Chapter 2 - THE MAN WHO STAYED
“You really raised her?” Mara asked.
Grant looked toward the second-floor windows.
For the first time since she had met him, the billionaire businessman did not answer immediately.
“Mostly,” he said.
There was something in that one word Mara did not expect.
Not pride.
Not resentment.
Something closer to exhaustion.
“I was twenty-four,” he continued. “Lily was eleven. Our father had already decided family was inconvenient. Our mother was in treatment. There wasn’t exactly a committee of volunteers.”
Mara leaned against the stone garden wall.
“And you quit your job?”
“Temporary leave.”
“Lily said you never went back.”
Grant glanced at her.
“My temporary decisions have a consistency problem.”
That made her laugh.
His expression shifted again.
Mara was beginning to understand that Grant Holloway did smile.
He simply seemed suspicious of the experience.
From inside the estate, someone yelled her name.
“Mara!”
She closed her eyes.
“That tone means something expensive has happened.”
Grant followed her through the French doors.
Something expensive had happened.
Two crates of custom glass candle cylinders had arrived in the wrong size.
The linen company was missing six tables.
Lily’s wedding planner had developed food poisoning.
And Evan’s grandmother had decided the seating chart was a “hostile political statement.”
By nine thirty, Mara had become unofficial emergency coordinator.
She was on her third cup of coffee when her phone rang.
The screen showed MAYA—ACCOUNTANT.
Mara stepped into the pantry.
“Tell me something beautiful.”
Her accountant did not.
“Mara, did you get the certified letter?”
“What letter?”
“The building.”
Mara’s stomach tightened.
Her flower studio occupied the ground floor of a ninety-year-old brick building on Harbor Row in Providence.
Bennett & Bloom had been there since Mara was twenty-seven.
Before that, the space had belonged to her mother.
Before the flower coolers and consultation room, it had been an old marine supply shop with warped floors and windows that rattled every winter.
Mara loved every imperfect inch.
“What about the building?”
“It sold.”
Mara gripped the counter.
“To who?”
“A development company. They’re terminating commercial leases.”
“No.”
“Mara—”
“My lease has three years left.”
“There’s a redevelopment clause.”
“I negotiated that clause.”
“With the previous owner.”
Mara closed her eyes.
“When do they want me out?”
“Thirty days.”
For several seconds, the kitchen noise disappeared.
Thirty days.
She had twelve weddings booked over the next three months.
Three employees.
Thousands of dollars in refrigeration equipment.
A walk-in cooler that could not simply be stuffed into someone’s minivan.
“Mara?”
“I’m here.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Send me everything.”
She ended the call.
When she opened her eyes, Grant was standing in the pantry doorway.
Of course he was.
“Eavesdropping is an interesting billionaire hobby.”
“I came looking for coffee.”
“The coffee is innocent.”
He studied her face.
“What happened?”
“Nothing.”
“That expression is not nothing.”
“You’ve known me for three hours.”
“And you looked less concerned when you almost destroyed imported peonies.”
Mara moved past him.
“I have a wedding to finish.”
Grant caught the pantry door before it closed.
“I can help.”
“No.”
“You don’t even know what I’m offering.”
“Neither do you.”
His jaw tightened slightly.
Mara regretted snapping at him.
But panic made kindness difficult.
The rest of the morning became controlled chaos.
At eleven, the coastal wind strengthened unexpectedly.
At eleven ten, one side of the ceremony arch shifted.
Mara saw it happen from fifty feet away.
“Oh, absolutely not.”
She ran.
Grant reached it first.
The eight-foot structure leaned toward a row of antique chairs.
He grabbed one side while Mara caught the other.
“Hold it!” she shouted.
“I gathered that.”
“This is not the time for sarcasm.”
“Then you chose the wrong assistant.”
Together they stabilized the frame until two workers arrived with additional anchors.
Mara stood back afterward, breathing hard.
Grant had dirt on his expensive trousers.
“You ruined your pants.”
“I’ll recover.”
“You know most men with two billion dollars wouldn’t personally hold up a flower arch.”
“Most men with two billion dollars are probably smarter than I am.”
She looked at him.
“You really don’t act like Lily described you.”
“That worries me.”
“She said you were terrifying.”
“There we go.”
Mara smiled despite herself.
Then her phone buzzed again.
An email.
She opened the attachment.
OFFICIAL NOTICE OF COMMERCIAL LEASE TERMINATION.
She scrolled until she reached the purchaser information.
Her breathing stopped.
HOLLOWAY COASTAL REDEVELOPMENT LLC.
Mara looked up slowly.
Grant was still standing beside the arch.
“Holloway.”
“Yes?”
She walked toward him.
“Is this yours?”
She held up the phone.
He read the document.
His expression changed instantly.
Not guilt.
Confusion.
Then recognition.
“Holloway Coastal is a subsidiary.”
“So yes.”
“Mara—”
“You bought my building.”
“I didn’t personally buy anything.”
“You own the company that did.”
His eyes moved across the document.
“Harbor Row redevelopment.”
“You know it.”
“I know the project.”
“Apparently better than I do.”
Mara crossed her arms.
“Thirty days.”
Grant looked at her.
“What?”
“That’s how long your company gave me to remove eleven years of my life.”
“I didn’t approve thirty-day removals.”
“Well, someone with your logo did.”
Grant read more carefully.
“This isn’t how the project was structured.”
“I'm sure that will comfort my employees.”
His voice lowered.
“Existing tenants were supposed to receive eighteen months, relocation assistance, and first-right return after construction.”
Mara stared at him.
“My letter says thirty days and no relocation compensation.”
Grant became very still.
“Send this to me.”
“No.”
“Mara.”
“I am not asking the bride’s billionaire brother to rescue my flower shop.”
“This isn’t rescue. If my company violated its own agreement—”
“I’ll handle it.”
“And if somebody in my company is doing something they weren’t authorized to do?”
She paused.
That was different.
Grant held out his phone.
“Send me the letter.”
Mara hesitated.
Then forwarded it.
He read for thirty seconds.
His expression grew colder with every line.
Finally, he called someone.
“Reid.”
Mara started to walk away.
Grant’s next words stopped her.
“I’m looking at a termination notice for Bennett & Bloom on Harbor Row.”
Silence.
“No. I did not authorize accelerated vacancy.”
Another pause.
“I don’t care what legal says.”
Grant turned away from the wedding preparations, voice sharpening.
“The board approved a preservation plan. Existing businesses stay through phase one.”
He listened.
Then something in his face changed.
“What do you mean I signed it?”
Mara looked back.
Grant slowly lowered his voice.
“When?”
He listened again.
“Send me the document.”
He ended the call.
Mara waited.
“Well?”
Grant’s phone buzzed.
An attachment arrived.
He opened it.
His face drained of color.
“What?”
He showed her the page.
At the bottom was a digital signature.
GRANT HOLLOWAY, CHIEF EXECUTIVE OFFICER.
Mara felt her stomach sink.
“You signed it.”
“No.”
“Your name is right there.”
“I understand what my name looks like.”
“Then what are you saying?”
Grant stared at the timestamp.
The authorization had been approved six days earlier.
At 2:14 in the morning.
He shook his head.
“I was in Zurich six days ago.”
“That doesn’t mean you couldn’t sign electronically.”
“I was presenting to regulators at 8:00 a.m. local time. I remember that night.”
“Maybe you forgot.”
“I don’t forget documents that displace forty-three businesses.”
Mara looked at him.
“Forty-three?”
He nodded.
“Harbor Row is bigger than your building.”
She had known redevelopment was coming.
She had not known dozens of businesses were facing the same deadline.
Grant called again.
This time his voice had changed completely.
“Pull every Harbor Row approval from the last ninety days.”
A pause.
“No. Don’t send it through Reid’s office.”
Another pause.
“Send it directly to me.”
He ended the call.
Mara watched him.
“This isn’t just my lease, is it?”
“No.”
“What do you think happened?”
Grant looked toward the ocean.
“I think someone used my authorization.”
“To do what?”
“To force tenants out before the board knows what happened.”
“Why?”
“Money.”
He gave a humorless smile.
“It’s usually money.”
Mara crossed her arms.
“And Reid?”
“Reid Mercer is my chief operating officer.”
“Do you trust him?”
Grant did not answer.
That was answer enough.
Before Mara could ask another question, Lily appeared through the French doors wearing silk pajamas and carrying a plate of toast.
“There you are!”
She pointed at Grant.
“You promised me forty-eight hours without corporate murder.”
Grant slipped his phone into his pocket.
“Technical problem.”
“Tomorrow is my wedding.”
“I noticed.”
Lily turned to Mara.
“Has he annoyed you yet?”
Mara looked at Grant.
“Working on it.”
Lily smiled brightly.
“Excellent. He likes you.”
Grant nearly choked.
“Lily.”
“What?”
“You're thirty years old.”
“And?”
“Act like it.”
“I am. Thirty-year-old women recognize chemistry.”
Mara’s face went hot.
Grant stared at his sister.
Then his phone rang.
He looked at the screen.
Whatever name appeared there erased every trace of embarrassment.
“I need to take this.”
He walked toward the house.
Mara looked at Lily.
“What?”
Lily was watching her brother.
“That was Reid.”
“How do you know?”
“Grant has three faces. Business problem. Family problem. Someone is about to regret something.”
“And that?”
Lily took a bite of toast.
“Definitely number three.”
Ten minutes later, Grant returned.
He looked furious.
“The authorization wasn’t only used for Harbor Row.”
Mara’s pulse quickened.
“What else?”
“Seven redevelopment projects.”
“How many businesses?”
“Two hundred and twelve.”
Mara stared at him.
Grant looked toward Holloway Point, where preparations for his sister’s wedding covered the lawn in flowers, linen, and white chairs.
Tomorrow, hundreds of people would arrive expecting champagne and happiness.
But Grant’s company might already be facing fraud on a scale large enough to destroy it.
Then he said quietly, “And whoever did this knew I’d be distracted by Lily’s wedding.”
For the first time that morning, Mara forgot about attraction.
Because Grant Holloway suddenly did not look like a billionaire.
May you like
He looked like a man who had just discovered someone inside his own house had been waiting for him to look away.
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