The squeezing grew more frenetic, the squeal of the hinge the only sound in the room. “You actually think I’m going to humble myself so she can have...”
Susan planted a fist on his desk and leaned closer until they were practically nose-to-nose. “Be very careful what you say next, Jordan. This is a multi-million dollar deal. The firm could use this sale, as well as any future sales that come because of it. Another building will come along for your little venture. But a deal with the Delgado Foundation comes along once in a lifetime. Now, you can either take on this property and I’ll transfer the Hudson Yards condos to Michaela, or you can find another place to work and Michaela will get all your listings. Your choice.”
He dropped the packet of property information onto his desk and tossed the staple remover atop the manila folder. A deep exhale escaped his pursed lips.
Apparently, Susan took the sound as a victory for her. With a smug grin, she turned on her chunky heels and strode away, only pausing long enough to toss over her shoulder, “Try flowers. Most women love roses. If things between you two are as bad as you say, I’d suggest hundreds of them.”
He glared at her retreating back, visually flinging imaginary knives between her shoulder blades. Ha-ha.
Once she’d left his office, he scrubbed his hands over his face. Why? He’d been back in New York for two years now and had managed to avoid everything connected to his past here. Since his return, he hadn’t visited any of the old haunts: the restaurants, parks, stores, or even the stadium they’d once hung out at together. He’d built a whole new life with a new job, new friends, and new plans. He didn’t want to see Cam again—not yet. Not until he’d changed his world so much that he no longer remembered how she used to make him feel, and how, in the end, it had all been a lie.
A few deep breathing exercises cooled his rising temper, and he tried to look at the situation with a clearer head. Six figures would be a nice addition to his bottom line. Marcus would be pissed, but if he explained that in the long run, they’d be able to look for another site and have more money to spend on equipment, or a bigger place, or just a fatter cushion to help them get through the lean years until the business took off—which they both knew would happen—maybe this could work to their benefit. There weren’t many physical therapies in New York that could accommodate all kinds of disabilities for athletes and professionals. Theirs would. So okay, they’d probably lose the Loughlin property. In the long run, though, they might be better off.
Plus, there was a delicious irony in using Cameron Delgado’s money to fund a future that wouldn’t include her. And maybe...
He turned to his keyboard and typed in the Delgado Foundation’s website. Maybe he could handle this sale without ever having anything to do with Cam. After all, as the president, she probably didn’t have many dealings with the day-to-day operations. He clicked on “Meet Our Board of Directors” and began his search there. Who among these unfamiliar names would most likely be involved in the acquisition of their new site? Treasurer?
Well, why not start with the money guy? If Martin K. Jacobs wasn’t actually handling the deal, he could probably direct Jordan to the right contact. Cam would never have to know.
Picking up his receiver, he dialed the number and waited for someone to answer. When the receptionist went into her spiel, he let her finish then asked to speak to Mr. Jacobs.
“Whom may I say is calling?”
“I’m Jordan Fawcett with HRR Commercial Realtors. We have a property coming up for sale I think might be perfect for the foundation’s new site here in New York and I’d like to give the foundation first look.”
“Mr. Jacobs isn’t in charge of that transaction. Hold on please, and I’ll transfer you to Ms. Delgado.”
“No, wait—”
Too late. He was placed on hold while his call was sent directly to the one person he dreaded talking to. Dammit! Now, what? He didn’t dare hang up. For one thing, Susan would have his desk cleaned out before he could utter a word of explanation. For another, the possibility Cam would find out and think he’d chickened out dented his already-too-battered pride where she was concerned. He’d needed her once before and she’d turned her back. He couldn’t let her turn her back on him again. This time, he’d make her face him.
Another deep breath. Okay, fine. He’d handle this acquisition the way he would any other: with efficiency and professionalism. This was a business deal, not a marriage proposal. Simply because she’d rejected the latter didn’t mean history would repeat itself on the former.
The piped-in music changed to a single jangle, and a sunny voice answered, “Ms. Delgado’s office, this is Val.”
Val. He remembered her—slightly. Petite, blond, an eager go-getter Cam had hired about six months before their breakup. Nice to see she still retained some loyalty for her staff.
“Good morning, Val,” he greeted with false enthusiasm. “My name is Jordan Fawcett. I’m with HRR Corporate Realty. I’d like to speak to Ms. Delgado regarding a property we have available we think may be a perfect fit for the foundation’s current and future needs.”
“Great pitch. Nice touch, adding in the future bit,” the woman replied, a smile evident in her tone. “Unfortunately, Ms. Delgado is unavailable for the next several days. However, I’m compiling an inventory of possible sites for her review. Why don’t you tell me what you’ve got? If it meets our requirements, I’ll be happy to add your property to the list.”
It couldn’t be that easy. His spine tingled. “What happens after that? I mean,
