“Wouldn’t you be a better candidate?” I don’t do site visits. In my six months as chief desk jockey, I haven’t been to a single construction site. It’s part of my plan to lay low. If I’m not in charge of anything I can’t fuck it up. Not to mention I’d have no idea what to do once I got there. “We both know how much you’d enjoy nailing his ass to the wall.”
“More than you can imagine, but my schedule is full. Since Gary was fired, the next inspector in line handles their shit-show. Our other inspectors are busy, and frankly, I don’t want to wait another second. So, you get a raise. Congratulations. This project is a nightmare.”
Did he say raise? My ears perk. Despite wanting to lay low, an increase in my income would be nice. Given that I refuse to touch my brother’s and my nest egg, I have to keep the lights on at home somehow.
“If Owen isn’t there when you get there, let the site manager know you mean business.”
Nathaniel Owen has a reputation for completing projects on time, which is a rare and coveted quality in a builder. He also sidesteps rules and does things his way rather than follow the letter of the law. The city of Clear Ridge doesn’t take kindly to rule-benders, and Daniel hates them. Look at that, my boss and I have something in common.
“No problem,” I assure Daniel.
Maybe delivering justice will be cathartic. I can’t go back in time and keep my father in line, or recoup the money of the people who trusted him, but I can prevent Nathaniel Owen from lining his pockets with even more money. The Owen name is stamped on nearly every new build within a thousand miles. How much more can the guy possibly need?
That’s the thing about greed. It knows no bounds.
“I have a meeting in five minutes and they’ll probably keep me for the afternoon.” Daniel swipes his sweaty brow. He’s a good seventy pounds overweight and even on his tall frame, it’s too much girth. “Can I count on you not to fuck this up?”
I force a smile. His wasn’t the most wholehearted vote of confidence, but I’ll take it. “Of course.”
“He’s cocky, strong-willed and needs a knot tied in his tail,” Daniel says, not quite finished with his tirade. “You’re strong. Smart. The perfect candidate to take him on, Viv.” His voice gentles, and I feel an odd catch in my chest at the compliment.
The last man who praised me was my father. When I learned I couldn’t trust him at the end, I wondered if every ounce of praise he gave me before was a lie. There are two versions of him in my head. The man who encouraged me to believe in myself and never give up, and the man who told me those things while stealing money from innocent people.
Disgusting.
“Shut him down,” my boss repeats. “Let’s teach him a lesson.”
I draw my chin up at those words. Owen needs taught that you can’t do what you want and give the rules the finger.
“Grab a hardhat from the back. Don’t want you busting that pretty noggin of yours and then suing me.”
Aaaand…moment over.
“Sure thing,” I reply blithely.
I grab a hardhat from the back and walk outside to my 2014 Hyundai the car salesman assured me was “reliable.” I don’t even miss the sleek black Audi RS I used to own. Okay, I do a little. But a car is a car. This gem will deliver me to Grand Marin just as well as that Audi.
Grand Marin is a soon-to-be massive live-work community. An open-air style shopping, dining, and retail area interspersed with offices for professionals as well as apartments for young, vibrant tenants who want to live in the middle of—or above—the action.
Live-works have been growing in popularity, and whenever there’s a trend, I’ve noticed the Owen family has their mitts all over it. I’ve never had any personal dealings with Owen, but I know rich people. They’re not that great.
As a former rich person, I speak from experience.
I also know that Gary, the city’s former mild-mannered inspector, came into the office with his bottom lip dragging the ground each and every time he had to deal with this site. Gary was a softie, and we all liked him. He was rocking a five-foot-three frame and had a shy way of watching his shoes when he talked. Then he blows up at Daniel? I wouldn’t have guessed he’d raised his voice a day in his life before today.
People can surprise you, though, and for me that should come as no surprise.
Gary’s despondence, and the possibility that he took a bribe, proves what a bulldog this Owen guy can be.
Bring it on, buddy. I’ve already been through the wringer.
Daniel’s grumping about the mayor isn’t totally inaccurate. Rumor has it the Owens grease palms. Mayor Dick Dolans might well be their pet.
I come to a stop the moment I merge onto the highway. So much for taking a shortcut. I-70 is a parking lot, and the heat index on the car’s thermometer reads 97° F.
Worse, I’m wearing a synthetic-but-made-to-look-like-real-silk shirt and it’s sticking to me like a second skin. Waves of heat waft off the road as if the cars are in the process of being melted down into one big metal glob. The month of June is going out like it has a score to settle.
Again: relate.
I crank the A/C down and rest a hand on the steering wheel. I refuse to panic. I’ll get to Grand Marin when I get there. I wish I would have dug up some much-needed intel about the site before Daniel rushed me out of there. I know next to nothing about it.
At least I’m wearing my nicest, most slimming pencil skirt and high heels. Not the best getup for tromping around a construction site, but it’s a good look when wanting to bust some billionaire balls. I smile to myself, straightening my shoulders.
I’m out for a win for the good guys. A win for justice. I picture myself as Wonder Woman and lift my chin. If she did it in a bustier and panties, I can do it in a pencil skirt and knockoff silk.
Ready or not, Nathaniel Owen, here I come.
Chapter Two
Vivian
The Grand Marin site is further along than I imagined.
The brick buildings are standing, windows and doors installed—manufacturers’ stickers on most of them. Dirt roads in every direction cut through the buildings and around them. When paved, those roads will lead through an open-air shopping center with a small-town feel.
Perfect for the city of Clear Ridge.
Huge construction equipment and trucks stand sentinel, none of them in operation at the moment.
I climb from the car, wilted from the A/C and sun beating the windshield during my drive. I was stuck in traffic for forty-eight minutes, and when I was moving again completed the twenty-minute trek to Grand Marin.
Bright side, the traffic jam gave me an opportunity to call Amber for an assist. She did a thorough digging and found out many exceptions were made for this property. It’s been humming along even with Owen’s special requests. That they didn’t gum up the system boggles the mind.
One of the city ordinances requires high wattage on streetlights, but Nathaniel Owen requested lower in order to preserve stargazing. Another ordinance requires sod, and Owen quibbled about that too, insisting forest flooring is better. Yet another states in this area of Ohio, the buildings must adhere to a specific style guide, but Owen insisted on using his own.