Page 61 of Billion Dollar Dispute

Biting my tongue, I can’t help but blurt out. “Is that your mom?”

The jealous tone that seeps into my voice even surprises me. I know it’s not his mom, but I’m rattled by how easily he shakes me up. He seems too good to be true, and I just want to catch him in a lie.

“No, that’s my personal assistant,” he replies, glancing at me with a hint of amusement.

I tilt my head to look at his profile. “And you can’t organize your own suits?”

The muscle in his jaw tightens slightly. “I can, but delegating tasks like that allows me to focus on important projects.”

I’ve read about how successful people delegate minor tasks to stay productive. Why did I let it bother me? Why did I say anything at all?Because I’m jealous.

Harvey’s calm explanation only makes my earlier outburst feel more ridiculous. He’s just being practical, and I need to remind myself that there’s nothing wrong with that.

Chapter 16

Harvey

After a long stakeholdermeeting, I retreat to my office, which feels strangely cold. I can’t quite pinpoint why it feels different? It’s not that the office is shit. In fact, it’s a dream workspace for most people. Compared to Jemima’s, my office is luxurious, dark gray walls, a plush gray rug, glass-top tables, and splashes of dark purple in the artwork and cushions. Normally, it exudes a cozy, inviting atmosphere. But tonight, as I gaze out at the city lights, it doesn’t feel right. It’s not that I miss Jemima’s cluttered offices, but something is off.

The sharp ring of my desk phone interrupts my thoughts. I hesitate, considering ignoring it, but with a heavy sigh, I stride over and pick it up.

“Esme,” I answer.

“Hi, Mr. Lincoln, the tailor is here for your suit. Are you ready?” Esme asks.

“Yes,” I respond, then hang up.

The suit, a new dark green velvet outfit with black lapels, a white shirt, and a black bow tie, is perfect for Oliver’s gallery celebration. When my assistant brings in the tailor, I ask her to reschedule my monthly hairdresser appointment to Saturday. I want to look sharp.

After the tailor leaves, I wrap up the strategic review of the day, making final adjustments to my plans. A quick call to my managers ensures everything is in place before I head off home for poker night. I’m relieved it’s at my place tonight, because juggling work and Jemima’s responsibilities is exhausting. Soon, I’ll step back and only need weekly meetings with her to discuss new risks, strategies, and operational assessments.

There’s something fulfilling about witnessing Jemima’s passion for the business. Despite not starting it herself, she’s learning as she goes, her disorganized and chaotic approach adding to her charm. Though I’m tempted to guide her my way, I don’t want to take away the uniqueness she brings as she masters things like the design brief, reminding me why my father wanted me to learn this. Watching hard work turn something around and help it thrive is something special.

I get home with ten minutes to spare before the boys arrive.

My staff has prepared a selection of food. The poker room is dimly lit in the basement, with exposed brown brick, and a glass wall separating the wine cellar and bar. I pour myself a glass of wine and take a seat at the large oval poker table, which matches the purple theme of my office. As voices sound upstairs, I add some country music to fill the room, and then greet Lukas, Gabino, Richard, Jeremy, Evan, and Oliver.

Cards are shuffled, dealt, and the game begins.

Our conversation shifts to work, and Oliver brings up his upcoming party, ensuring we all remember.As if any of us could forget.

“I met Jemima properly today,” Oliver announces. “You should see how hot she looks when she’s talking about art,” he adds, causing me to tense.

My jaw is rigid at his obvious admiration, and I can’t help but feel protective. “She’s a woman, give her some respect.”

“Technically, she’s a mom,” Oliver retorts, raising an eyebrow.

“What?” Jeremy asks, leaning forward as if he’s never heard about her being a single mother. Though she isn’t my usual type, she’s different. Mature, confident, feisty, but also an incredible mother. Something I never thought I’d care about.

“Yeah, single mom to a six-year-old,” I confirm, annoyed that we are discussing her personal life.

“Are you serious about her?” Evan’s voice cuts through the chatter, silencing the room. When our older brother speaks, we listen.

There’s something in the way he cares about me that makes me be honest with him. He might actually have some genuine advice unlike my annoying brother Oliver. “I can’t be serious with someone whose business I’m rebuilding,” I say, placing a bet. “My money won’t work to lure her in.”

Plus, it doesn’t help that she’s not interested in me…The usual tricks for women don’t work with her.

“So, where's the ex?” Evan asks, and I feel the hairs on my neck stand up as I think about him and Danny. Their friendship, and the hurt they have caused Jemima.

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