Page 25 of Confusing Cade
If there was one thing I understood, it was how important it was to keep public and private lives separate. Doing so and doing it well was paramount. Besides, what Bella did on FanZone really wasn’t the business of anyone who would attend the ribbon cutting.
“I think it’s admirable,” I said, staring at her. “Your loyalty to your sister is commendable.”
“Lilly’s very smart. She’s thriving at school, and I wouldn’t want to deny her the opportunity because we couldn’t pay the tuition.”
“But why didn’t you just sell the old headquarters?”
She scoffed. “I’ve tried to sell that old building, but I can’t find a buyer. It’s not zoned for much else either, so even if I wanted to, I couldn’t get anyone with the city to change that.”
I wrinkled my nose. That was believable. As business friendly as Palm Beach County could be, there were still pockets of resistance, red tape, and rigmarole. Sometimes, it took a real heavy weight to get anywhere.
“Let me see if I can help you with that,” I said. “No promises, but I know a lot of people who handle zoning, and hearing from me might help get that unlocked.”
Her face brightened. “You’d do that?”
“It might take a few calls, but it’s worth seeing if hearing from me will get that to move in the right direction. I’m sure selling it would bring you a windfall.”
She nodded, but then the corners of her mouth turned downward as she pursed her lips and looked away. “Still, I wish I didn’t have to sell it.”
“Well, maybe there are other opportunities for it,” I tried. “Sounds like we need to change the zoning first.”
Bella seemed to accept that, and we went over the intricate details during the next few points of the meeting. As we talked, I grew excited to share them with her because she was the first person, except my employees, to hear about all the progress. Even the carefully curated leaks I’d made to the media over the last year fell far short of my true plans for Palm Beach Promenade.
“This is way more than I expected,” Bella said as we surveyed the model. I’d pointed out how the playground on the east side of the development would have inclusive features for children of all abilities. “And this is really kind of you.”
“It will also attract more people to the site, and that’s the goal. I want the Promenade to become the unofficial Main Street of downtown West Palm Beach.”
She tilted her head, a slight frown knitting her eyebrows together. “Really?”
She was skeptical. I didn’t blame her for that.
“It’s right on the edge, so there’s no reason it can’t be,” I added.
“Just a bold idea. I don’t think anyone is expecting that, not with so much effort put into Clematis Street and the district around it in the last ten years.”
“Well, I like to think differently.”
“I’m starting to see that,” she said, and we regarded each other once again. Something had changed about her in thelast few minutes. There was something softer and warmer behind her eyes than there had been when she walked into the conference room half an hour earlier. And I felt softer too. Regardless of whatever mixed feelings I had about Gino Moretti, his daughter wasn’t him. She was her own person, with her own point of view.
“I want you to take home this portfolio and think about what you might add to it, what you think is missing.” I took a few steps to the doorway, motioning her to follow me. I might have wanted to extend our meeting, but I couldn’t. “And I wish I could stay longer, but I have a client dinner party at seven that I have to get to.”
“Oh, that sounds fun,” she said, trailing a few steps behind me.
“Trust me, there is nothing I dread more than entertaining people who are only after me for the money I’ll invest in their project.”
“Wouldn’t have guessed that, considering I ran into you at a fundraiser.”
I opened the door to the hallway, holding it wide for her, and as she walked past me toward the elevator, her body brushed close enough that I felt the faint heat radiating from her skin. It was unintentional, but it sent a jolt through me, sharpening my senses.
Then came the wave of fragrance from her bouncing locks, hitting me like a seductive whisper. Bright and citrusy, evoking fresh oranges peeled on a summer morning, layered with a soft, calming hint of lavender that lingered just long enough to make me pause, inhaling deeper than I should. Was it hairspray? No, too clean and natural for that, and too intimate. Shampoo, maybe, or some custom perfume designed to drive a man to distraction. Something expensive, deliberate, the kind that clings to your hair like a signature, teasing anyone who gets tooclose. God, it suited her perfectly: vibrant, elusive, pulling me in even as I fought to keep my distance.
She glanced back over her shoulder, her eyes meeting mine with a half-smile that tugged at something deep in my chest. “I actually care about that cause,” she said, her voice light but laced with a challenge, as if daring me to question her sincerity.
“You do?”
She nodded.
“Me too,” I said, thinking of my mother. I swallowed hard, my gaze dipping for a split second to the curve of her neck, exposed by the way her hair swayed with each step. The scent trailed behind her like an invisible thread, drawing me forward against my better judgment.
