Page 55 of Daddy's Game

Brock. He might be able to help. He’s a wizard of the world of high finance. Maybe he can throw the multinational a bone and get them away from rezoning my block…

I set my jaw hard, and gave up on that line of thought. Brock had never said he was giving up on getting the corner lot. If the zoning board decided to change the classification of my block, then he would be free to acquire my property. I’d have to sell, since I couldn’t operate my not for profit center in a commercial district.

I can’t trust Brock enough to ask him for help. I guess maybe things aren't as rosy with us as I’d thought.

It hurt, but I hardened my heart and put Brock out of my mind as much as I could. I couldn't rely on him this time.

This time, I would have to find a solution all on my own.

20

BROCK

Istepped into the lobby of Blackwell Towers, a two pronged office building that replaced the Shard as the tallest in London. I didn’t own the building – London’s property laws were complex – but I owned at least a part in every business that occupied its numerous offices and suites.

Most of them, I owned a controlling interest. That explained why the moment I stepped inside I instantly had a crew of hangers on trying to do whatever they could to please me.

They only grew more fawning, and kissed more ass while I tried to cross the lobby to reach the express elevator.

“Enough.”

My voice cut through the din and garnered instant silence.

“I’m not here to fire or promote anyone. It’s just some routine board business that I have to be physically present for. Therefore, all of your efforts are in vain and it’s best if you stop embarrassing yourselves.”

I stepped onto the elevator and nodded to the attendant. His friendly but ignorant smile said he had no idea who I was. I found that refreshing.

“Top floor, please.”

“My pleasure, Sir.”

How do the English always manage to sound so gracious even when they’re just doing the job they’re paid to do? It’s like I did him a favor by telling him to do his job.

My mind drifted back across the ocean to Grace. I longed to be near her. I missed her smile, her laugh, and her feisty chutzpah.

“Do you like this song, Sir?”

“I’m sorry?”

The attendant smiled awkwardly.

“I’m sorry to interrupt your thoughts, Sir. It's just, you were humming this song.”

Free Fallin’by Petty pumped over the speakers inside the elevator. I hadn’t realized I was singing along.

“No worries, kid.”

I tipped him generously as the doors opened. A carpeted hallway greeted my eyes, lined with busts of supposedly famous people I had never heard of.

I’m a business major, not a history major.

I reached the boardroom and then suffered through about three hours of talking heads.

I thought board meetings in America were dull and dry.

The long windedness of the executives gave me plenty of time to think about Grace, at least. I tried to remember when we’d started seeing each other. That proved difficult, given our murky start.

It all started because I tried to buy her building out from underneath her. Funny how the worm has turned. How long have we been seeing each other? Three months, at least. Maybe longer.

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