Love so Hot (Misfit Millionaires #1)

Chapter 49Lawrence

Chapter Forty-Nine

Lawrence

Present

I shuffle the papers in front of me and shoot a glance at Jason. He gives me a nod, all meticulous composure and sharp angles, his thin-rimmed glasses catching the light as he leans back in his chair. The conference room feels too big for just the two of us, with its sprawling mahogany table and the faint hum of the air conditioner.

"Relax," Jason murmurs, eyes fixed on the door. "You've got this."

I'm about to respond when the door swings open. Billy Hargraves strides in, his presence filling the room. His gaze is stern, his brows knitted but there's something in his eyes that isn't just hard business.

"Mr. Sinclair," he greets, extending a hand that swallows mine. His grip is firm.

"Call me Lawrence," I say, plastering on a smile. "And I believe you know my CFO, Jason Whitaker."

"Nice to see you," Jason says, offering a curt nod, his voice smooth.

"Jay," Billy nods back before taking a seat across from us. "My secretary tells me you simply wouldn't give up and demanded a meeting. I like your gusto. So, let's hear what you've got."

I dive right in. "The pipeline from Greenwood Hollow to Norfolk is more than steel and valves. It's a lifeline, connecting resources to needs, rural to urban."

I lean forward, my palms flat against the table. "And your investment? It's the spark that lights the whole thing up. Legitimacy. It will breed high returns, new jobs, growth for everyone involved."

Billy listens, his eyes flicking between me and the projections on the screen, considering, calculating. I can almost hear the gears turning in Jason's head too—always one step ahead, always counting the cost and the payoff.

Billy listens quietly, which I find a little disconcerting. The man is usually the center of attention. The sort that has a voice that can be heard and felt across the room. But right now, he's silent.

I share a glance with Jay and he chimes in, the slightest hint of forced enthusiasm breaking through his usual ice. "It's a calculated move towards substantial fiscal growth."

I nod along, hoping our pitch is landing. This is it—the final piece. Sure, we could start construction without Hargraves' support, but their investment essentially guarantees that the project will be a success.

Billy leans back in the chair and I try not to show that I'm holding my breath as he speaks. "I gotta be honest, boys, I sort of thought you were here to ask for my blessing about the engagement."

"Engagement?" I sputter, my well-rehearsed pitch derailing like a train off its tracks. The documents in front of me suddenly seem irrelevant. Beside me, Jason's eyebrows shoot up, a silent question.

"Yes, the engagement to Wilhelmina. We're all thrilled," Billy beams, misinterpreting our surprise for modesty.

"Wilhelmina?" My voice cracks. I glance at Jason again, his expression now a mask of forced neutrality.

"Oh, I guess she goes by 'Willow' now. Willow Harper," Billy clarifies with a slight roll of his eyes. "Her mother had a real fit when she found out that she'd formally changed her name. I tried to tell her it wasn't a completely lost cause, and I was right! If she agreed to marry you, Sinclair, then she must have given up on all that eco-stuff."

That's when my throat goes completely dry. "Because Willow Harper is..." my words trail off, even though I'm trying to pretend that I obviously know what Billy's talking about.

"Wilhelmina Hargraves," he continues, oblivious to my inner turmoil. "My daughter."

The room spins, and it's not from the aftertaste of the morning's bitter coffee. The connection clicks, loud as a gunshot in my thoughts. Willow, the passionate environmentalist who'd raged against the corporate machine—my corporate machine—with fierce determination. And now, her father sits across from me, ready to hand over the future of my pipeline project.

"Right, Willow," I manage to say, feeling a bead of sweat trail down my spine. "We, uh, wanted your blessing."

"Marriage is a blessed union indeed," he muses, leaning back. "I'm glad to see she has found someone who shares her vision. It bodes well for the future."

"Absolutely," I affirm weakly, desperate to steer us back to safer waters. But the conversation has taken on a life of its own, and I'm caught in the current, floundering.

I clear my throat, trying to find my footing. "I'm sorry that we didn't connect over this sooner," I say. "She never mentioned anything about her family, and I didn't push it." That part was at least honest.

"Ah, she hasn't been around much," he says, a flicker of something—regret?—crossing his features. "Estranged herself from our ways. Over the environment and such."

"I'm sorry. That must have been difficult." It all starts to click in my mind now. The etiquette training, her intimate knowledge of corporate governance, the local initiatives she wanted to start. Plus Hargraves showing up at the local country club and the wine festival. I'd mistaken that as interest in the pipeline, but clearly he was just trying to reconnect with his daughter.

He nods solemnly. "She always had strong convictions. Too strong for her own good, sometimes."

"Understandable," I reply.

"Wasn't easy for us, you know. Losing a daughter." His gaze drifts past me. "Especially for her mother."

"Must've been tough," I agree, my voice softer now.

"Which is why this engagement... it gives hope." He looks at me with an intensity that pins me to my seat.

"Hope?" That word feels too big, too heavy for what's really a sham between Willow and me. But I nod, playing along, because what else can I do?

"Yes, hope," he continues. "You see, initially, I hesitated to invest. Feared it would drive her further away. But maybe she's found a way to reconcile her ideals with the world as it is. Your engagement could be a sign of that."

There's a hopeful glint in his eye, and I can't bring myself to snuff it out. Instead, I sit there, nodding, while inside, a storm of panic begins to brew.

"You know her better than I do, Mr. Hargraves," I say to him. "I'm not sure what I can really do to help smooth things over."

Billy waves a hand dismissively. "In your position you can do a lot. You just need the proper motivation."

"Motivation?" I repeat. A knot forms in my gut, thick and heavy.

"Of course, this investment..." His voice trails off, and I brace myself for the catch. "It hinges on one small condition."

"Condition?" My voice cracks slightly.

He leans back, studying me. "I'd like to speak with Willow. A father-daughter call, arranged by you."

My throat tightens. How can I arrange a call when Willow won't even answer my texts?

Before I can confess there's no hope of that call happening, Jason leans in. "Absolutely," he says smoothly. "We'll set it up. No problem at all."

Relief floods Billy's features. "Wonderful. Then we have an understanding." He stands, extending a hand which I shake mechanically, feeling like I'm sealing a deal with the devil himself.

"Thank you," he says, warmth in his voice. "For bringing hope back into our family."

The door shuts behind him, leaving me reeling, wondering how in the world we're going to pull off this impossible promise. I whirl on Jason, my hands clenched into fists at my sides.

"Are you out of your mind?" I hiss, glaring daggers at him. "We can't set up a call with Willow. I don't know where she is, let alone how to contact her!"

Jason doesn't even flinch. He adjusts his glasses with a calmness that grates on my frayed nerves. "Relax," he says coolly. "We'll figure something out."

"Figure something out?" I snap. Heat crawls up the back of my neck, a telltale sign of my temper boiling over. "This isn't some numbers game you can manipulate, Jay. This is real life, and we're in deep."

"Lawrence, come on." His voice is a steady anchor in the storm of my panic. "You think I'd offer without having a backup plan?"

"Then enlighten me!" I throw my hands up, pacing the length of the room like a caged animal. "Because right now, it feels like we just signed up for mission impossible."

Jason watches me pace, not a single crease of worry marring his composed face. I can't decide if I want to shake him or beg him for his secret to staying so damn unruffled.

"Sit down," he finally says, gesturing to the chair across from him. "I'm not saying it'll be easy, but we've handled worse."

"Have we?" I flop into the chair, the fight seeping out of me as the reality of our situation sinks in. "This isn't a simple fix. We're talking about Willow—unpredictable, passionate, nowhere-to-be-found Willow. Or, I guess we should call her Wilhelmina now."

"Exactly," Jason says, tapping his finger on the table. "Unpredictable means she could be anywhere, doing anything. Which also means there's a chance she'll pop up again."

"Or she won't," I mutter, dread pooling in my stomach.

"Or she won't," he concedes with a shrug.

I give him a look, but he doesn't care.

"This is a nothing-to-lose sort of situation," Jason says.

"How do you figure that?" I ask. "Because, the way I look at it, it's losing on all sides."

"If you told Hargraves the engagement was fake, he would never give you funding. So, you had to let him think it was real."

"Okay, and?"

"Since he thinks it's real, he was always going to condition his investment on you arranging this call? Way I see it, the moment you entered into that arrangement with Willow, you guaranteed this request from Hargraves. You just didn't know it yet."

I sigh and rub my temples. "I guess that makes sense."

"Until we hit that wall, we keep climbing. Agreed?"

I sigh, the weight of the world pressing down on me.

"Agreed," I say, though I'm not sure who I'm trying to convince more—him or myself.