Yes, Masters (Book 2 of Desire's Den)

Chapter 8 - Callan

For once, I woke the next day feeling a smidge more rested, and I knew it was all thanks to my grandma. She always knew how to help me with a few comforting words.

After I had ended my conversation with her, I called Gideon, and we set a time for when we would all meet. Since we agreed to meet at his place, I talked him into making us dinner, which he never would have said yes to if this had been before Emma.

Previously, he rarely made us anything at all, but lately, that had changed, and thank God for that because I'd never eaten anything as good as the meals he was cooking. Even Zaveri fell short, and he was the owner of a two stars Michelin restaurant. If it hadn't been for Gideon's unsocial tendencies, I would've said he'd missed his calling as a chef.

I went through my usual routine as I killed time: gym, food, and work. It helped to keep busy, especially to stamp out the urge I had to pick up the phone and text Emma. I was constantly wondering how she was doing. Was she doing good? Was she sad? Did she need us? The last thought always undid me.

It wasn't only Gideon that had changed, it seemed. I usually wasn't the emotional type or someone who obsessed over a girl. But the thing was, Emma wasn't just a girl; she was more than that, as I'd attested to my grandma.

By the time I picked Mateo up and drove to Gideon's, my body was sore, and I was starting to develop a mean headache.

"Changed your mind yet about giving her space?" Mateo asked from the passenger seat. 

"I'm not sure where I stand. This time around, I am the passive one." If we fucked it up this time, it wouldn't be on my conscious. It was rare for me to take a step back and let others handle it, but sometimes it was necessary for my peace of mind.

"No worries, man. We'll just hear Gideon's thoughts and decide from there."

As we exited the city, I changed gears and pushed down harder on the gas pedal while Mateo fiddled with the AUX to put on some music. His idea of good music was rock and roll, which wasn't my taste, but I let him go at it.

"How's Wright Enterprises going? Made any decisions about what you want to do with it when you start?" I asked, curious about the company Mateo would take over as CEO after he finished his last semester as a professor at NYU.

He shrugged. "Good or bad, I really don't care. I'm doing this for my sister, so the company will still stand when she's ready to take the reins. She has already signed up for a few classes, and I'll be helping her with the rest. But yeah, I do have some ideas. Mainly, I want to do a complete overhaul of the employment. Knowing my father, he's given the high-paying jobs to undeserving, racist old farts. I want them gone and give the positions to those who will do well. I also want to research and see if the people working there are treated fairly."

"It seems you've been thinking a lot about it," I remarked.

"Yeah, I mean, I'm stuck with the position for the foreseeing future. The least I can do is change things for the better."

"If you ever need help, don't hesitate to ask. Changing from being a professor to the big boss will be an adjustment."

"Thanks, man, I appreciate it, and I'll probably take you up on the offer at some point."

The drive to Gideon's place took about forty-five minutes and a further four minutes to drive to his house from his gate. He had a ridiculously massive manor with an outrageous amount of land.

The main house was from the eighteen century. It looked beautiful enough on the outside; a gorgeous limestone-bricked building with huge windows and two pillars supporting a canopy by the entrance. But the inside was creepy. It had too many empty rooms, which echoed with each step you took. I had no idea how Gideon could stand living here-not that I should speak, with an apartment that lacked any impression that anyone lived there. Hell, I hadn't even put up any mementos; all the decorations were picked out by a personal interior decorator.