Chapter 97 The P.I
The drive to the office should have been mundane. Routine. I had hoped that once the estate disappeared in the rearview mirror, my mind would snap back to the usual priorities of contracts, numbers, meetings, deadlines. The usual chessboard of strategy where everything had a place.
Instead, my thoughts kept looping back to Hannah.
Her lips. The way she had leaned into me without hesitation, as though consequences were a foreign concept. My chest tightened at the memory, and I had to take a deep breath, loosening my grip on the wheel.
Focus.
The city was awake and loud around me with cars honking in the usual symphony of morning traffic, delivery trucks lumbering past, pedestrians juggling coffees and phones. Normally, that clamor would ground me, tether me back to the present. Today, it barely scratched the surface.
By the time I pulled into the underground parking of the office, I forced myself into work mode. Hannah could occupy a box in my mind for now. For now, work was everything.
Inside the lobby, the familiar hum of corporate life swallowed me. Footsteps, elevator dings, the low murmur of conversations about numbers and schedules. Predictable. Routine. Safe.
I stepped into the elevator and let the doors close behind me, riding the familiar ascent to my floor.
Elaine, my secretary, was already behind her desk when I arrived.
“Good morning, Mr. Blackwood,” she greeted.
“Morning,” I replied, making my way to her.
She handed me a tablet. “Your schedule’s packed today. The board call’s been pushed to eleven, and the legal team wants a pre-lunch briefing.”
I scanned the itinerary. Meeting. Conference call. Another meeting. Lunch with investors. Strategy session. Perfect. Days like this left no room for distractions. No room for complications.
“Anything pressing?” I asked.
Elaine nodded. “Three contracts waiting for your review, and Mr. Calder called earlier.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Did he say why?”
“No.”
Of course he hadn’t.
“Send me the files,” I instructed. She nodded and returned to her desk without another word.
I stepped into my office and shut the door behind me. The familiar layout was a comfort from the floor-to-ceiling windows, a minimalist desk scattered with neat stacks of documents, the muted hum of the city below. I settled into my chair, flipping open the first file.
For the next hour, numbers and clauses consumed me. Contracts were clear. Agreements were logical. There were rules. Tangible outcomes. No emotions. No chaos. Just facts.
By the time I stepped out for my first meeting, my mind had mostly recalibrated.
The day unfolded like clockwork, from meeting after meeting, negotiations, projections, strategy discussions. Hours slipped by. At some point, I realized I hadn’t thought about anything outside the office for hours. Exactly as I liked it.
Finally, five hours later, I walked out of a conference room with one of the senior partners.
“If we can finalize the contract before Friday, the deal will close next week,” he said.
“That’s the plan,” I replied, slowing near the elevator.
That’s when I saw Calder. Standing near the hallway window, his expression unreadable. Waiting.
I raised a finger, signaling him to hold. He nodded once.
Turning back to my partner, I said, “Send me the final revisions tonight. I’ll review them.”
“Of course.”
The partner walked away, and I shifted my attention back to Calder.
“Timmy.”
Rowan’s voice cut through the air casually, almost too easily. My gaze snapped toward him. He strolled toward us, hands in pockets, calm as ever.
“Don’t call me that, you fucking prick.” I said without any heat. “Where have you been?” I asked immediately.
He raised an eyebrow. “Well, good afternoon to you too. Courtesy is dead, after all.”
“You missed the morning briefing,” I said, not amused in the slightest.
He shrugged. “Yeah. Something came up.”
“You didn’t tell me beforehand,” I pressed.
“I didn’t think I needed to,” he said lightly.
“You took the day off.”
“I did. So?”
“You didn’t submit a formal request. Elaine had to tell me.”
Rowan’s expression flickered with mild amusement. “I didn’t know a single day required paperwork.”
“That’s not what I meant,” I said.
He waved me off with a faint smile. “Relax. Not a problem.”
His tone was easy, but something in his posture, so slightly stiff told me he was still on edge.
Rowan’s gaze drifted past me. Calder. He slowed as he registered him, as if measuring the distance.
“Calder. Long time no see,” Rowan said casually, voice smooth.
Calder’s face didn’t change. Neutral. Flat. Not a flicker of warmth. Not a hint of animosity. That’s one of the things I liked about Calder. You couldn’t tell what he was thinking for shit.
I glanced between them, noting the tension that lingered in that strange, silent acknowledgment.
“Calder and I need to talk,” I said, my voice low.
Rowan tilted his head. “Right.”
I gestured toward the elevators. “We’ll talk on the way.”
Calder nodded and followed me. Rowan lingered for a heartbeat before trailing behind.
Outside, the car was waiting. Calder slid into the back seat first. Rowan stayed by the side, watching as if making sure nothing untoward happened.
“You okay?” I asked quietly.
Rowan’s eyes met mine. “Why’s Calder here?”
“Business,” I said smoothly. “Just going over something. Nothing you need to worry about.”
He studied me a moment longer, suspicion lingering, before relaxing slightly.
“Better safe than sorry,” I added.
Rowan finally nodded, though his eyes stayed sharp.
“You sure you’re okay?” I asked again.
He smiled, easy and practiced. “Yeah. I’m fine.”
I clapped him lightly on the shoulder. “Alright. Good.”
Sliding into the car, I closed the door behind me. The driver pulled away from the curb, and through the tinted window, I watched Rowan remain on the sidewalk, still observing Calder as we disappeared from view.
Then I turned to Calder.
My expression hardened.
“Alright,” I said quietly.
“Let’s hear it.”