Millie
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My mum was a nuisance.
As I drove down the familiar street toward my childhood home, my heart pounded with anxiety. My mind raced with troubling thoughts about mum. Was she safe? Was she sick? A million questions, all unanswered. When I reached the front door, I realized I had forgotten my key. I had rushed out of my apartment unprepared because my mother wasn't picking up my calls, which was unusual for her even when she was at work. I was blessed with a parent who was always there in my life — always filling up my space with her presence, and honestly, I couldn't have gone through everything that I did without her support. I reminded myself that even though she could sometimes annoy me or bother me, she had always been there for me, and I wouldn't be where I was today without her help. Therefore, I made it a point to be there for her whenever she needed me.
As I stood in front of the locked door, I recalled that mum was particularly protective of her privacy, so I wasn't confident that she would have kept an extra key. However, I decided to check under the plant and was surprised to find a key hidden there. I used it to unlock the door and pushed it open with force, causing it to almost slam against the wall. The living room was dimly lit, and my eyes quickly scanned the area.
"Mum!" I called out, my voice betraying the desperation I felt inside. There was no response. Despite not having visited my home frequently, everything appeared to be exactly the same. It was as if time had stood still in my home, with the wallpaper and furniture retaining the same shades and styles as before.
I called out for my mum once again, placing my bag on the couch before making my way to the living room. I found the room to be empty. I quickly checked upstairs and then rushed to the kitchen, my footsteps echoing through the quiet house. "Mum!" I called out, my voice rising with urgency, but there was no response. As I approached the backyard, the fragrance of fresh flowers filled my senses, and I felt a sense of warmth and comfort envelop me.
When I pushed open the back door, my eyes frantically searched the garden for any sign of her. I finally spotted her bent over a bed of roses, carefully pruning away dead branches and leaves. Her dark hair was tied up in a messy bun, and her sleeves were rolled up to her elbows, revealing her strong and weathered arms. Seeing her amidst the blooming flowers brought back memories of her sitting cross-legged on the ground with her back to me, wearing a hat to block the sun from her eyes. The sight of her, healthy and happy, lifted the weight off my chest and brought immense relief.
I approached. "Mama, did you not hear me calling you?"
As soon as my mother heard my footsteps and voice, she turned around, and her eyes lit up with joy. "Millie!" she exclaimed, a broad smile spreading across her face. "I'm sorry, honey. I must have lost track of time while tending to my plants." She stood up and embraced me, enveloping me in a warm and comforting hug. The familiar scent of her perfume made me feel at ease.
I sighed. "I called you so many times, but you weren't picking up. Being alone in the house, I was worried you had collapsed or something."
She laughed and patted my arm. "You worry too much, darling, but it's good that you're here. I was about to call you to give you a surprise."
My brows drew together. "Surprise?" I groaned. "Mum, I swear if it's another blind date, you'll be the one going in my place."
I noticed her glancing toward the house, and her expression changed from joy to excitement. Curious, I followed her gaze and spotted a figure approaching us — it was my dad! I was shocked and couldn't react at first. I hadn't seen my father in months, and my heart leaped with excitement at the sight of him.
"Dad? Is that really you?"
He walked up to us with a wide grin on his face, his eyes lighting up as he saw me. He swept me up into a tight hug, squeezing me as I laughed.
"I can't believe it's you," I whispered, pulling back to look at him. "When did you get back? Why didn't you let me know?" I turned to mum and gave her a questioning look. "You knew he was coming back, didn't you? You couldn't even tell me?"
"And miss seeing the look on your face?"
Dad brushed my hair out of my face. "It's good to see you, honey." He planted a kiss on my cheek. "I was the one who told your mother not to call you."
"Is that why she didn't pick up her phone when I called? So I could come back home?"
He wrapped his arm around my neck as we made our way back into the house. "No, I believe your mother was just lost in her world. The plan was to invite you for dinner and surprise you there."
I chuckled. "Typical of mama to ruin plans." I wrapped my arm around his waist. "Wait, dad, have you lost weight?" I peeled myself off him to inspect him. "Have you been taking care of yourself?"
"Don't worry about me, Millie. I'm doing great," he said as he took a seat in the chair. Mum sat on the armrest, with her arm around his neck. "I'm just trying to stay in shape," he added, leaning over to affectionately peck her arm.
"Oh, yeah?" My brows rose. "Is the tour over?"
"Got a few more shows left. Leaving in two days."
I sat down on the chair facing him and let out a sigh. "Dad, I supported you when you said you were going on tour five months ago because I know the band wanted it, and so did you. I understand that someday you won't be able to get on stage and play the guitar, and that's why mama and I were not against you leaving home for months. But now, I think you should take a few weeks off before you join the band for any more shows."
He laughed, waving off my worry. "You worry too much. I'm fine. A band can't do without their guitarist and one of their lead singers."
"Really? Is that why you're limping?" I demanded whilst he tried to avoid my face as if he got caught. He did get caught. "You think I wouldn't notice?" He glanced at mum. "He's in pain, mama."
Mum rushed to look at him, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Jamal, is that true?"
"I can't believe you didn't notice."
She leaned down and tried to pick up his right leg, but he jumped back, avoiding her. "Come on, Helen, there's nothing wrong with me." He sighed before finally relenting. "Okay, I stumbled on my leg on stage. That's it. The doctor checked me and said it'll be fine in a week."
"Are you sure? Because if I call Patrick right now and he says something else, you're not going back on the tour."
I shot her a look of disbelief. "Mum!"
She sighed. "Your dad can be stubborn, Millie. If we force him to quit the tour, I'm afraid he will find a way to sneak out and finish it anyway. Besides, it's only three more shows. After that, he'll be back home for a long time, won't you, Jamal?" She pointed a warning finger in his direction.
"Yes," he chuckled. "Ray already said it'd be a little while before we go back on tour again and you know our manager never lies. I'm fine." He looked back at me. "Nothing an ice pack won't help."
"Speaking of shows, think you could get me two tickets for your next show? I met one of your biggest fans."
"Really?" he asked with a wide grin. "That's wonderful to hear. I'd have Ray email you the VIP tickets."
"Thanks, dad," I said, imagining Roman's reaction when I tell him I got him a VIP ticket to the band's show.
Smiling, he added, "Lunch?"
I nodded.
The soft glow of the sun shone through the kitchen window, casting warm shadows across the countertop. The scent of freshly brewed coffee wafted through the air, mingling with the aroma of mum's chicken salad and penne with avocado. The table was set, and we all sat down. My parents sat across from me, their faces wreathed in smiles. It was amazing to see how their love had lasted for forty years, and nothing had changed.
I closed my eyes and savored each mouthful, feeling the deliciousness of the meal wash over me like a wave. Maybe it was because I was hungry, or maybe it was the joy of being reunited with dad, or maybe it was simply the fact that it had been months since the three of us had sat down together and enjoyed a meal as a family.
"How's work?" he asked.
"It's great."
"Your nasty boss still around?"
I laughed. "Yeah, Gavin is still around. Still terrible as ever."
Dad nodded, swallowing down his food before saying, "You know, honey, if you need a new change of job, your old man has some pretty good connections he can use."
"Thanks, but I like working at Harley. I won't let anyone run me away."
"That's my girl." He grinned. "So, how's your romantic life? Seeing anyone?"
I groaned.
Mum took that opportunity to comment. "See? That's what she does every time I ask if she's seeing anyone," she huffed.
"Mama, you're always suggesting going on blind dates and you wonder why I don't like talking about my personal life with you?"
"Well, if you don't talk to me, who do you have?"
"I'd have you know that I do, in fact, have other people I talk to." People like Roman and Isaac, and even Shane, but I won't tell her that. She'd only try and pester me about them, and maybe I just wanted to keep my new friends to myself before she's inviting them over to have dinner with us.
"Really?" she eagerly asked. "Is it a guy? Are you seeing him?"
I groaned again. "You know keeping out of your daughter's personal life creates a healthy relationship between a mother and her daughter?"
"Oh, please you just made that up."
"Yeah, like half of the stories behind dad's songs."
Dad sighed, smiling big. "Well, it's really lovely to be home. I've missed you, girls."
"I'm so glad you're home. Mum used to talk about you a lot. Maybe now you can take her out on a date or something to take her mind off my dating life," I suggested with a grin, noticing the eye-roll from the woman in front of me.
"I'm not trying to be overbearing, Millie. I just want you to have a good future. You're in a stage where you have to think about settling down. Don't you want to get married, have kids, and see your grandkids? I know I do."
"Mum, life is not just about meeting expectations. I tried it your way, but it didn't work out. Now, I want to try something different. I'm not going to have expectations and end up being disappointed."
"No one is rushing you, honey," dad interjected. "Do whatever you want. Live life on your terms. Your mother won't bring this up again, will you?" He looked at her, waiting for an answer.
She grumbled, "Fine, but just so you know, I'm not trying to be the bad guy here."
"I know, mama," I said, trying to reassure her. "I appreciate your concern, but I want to do it at my own pace."
"Millie, we understand," he added, patting my hand. "I hope you remember that we love you no matter what you choose. We will support you no matter where life takes you."
"Okay. Can we have a peaceful lunch now? Dad deserves that, at least. I know the tour life was not kind to him."
"Tell me about it," he groaned. "While we were in Chicago—" And then he went on and on about the things that happened on tour, stories he knew I would love, and for a long time since I have sat there, I haven't lost my smile.
Roman
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"Dad talked to you," I said as I leaned back in my executive chair, pushing away from my desk and swiveling towards the floor-to-ceiling windows with a stunning view of New York. One of my favorite things about my new office was the breathtaking view. I loved standing in front of the windows, pretending that I could see everything from my floor. Although my office was situated high up, all I could see were the towering buildings. Yet, I tried to imagine hearing the bustling sounds of the city, smelling the aroma of coffee and baked goods, and sensing the scents of colognes and perfumes. I imagined seeing every person walking down the street of New York.
"I called to check up on my brother," the voice from the phone, which was turned on the speaker, dismissed with a laugh.
I snorted, still facing the view. "I think you're bullshitting me right now. You called to check up on me because dad spoke to you like he always does."
My brother, Blake, sighed into the phone. "I'd also like to think I'm checking up on you, Roman. Yes, dad talked, but I would have called if he hadn't. How are you holding up so far?"
"He's the one with the eyes, so he'd tell you what I've been up to. Why? You already regretting relocating?"
"Not really, but I miss it there. And I also know you need to be there more than me. I know you've wanted to get as far away from dad as possible, and to find what you're looking for."
"I appreciate it."
"But as your brother, I need to tell you to get your shit together so I don't have to listen to dad complain that I spoil you too much. I probably do, and that's why you're there and I'm here. Don't make me regret it. Focus on the company. You have a responsibility now."
"I know." I sighed. "It really opened my eyes when I started working here. At least, back home, dad did most of the work. It's hard to live up to your name. I must be disappointing you."
"You're not, or at least you're trying to. Just remember that the company can't function without you, and without the company, you're risking the lives of those who work for you."
"I know, I know," I rushed out to say. "I'm getting my shit together so my employees can't say you're better than me."
Blake laughed. "You know damn well I am."
"Not for too long," I retorted. "Anyway, remember the project we talked about with Dad?"
"Which one? There have been a lot,"
"Sailgate. The project that every major construction company is after?"
"Oh, the government project? What about it?"
"I have a meeting with Ed Friedman today," I said.
He gasped. "Really? You managed to get a meeting?"
I nodded. "You have no idea how many favors I called in for this, but I finally got it. Hopefully, if I convince him to give us the project, we'll not only have a thirty percent increase in profit, but we could also have a long-term partnership with the government, and I don't mean just in construction. We could have an advantage in other major aspects."
"Roman, holy shit. If we get this, we won't have to worry about anything for the next five years," he exclaimed. "Damn, you better charm the hell out of Friedman. I know you, and I know you have the shittiest, most persuasive mouth ever, so use it and get us that project. You won't ever have to worry about dad again. Hell, you can quit, and he'll feed and clothe you for the rest of your life."
I chuckled. "Blake, I'm not doing this to get him off my back. I'm doing it for the company." I heard someone talking to him — probably his PA, Angela, who used to be my PA before the switch.
"Okay, Roman. I have to go deal with a lawsuit now — don't ask, it's stupid. You just focus on Friedman. Call me when you're done. Good luck," he said, then the call went dead. Just in time for Hope to knock on my door before walking in.
"Hi, I came in to give you these." She closed the door behind her, holding a file in her hand.
"Thanks," I said, taking the file from her. "Take a sit. Is this everything?"
"Yes, we got all the reports about our previous projects. The safety team were able to come up with plans that I think Friedman would appreciate and solutions to all the necessary concerns are stated. All in there."
"Great. Thanks." I smiled as I closed the file, looking up at her. "Let's hope the meeting goes well." I pushed back my chair and stood up, grabbing my jacket and swinging it around my shoulders to wear it. "Have you called his assistant and confirmed the meeting?"
She stood up. "Yes. She's been really helpful with moving up the meeting. You get to talk to him first before the other companies beat you."
I chuckled, "Setting up a meeting is easy, but convincing someone is not. Men like Friedman thrive on ego and power. It's all about who gives more and who benefits more." I grabbed my phone and keys from the table. "That's just how it is."
Hope frowned. "That doesn't seem fair."
I smiled, "Life isn't fair." I headed for the door and reached for the handle, "Oh, and one last thing. Can you arrange a meeting with the research team?"
"Sure, when?"
"Thursday, and make sure everyone's there."
She noted it down quickly, "Got it. Good luck with the meeting, Mr. Harley."
I thanked her and left the office, leaving the door open for her.
I sat in the dimly-lit restaurant, my eyes glued to the door. I checked my watch for the umpteenth time, wondering if Friedman would even show up. He was ten minutes late. The air around me was thick with the soft hum of chatter from nearby tables.
As I waited, my mind began to wander, conjuring up all sorts of scenarios of how the meeting could go. Would I be able to win him over with my charm and wit? Or would I lose my temper and ruin the opportunity of a lifetime? That's the problem with dealing with government officials. They often feel entitled because of their position, and it's frustrating to have to wait on them. But I knew I needed to keep my cool and stay professional if I wanted to make this work. After all, Harley Enterprises had a reputation to uphold.
I reminded myself that patience was key, even though it was never my strong suit. It was not the first time someone voiced their concern after the switch. It was partly my fault for making them feel less confident after the takeover. I had to show Friedman that I was willing to work with him, but I also had to assert my own power and make it clear that I wouldn't tolerate being kept waiting. Blake may have been patient, but I was different. I was a man of action, and I wasn't afraid to take charge.
A woman walked up to my table and sat down without a word. She was half-Asian with a heart-shaped face and long, dark, silky hair. Her piercing gaze bore into me like a hawk stalking its prey. Her presence disrupted the calmness of my thoughts like a gust of wind on a still summer day. I couldn't help but notice how her eyes sparkled like diamonds, and how her lips curved into a mischievous smile. Maybe in the past, we would have gone home together and had an amazing time, but for now, I was mildly annoyed. This wasn't the first time a woman invaded my space because she was interested, but this was the worst time.
She twirled her hair around her fingers and I found myself sighing. This wasn't the time or place for distractions. I waited until I regulated my breath before speaking. "Excuse me, can I help you? This seat is already taken."
She was on her phone, tapping at it with her long, red-painted nails. Her eyes screened over her phone as if she were tapping something she didn't want to touch. "I know," she replied, her voice sweet and velvety. Before, I would have found it alluring, but now, I just wanted her to leave.
My eyebrows furrowed. "Then why are you still sitting here? There are plenty of available tables, ma'am." I gestured toward the empty tables around us.
She locked eyes with me, her eyes wild and bold. "Do you always sound like that?" She tilted her head, studying me with curiosity.
"Like what?" I asked, unsure of what she was getting at.
"Polite," she sneered.
I blinked in surprise. "Is there a problem with my politeness?" I asked, genuinely confused by her reaction.
"No, it's just uncomfortable," she replied dismissively, turning her attention back to her phone.
"You're uncomfortable because I'm polite?" I repeated incredulously. "That's a first."
She lowered her phone. "No, I'm uncomfortable because your voice sounds sweeter than I anticipated," she said with a hint of disgust. "You make me think about all the calories I don't want to eat."
I raised an eyebrow, trying to process her words. "Calories you don't want to eat?"
She rolled her eyes. "Yeah, you know, the empty calories that taste good but do nothing for you. Like sugar."
Fuck. She was really taking asshole to a whole new level. I didn't have time for this. Friedman could walk in any moment now, and I needed to get rid of this woman. Politely. No matter what she says. I mean, this was the first time I was getting called out for being polite.
"Ma'am, that seat you're sitting on is taken," I tried again, hoping she would listen this time. "I'm having an important meeting. If you could just—"
"Are you not hungry?" she interrupted, sweeping her gaze around the table. "You haven't ordered. You don't have any drink in front of you besides the water. Do you not drink?"
I could feel the atmosphere shifting, dipping in dark smoke. "I chose not to order anything before my date arrives," I said through gritted teeth, trying to remain calm despite her provocation. "And even if I were hungry, that still doesn't give you the right to invade my space and sit at my table without permission."
The first hint of a smile appeared on her face, and damn if her dimples didn't make her look more beautiful. The old me might have leaped at any chance to hit on her, but I was a man with a purpose, and I had no interest in playing games.
"Date?" she offered with a little smile. Fuck that obnoxious smile that somehow knew something I didn't.
"No, not in that context," I replied, trying to keep my tone level. I didn't want to get drawn into whatever game she was playing.
"Surely there's no other meaning?" she pressed, her smile widening.
I let out a frustrated sigh. "Look, can you please excuse yourself from my table? I've been asking you politely—"
She cut me off again. "You're a rude man."
I felt a flash of anger rising in my chest. "Rude? You're the one who sat at my table and refused to leave," I retorted, my tone sharp. I couldn't tell if she was messing with me, or if she was just incredibly oblivious. Either way, I had had enough.
She cleared her throat, straightening her spine. "Yeah, you're definitely rude."
I counted from one to ten, trying to calm down, and told myself it wasn't a good idea for me to get mad. I plastered a smile that hurt to keep on. "Well, ma'am, I apologize if I seem rude to you—"
"Don't call me that. You make me sound old and I'm not old. Do I look old?" she said the entire sentence like it had been rehearsed a thousand times over.
This was like what, the third time she cut me off, and she called me rude? I inhaled a deep breath and quickly corrected myself, "I apologize, I didn't mean to offend you. I didn't think calling someone 'ma'am' was disrespectful."
She huffed, "Well, it is. It's like you're treating me like I'm some kind of old lady."
"No, you look like your age."
"And how's that a compliment?"
"I'm sorry—"
She looked up again, still dismissive. "No wonder there's no ring on your finger."
"Maybe it's a choice."
She looked back up, intrigued. "Is it?" When I didn't answer, she smiled again. "You're getting annoyed, aren't you?"
No shit. "Has anyone told you that you drive people insane?"
It made her smile. "More than I can count, but I'm built like concrete. Negative comments don't affect me. Rude men too."
"You know what?" I pushed the chair back and stood up. "Just have the table. I can switch to another." I turned around to leave, but she stopped me in my tracks.
"If you walk away now, then I'll tell my dad not to consider your company for the project."
Her words froze me. I looked back at her. "Excuse me?"
She smiled, stretching out a hand for me to shake. "Ellie Friedman, nice to meet you."
What the fuck? "I'm supposed to meet your father," I said, unsure of why she was introducing herself.
"Consider me my father," she replied with a smile.
"You're not your father."
Ellie crossed her arms over her chest and leaned back against the seat, staring up at me. "You know, Roman, so far all you've done since I sat here was insult me and be rude."
I wasn't interested or had the patience anymore. "Why isn't your father here?" I demanded, pissed off that he would send his daughter.
She took her sweet time inhaling and exhaling, just watching me with her sharp gaze and razor-teethed smile. After a few seconds that seemed longer, she said, "The question is, what can I do to help you?"
"You work for your father?"
"Let's just say, I'm the one standing between you and the project everyone wants, but why, out of all the people desperately calling my father, did I pick you?"
What? I blinked. "I thought—"
"You thought my father's assistant moved up the meeting?"
"It was you?"
Ellie nodded. "So once again, Roman, how can you make me convince my father that you're the right choice for the project?"
"Fine." I sat back down. "I think your father will be very interested in this." I pushed the file toward her.
She eyed it skeptically. "What's that?"
"Everything you need to know. My team has highlighted all of our past projects. Although we have never worked on a government project before, I understand that these projects often have strict timelines and budget requirements. However, we can deliver within these parameters."
She tilted her head. "But you have no experience in building bridges or roads. Why should we trust you?"
"I understand your concern, Ms. Friedman, but my company has experience in similar projects-"
"Building a bridge is dangerous work. It's not like your past projects. Your company has a spectacular record, Mr. Harley, but this is a government project and the most sensitive one. Safety is a significant consideration and the disruption it can cause to traffic and other activities in the area. How would you handle that?"
"I understand your concerns," I said, nodding. "We take safety and the impact on the community very seriously. Our team includes experienced engineers who specialize in building large-scale infrastructure projects. We will work closely with local officials and stakeholders to ensure minimal disruption to traffic and other activities in the area. Additionally, we will implement rigorous safety measures to ensure the well-being of all workers and the community at large." My hand touched the file on the table. "You can find everything detailed on this file."
"I think you're going to have to do a lot more than give me a file," she said. I opened my mouth to retort, but she beat me to it. "Well, this has been eventful, Roman." She picked up her phone and her bag, standing up from her chair.
"You're leaving?" What the fuck?
"I'm on a tight schedule," she said, pulling out a sleek black phone from her purse and placing it on the table. "I'll contact you on this phone."
"I have a phone."
"I'm aware," she said coolly. "But I don't give out my personal number to just anyone. Use this phone for now. Answer my calls promptly, Roman, and you'll get what you want. Goodbye." With that, she grabbed her bag and strode out of the room, leaving me stunned and staring at the phone in front of me.