Page 33 of Damaged Enemy Next Door

“Poor Emily,” says Olivia, looking into the distance and sighing. “I don’t know how, but we should shelter her from this when she’s older.”

I feel Olivia said it as a slip of the tongue, but it feels nice – the way she said ‘we.’

We drive for about an hour before finally arriving at the development. It's a sprawling 100 acres of beautiful Houston land near Lake Conroe, and as soon as I step out of the car, there is a sense of grandeur in the air - from the lush greenery to the site of the golf course.

As we walk around, I point out where the condominiums will be built, where the clubhouse will be situated, and where restaurants and other businesses will rise up and make this place their own.

"It's beautiful," she says, staring around her.

"Yes," I reply, noting the way the sun is casting a golden glow on the landscape. "But there's something wrong here."

"What is it?" she asks.

I gesture to the golf course, which appears to be in disrepair. "The greens are overgrown, and there are a lot of pots and patches that need attention. I want to figure out what's going on and make sure it doesn't ruin our plans for this development. So who do we talk to? Mr. Whitter, the man I purchased the land around here mentioned that there might something wrong with the golf course development plan. I don't know what he meant by it, but I assume it's the topography."

Olivia considers this for a moment before brightening up with an idea. "Why don't we talk to the head groundskeeper? He would know best about what's going on and have experience in fixing similar issues."

My heart leaps - she is so perceptive. She knows exactly how to approach these types of problems and always has great advice when I need it most. We exchange looks of understanding before heading off together to find the head groundskeeper, determined to get answers and put this problem behind us once and for all.

We stumbled upon the head groundskeeper at the back of the shed and immediately began bombarding him with questions. He appears bewildered as he informed us that the current proprietors of the land still own that piece, so it can’t be mended as per our orders. I gasp in shock; if this were true, then my claim to the land was void! The weight of this circumstance plummets on me like a boulder, yet Olivia steps in to take charge.

"Sir," she says, her voice steady and composed, "we require a full report on what needs to be done, an updated budget that won't leave us bankrupt, and a timeline for when you believe it will be finished." As she speaks, I can see his admiration for her rise.

He promises to deliver all we need in one week's time, and I thank him fervently before we leave. On our way back to my car, Olivia grabs my arm and gives it a gentle squeeze.

"It'll all work out fine," she reassures me gently. Her words seem to eradicate all my fears.

The next thing I know, she is on the phone.

"Yes, hello. I'm here with Mr. Adrian Carter. We have purchased most of the land, but there is something that we have become aware of that could disrupt our plans."

There is a pause as she listens to the person on the other line while we continued walking back to my car. A few moments later, her face falls, and she lets out a long deep sigh.

"I see," she says slowly. "So, you're saying that though we purchased most of the land for this project, there are still 10 to 15 small-land owners who own part of the golf course, and they are refusing to sell?"

She falls silent again before thanking the person on the other end for their time and hanging up. As soon as she does, I stop in my tracks, looking at her with wide eyes as I wait for an explanation. She turns to me and shakes her head sadly before speaking.

"It looks like our plans may be foiled; those small-land owners are refusing to sell their portions of the golf course land. They’re holding off, trying to bend your arm into buying at a higher rate."

"Oh Jesus," I groan, staring at the sky outside. "I can't believe I didn't know this."

"I'm sure the team is on it. They probably just don't want to trouble you with it."

"Well, they've troubled me enough by not telling me. This is absolutely ridiculous. It's my project. I need to know everything about it. It's my fucking dream," I say, banging the steering wheel slightly. "Even if a tree falls on that land, I need to know it."

To my surprise, Olivia simply picks up the phone and calls the development head on speaker. "Listen up," she says, ferociously, "Adrian Carter is a brilliant man. You have your job because of how fucking brilliant he is. A part of the land required for the development hasn't yet been acquired, and you guys have the fucking balls to hide this from him? The goddamn building plans have been made. Millions have been spent. You had one fucking job."

"We ..." the poor fellow stammers, "we weren't hiding it. We just thought we could shield ..."

"SHIELD?" shrieks Olivia, so loudly that even I get a little frightened. "Why the fuck would you need to shield the strongest man out there? In the future, if you're unable to do something according to the timeline, you tell him. If you're scared, you tell me. If you don't do either, trust me, I have enough power to fire you."

She cuts the call.

We sit in silence, momentarily stunned. And then, I start laughing.

"Oh my god," I say, shaking my head in disbelief. "You were like a lioness on that call. I feel scared for the poor guy. You're so ferocious."

Olivia smiles slightly and then looks away bashfully, blushing. "Well, someone has to look out for you," she says softly, still avoiding eye contact.

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