had that effect on me, making me feel like I wasn’t just fixing things for money or legacy, but for something that actually mattered.

Instead of going back to my office, I headed home, texting her on the elevator ride down to the parking garage.

Me: I need to see you tonight. Anywhere is fine, but it’s urgent.

No reply had come by the time I got to my car. My phone pinged with dozens of texts and emails on my way back to the penthouse, but none from her. The city lights were coming on as I reached my building, glowing gold and blue against the dusk.

All I wanted was to collapse on the couch, pour myself a generous scotch, and figure out my next move, but I needed to see her. She needed to know what was going on. I would have told her yesterday, as soon as I’d realized, if we hadn’t been at her first Second Story Sunday.

She deserved to savor the day, enjoy the fruits of her labor, and honor the memory of her mother in peace.

Now, however, things were happening too fast. While I was willing to go to war with the board, I knew that the smarter way to go about it was to think through my options, and I wanted to do that with her, so that she knew what was happening.

As I stepped off the elevator on my floor, I saw something white fixed against the dark backdrop of my front door. Papers pinned neatly to the wood.

My stomach sank as soon as I got close enough to see the letterhead. It was a tenant buyout agreement. From the Renewal Initiative.

Her name—Ellora Kinney—was signed at the bottom in big, looping letters, and underneath, in sharp blue ink, she’d written four words that hit harder than anything I’d ever faced in a boardroom.

Never contact me again.