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8. Haylee

8

HAYLEE

A fter Jillian thrust this stupid bouquet of sunflowers at me and marched me out the door this morning, I now find myself standing at the security desk in the fancy foyer at Jackson Enterprises. The last place I thought I’d ever be.

“I’m sorry, miss, we can’t let you up,” the security man says from behind the desk. Decked out in a professional uniform, a small consistent frown mars his face that makes him unapproachable. He is friendly enough but is obviously bored with me already. I look around and try to think. The foyer of this building is grand. All marble, lots of natural sunlight from the large windows at the front. People are coming and going all around us, the glittering light from the massive chandelier above me throwing beams across the space.

“Fine. Ten bucks,” I say, sliding a ten-dollar bill across the sleek surface of the desk he hides behind. I am not above bribery. I would prefer not to be here at all, but Jillian was adamant that this is how we’ll save the shop. By feeding me to the sharks. Or shark. Just one. The deadliest.

“I’m sorry, but—”

I cut him off before he can reject me totally.

“Okay. Twenty. It’s all I got.” My heart pounds as I slide a second ten-dollar bill across the smooth marble counter. I was saving this money to get my nephew, Charlie, his schoolbooks next year. Hoping the help I can provide my sister is enough to ease her burden. But alas, I now have a shop to save, all due to the very man I am trying to see. The security officer looks down at the two bills that now sit near my hand and sighs as his lips thin.

“I can’t give you a pass,” he says, and my shoulders sag. I knew it was a long shot.

“But…” he continues as his hand grabs the money and he slips it from the counter and into his pocket inconspicuously. “There is a woman on your left in a red coat. Follow her. That is his assistant, Angela,” he says quietly before he turns and starts tapping on his computer and the security doors open for the lady in the red coat. My eyebrows rise, because I thought I would have had to start begging or maybe stand out front like a stalker all day until he came down. If he ever comes down into this lobby. The way the security is here, he probably has a secret side entrance or something.

“Thanks,” I whisper, giving him a wink before I quickly blend in with the crowd of workers, following the lady in the red coat into the elevator. I can’t see her face, but she looks dressed for business. The coat looks warm yet very fashionable and her heels are high and shiny. In fact, everyone around me looks like they spend a lot on their wardrobe. Glancing around the crowded space, I spot only perfect hair and perfect clothes, extremely corporate, and I hide toward the back behind suits and skirts. I am the odd one out. A few people look at me, but almost everyone is too busy staring down at their cell phones. Running my hands over my hair, I attempt to flatten the annoying yet familiar frizz that has built up. I hate the wet days as winter approaches.

The elevator stops at a few floors and people start to disembark, giving me more room to breathe without inhaling the toxicity of the perfume now feeling like it sits on top of me like a heavy storm cloud. I rub my nose, trying to get rid of the heavy scent before I start sneezing and cause people to pay me any attention. As the elevator continues to ascend, I realize it is just Angela and me left, and she looks at me as we rise to the top floors.

“Do you have an appointment?” she asks, just as the doors open on the top floor. My heart picks up pace. I didn’t have a game plan for this part because I didn’t think I would make it this far. I look past her and gulp. This isn’t an ordinary office floor. There is nothing here in this great expanse of a foyer except for a large desk, which I assume is hers. With no other excuse, I give her the truth.

“I’m here to surprise Alex,” I say as I follow her for a few steps before she stops and looks at me. Her eyes canvass me up and down, and I yank on my ear as subtly as I can while I melt under her assessment.

I am not dressed for this occasion. I am just in my jeans and t-shirt, and my Converse need to be cleaned. Thank God I painted my nails and put on a face mask last night, though, so at least my skin is glowing, and I feel somewhat put together.

“Alex?” she questions, tilting her head, her eyes narrowing. She seems like a nice lady, older, a bit mom like.

“Yes. I want to give him these and to thank him for chatting with me over the weekend,” I tell her, and she looks perplexed.

“Are they sunflowers?” she asks with an inquisitive look in her eyes.

“Yes. They are the best flower to brighten someone’s day.” I repeat my father’s mantra. He gets my mom sunflowers every few weeks. It is a great way to keep the love alive, if you ask me. Angela’s eyes flare in surprise.

“He doesn’t see anyone without an appointment,” she says, but I can see her hesitating.

“Would you at least ask if he will see me? Just tell him Haylee with two E ’s is here for him. He will know who it is.”

“Haylee with two E ’s?” Her face softens as she confirms my name.

“That’s me.” I smile, feeling like a fish out of water. She walks a few paces to her desk and picks up her phone. Holy shit, she’s doing it. I’m in.

It is sparse, stark white, and cold up here, but even without any fancy décor taking up the space, I know the finishes are quality as they glimmer beneath the overhead lighting. A meeting room is off to the side, full glass walls, a boardroom table beyond it, and a large glossy black door slightly down the hall that is closed, which I assume is his office. Stepping closer to the floor-to-ceiling windows, I start to feel a little woozy. We are really high up and there’s no one or nothing else up here.

“Mr. Jackson, there is a Haylee with two E ’s here to see you,” Angela says, watching me. I swallow as I look back at her, and her eyebrows rise. “Yes, sir,” she says before hanging up the phone.

“Well, right this way.” She sounds a bit too surprised, and I follow her like a pig to slaughter. Her shiny black stilettos click on the polished marble floor, the echo making me feel like the end is coming.

“You could do with a bit of color in here,” I murmur to her.

“It would be nice,” she agrees with a small grin, still looking at me inquisitively, obviously trying to figure out who I am.

We get to the large door and stop. This is stupid. Why am I even doing this? I start to hesitate, my palms sweating and my hands slipping on the cheap plastic surrounding this stupid bunch of sunflowers. But before I can back out, she knocks.

“Enter.” I hear his voice on the other side, and my mouth dries.

“Haylee’s here to see you.” As Angela opens the door, I look beyond her and get a glimpse of his office—all natural light with huge city skyline views. I try to swallow my nerves as I walk inside. Might as well get this over with.

“Thank you, Angela,” he says formally, rising to stand at the side of his desk. The door clicks behind me as Angela leaves, and I look around. This office is huge. Almost bigger than the entire Tucker store. But it still feels empty. There are no photos, no trinkets, no color. It’s lifeless.

“I don’t usually take visitors.” He crosses his arms and leans against his desk, assessing me. I don’t falter as I look back at him.

“Hi, Alex. Good to see you too,” I say with sarcasm and internally cringe. I need to be nice. I need to be nice.

With a sigh, he drops his hands, one sliding into his pocket, the other tapping on his desk. “What can I do for you?” he asks, not showing any hint of amusement. Apparently, we are back to scowls and short words.

“I brought you some sunflowers,” I blurt, thrusting the bouquet toward him. Could I be any more awkward?

“Sunflowers?” He frowns, my arm remaining outstretched while he stands rigid. His fingers stop tapping as he looks at the flowers like they are the oddest thing he has ever seen.

“Yes. They are the best flower to brighten anyone’s day,” I repeat the mantra once again and smile, stepping closer and lifting the bouquet like a peace offering. I have never given a man flowers before. I’m not even sure if men actually accept them, and now as my hand stays outreached, and he doesn’t move an inch to take them, I feel my cheeks heat and the deep need to pull at my ear is almost debilitating. But I refrain.

“What did you just say?” he asks, the question leaving his mouth quietly, and I notice his face looks conflicted. It has me hesitating.

“Ahh, they are the best flowers to brighten anyone’s day… I mean, I could have brought the bag of dicks, but Deloris pretty much confiscated them all,” I add as I try to break this awkward tension. His face softens a little at that, his lips curving the slightest bit, and I smile wide. He almost smiled, and I know when he does that, it will be enough to break hearts.

“I’ll just put them here.” Laying the flowers on his desk, I spot his computer and cell, lots of paperwork, and what looks to be an expensive pen that I imagine he signs important documents with. I wonder what his signature looks like.

“Anything else?” he asks, and I look back at him quickly before I steel myself.

“Yes,” I say, nodding, keeping my shoulders back and taking another breath.

“There always is.” He sounds resigned, and I suddenly feel bad that I am about to beg him not to take our store. But as I take another look around at his expensive office, the lush lounge armchairs that look like they have never been used, the bar in the corner filled with whiskey, any semblance of guilt falls to the wayside. Especially once I spot a label that looks like Whiteman’s and roll my eyes. That shit is ridiculously expensive.

Ready to tell him exactly what I need, my eyes settle back on his desk. It is large, mahogany, and just like my dad’s. Brow furrowing, I step forward to touch it.

“Where did you get this desk from?” I ask.

“It was my father’s. Why?” My eyes don’t leave the wood as I feel him moving toward me.

“My dad has the exact same one,” I tell him, looking over it, seeing the familiar markings and branding.

“Really? This is decades old. I am sure they just look similar.”

I nod. He is probably right.

“I don’t want to rush you, but I have a meeting to get to,” he says, stiffening again, and I swallow as I meet his piercing eyes.

“I came here to beg you…” I start to say, straightening my shoulders.

“Beg me?” he asks, one eyebrow rising as his arms cross over his chest.

“Your company owns the building that houses Tucker Toys. Recently, you have increased the rent, and it is now too much. We can’t afford it.” It takes everything in me to keep a steady voice.

He nods as I see him think about what I’ve said for a moment before he comes to understanding.

“I asked my leasing manager to review all leases and bring them up to market rates.”

“But that is just the thing. Our rent hasn’t increased in years. Literally decades. And now it is astronomical.”

He remains rooted to the ground, his frown deepening.

“That is business.” He says it like it is just a matter of fact.

“I understand that, but we are going to go out of business if you raise the rent, especially by that much, so suddenly. Maybe over time, we can make it work, adjust our cash flow and reallocate our budgets, but to increase it so much and so quickly, we can’t manage it. We will need to close, and Tucker Toys is an institution in this city. We can’t lose it.” My tone has turned pleading, imploring him to understand.

“Is that why you called me a dickwad?” he asks, and I internally groan. It’s enough to have my nerves lessening and annoyance sneaking back to the surface.

“No. I didn’t even know who you were then. That was just me being me,” I tell him honestly.

“So I am a dickwad?” he asks, and I frown in confusion.

“Yes… I mean… you were that day, yes,” I stutter out, thinking back to the moment we ran into each other in the street. It feels like a lifetime ago, not just a mere week.

“You were having a seizure…”

I roll my eyes. Why is he bringing this up right now?

“I was not having a seizure. I stubbed my toe and almost ran into you. Or you almost ran into me,” I continue, getting animated as my hands start waving around.

“And now you want me to save your shop?” he asks, and I stall. Shit . That’s why he’s playing this little recollection game. The woman begging for help is the same one who called him a dickwad.

My hand goes to my ear, and I pull as I take in a breath. I feel a little out of my depth here in his office in the sky, but I can’t mess this up. It is our only chance.

“Yes, but I mean, then I got to know you, and we talked some more—” I’m cut off by his assistant's voice over the intercom. I was so in the zone, it jolted me a bit. My heart’s now racing all over again.

“Alexander, Sheridan and Laurent are here, as requested.”

“Send them in,” he replies, and I wonder who Sheridan and Laurent are.

“If you would just consider leaving the rent as is…” I start to talk faster, knowing he is about to kick me out of his office.

“Alexander?” A voice sounds from behind me, and I turn, seeing a woman in sky-high black stilettos, a corporate black dress, with hair that is long and glossy, the complete opposite of my bird’s nest. She is absolutely stunning.

“We can come back,” the man next to her says, and my eyes flick to him. He is wearing what looks to be a tartan suit, very colorful, and his shoes are shiny, his hair also perfect. I squeeze my ear to the point I think it is going to disintegrate in my fingers.

“Come in. Close the door,” Alex says abruptly.

“Please!” I beg, probably for the last time I’ll get to, as I turn swiftly and step closer to look at Alex. He stands firm, looking down at me, and I take in a sharp breath, not realizing how close that step brought me. His eyes assess me, and he must see the desperation written across my forehead. I feel like his hardness melts as his eyes warm from a darker brown to something molten. I get lost in them for a moment, until the door clicks closed and Laurent speaks again.

“Everything alright here?” he asks, and I start to panic all over again. My breathing grows rapid. My sister is going to kill me. I have lost the only opportunity we had to save the store. I briefly think about literally falling to my knees like she said, but I refrain.

“Everything is fine,” Alex says, his eyes not leaving mine. We stare at each other for another beat before he clears his throat and looks up at them both, breaking our connection. My heart plummets as failure creeps up my spine.

“Laurent. Sheridan. I would like you to meet Haylee… my fiancée.”

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