6
Harrison
“Hope the construction outside didn’t give you too much trouble. They’ve been working on that intersection forever. I’m Zack.”
“Harrison.”
The kid who heads up the zoning department for this part of LA shakes my hand. He’s probably thirty, clean-cut, smells like ambition and family money. I don’t need to look inside his head to know for him this is a stop on the way to something bigger.
Mayor. Governor. Maybe senator.
“I understand you’re looking to develop a property in Burbank.”
“It should’ve been zoned commercial. Everything around it is. I trust it will be straightforward after the hearing to approve the request so we can move forward with construction.”
“Unfortunately, our hearing process has been delayed. We need to move yours back six weeks.”
Unacceptable.
The delay will put me behind Mischa’s expansion and cost me money. Every damn day this building sits empty costs money.
“This is a priority. I have significant stakes riding on finishing this on time.”
He jams his hands in his pockets, eyes crinkling at the corners.
It’s not a smile—it’s a warning.
“I don’t know how fast things move in the UK, but there can be hang-ups in California and the planning office has limited resources. We advise developers to anticipate sufficient time for approvals.”
Fucker.
He’s one of those types. The ones who hear I’m coming and want to make my life hell.
“If it’s resources you’re short, I’m sure we can expedite things.”
“Just because you have money doesn’t make it fast.”
The rest of the meeting goes about the same, and by the time I leave, I’m in a bad mood. I slam a fist into the brick outside before heading to my car.
This new venue is my best investment to grow my company until I can clear my parents’ names and convince Christian to sell me La Mer.
The entire drive back to my penthouse condo in one of LA’s best hotels, I’m clenching the steering wheel.
I toss the keys to the valet and head up to my condo.
I bought the suite three years ago. Its stunning skyline and modern décor are lost on me as I toss my tie on a chair and strip down, heading for the shower.
The water makes my agitation worse.
Is it possible I was off my game?
More than once today, I’ve caught myself thinking of Raegan’s mouth.
How I’d like to taste her everywhere else.
Whom she’s going to dinner with.
When I get out and towel off, there’s a buzzing in the back of my brain I can’t ignore. I grab my phone and check Beck’s social media.