Chapter 16

Sixteen

Ethan

"Your favorite breakfast, Mr. Sterling," Morris announced as he set the tray on my desk, the scent of freshly brewed coffee and a perfectly toasted bagel wafting through the room. "Anything else you need before your meeting?"

"Thanks, Morris. This is great," I replied, forcing a smile as I glanced at the tray. The food looked good, but my stomach wasn't having it. "That'll be all for now."

Morris nodded and left the office, closing the door quietly behind him. I stared at the breakfast spread, the bagel still warm, and the coffee steaming. But I just wasn't hungry. My mind was too preoccupied, too filled with everything that had been piling up lately.

I pushed the tray aside, ignoring the growl of hunger that quickly faded under the weight of my anxiety. My phone was already in my hand, Natalie's name staring back at me from the screen. It had been days since I'd heard her voice, and the silence between us was suffocating.

"You've got to make the call," I muttered to myself, pacing the length of my office. But what could I possibly say that would make any of this better? How could I explain everything without sounding like an arrogant rich asshole?

I glanced out the window, the Dallas skyline stretching out before me like a sprawling reminder of the world I'd built—a world that felt like it was crumbling around me. The success I had once taken pride in now felt like a cage, each skyscraper a bar holding me in.

With a sigh, I loosened my tie and unbuttoned the top button of my shirt. The fabric had started to feel like it was choking me, like the responsibilities I couldn't escape.

I finally sat down, my eyes flicking between the untouched breakfast and my phone. "Just do it," I told myself again, and before I could second-guess it, I pressed the ‘Call' button.

The phone rang, each tone dragging out longer than the last. My heart thudded heavily in my chest, a dull ache that matched the uncertainty gnawing at my gut. When the call went to voicemail, I let out a long breath, both disappointed and relieved.

"Hi, Natalie, it's Ethan," I started, trying to keep my voice steady and casual. "Just wanted to let you know I'm coming back to Cedar Cove soon. I miss you, and I can't wait to see you again. Call me when you get a chance."

I ended the call and tossed the phone onto my desk. The silence that followed was more oppressive than the unanswered ringing phone had been. I sank back into my chair, rubbing my temples as the weight of the situation pressed down on me. The voicemail was too short, and I knew it wouldn't be enough to soothe Natalie's concerns. Hell, it wasn't even enough to soothe mine.

I leaned back, staring up at the ceiling as if it might offer some kind of answer. What was I even doing? Juggling two lives like this was tearing me apart, and I was terrified that I'd drop everything—lose everything, including Natalie.

The clock on the wall ticked incessantly, each second a reminder that time was slipping away. I glanced at it, realizing I was already running late for my next meeting. Another part of this double life I couldn't afford to neglect, even if it was the last thing I wanted to focus on right now.

But as I gathered my things, ready to leave the office, the nagging worry for Natalie lingered. What if she didn't call back? What if she was already slipping away from me, and I was too wrapped up in this mess to stop it?

"Damn it," I muttered, shoving the thought aside as I headed for the door. One thing at a time, I told myself. Get through today, and then I'd figure out how to fix the rest.

As the day wore on, I had barely made a dent in the mountain of paperwork that had piled up on my desk. Whenever I tried to focus on the numbers in front of me, my mind wandered back to Natalie and the voicemail I left her. It felt like I was trying to hold on to water. The more I tried to grip it, the more it slipped through my fingers.

I pushed my chair back, the leather creaking as I stood up and walked over to the window. Dallas spread out beneath me, a city full of energy and opportunity, but today it felt like a gilded cage. I had spent years building this life, achieving everything I thought I wanted, yet now it seemed to be the very thing keeping me from what I needed most.

My eyes drifted to the stack of papers on my desk—contracts, proposals, and one particular folder that seemed to glare at me from the edge. The Telluride deal. It was supposed to be a straightforward acquisition, a chance for our best client, Charles Whitmore, to diversify his portfolio with a prime ski resort property. But something in the back of my mind told me that nothing was going to be straightforward anymore.

As if on cue, my phone buzzed, cutting through the quiet of the office. I walked back to my desk, my gut tightening when I saw Whitmore's name on the caller ID. I picked up the phone, trying to steady my voice. "Charles, how's it going today?"

"Ethan, we've got a problem." Whitmore's voice was tense, frustration lacing each word. "The ski resort deal is off."

His words hit me like a punch to the gut. "What do you mean, off? We had everything lined up."

"Not anymore," he snapped. "Recent changes in environmental laws have put new restrictions on the land. Renovations—expansions—none of these are allowed now. The whole plan is dead in the water because you didn't foresee this issue."

I sank back into my chair, the weight of the news pressing down on me. "There's got to be a way around this," I said, trying to keep the desperation out of my voice. "We can't just walk away from this deal."

Whitmore let out a sharp breath. "Well, you need to figure it out, Ethan. I need you to fix this, or the deal's dead, and we both stand to lose a hell of a lot."

I rubbed my temples, feeling the pressure building behind my eyes. "I'll look into it," I promised. "I'll find a way to make this work."

"Good," Whitmore said, his tone softening just a fraction. "I'm counting on you."

The call ended, but the anxiety lingered, coiling tighter around my chest. I set the phone down, staring at the pile of papers on my desk without really seeing them. This was the last thing I needed right now—a business crisis that demanded all my attention while my personal life was already teetering on the edge.

I leaned forward, resting my elbows on the desk and burying my face in my hands. How had everything gotten so out of control? One minute, I was managing it all—balancing the demands of Sterling Solutions with the simple life I was trying to build with Natalie—and the next, it was all falling apart.

The real issue was, I never expected to fall in love. When I decided to take this so-called break from my life as a billionaire, I thought I could keep things simple, keep my two worlds apart. But then Natalie came into my life, and everything shifted.

I found myself wanting more than just a break from the high-stakes world I lived in. I wanted her in a way I hadn't expected, and it terrified me. I was afraid that if she knew the truth, this woman who was used to a simple life would reject me for the very things I was trying to escape.

Now, I was trapped in my own deception, with no clear way out. The business was pulling me in one direction while my heart was pulling me in another. And I had no idea how to make the two worlds meet.

The Telluride deal was critical, not just for Whitmore but also for Sterling Solutions' reputation. If I couldn't salvage it, the fallout would be significant—not just financially but professionally. Perhaps my lack of focus caused me to overlook the regulations I should have been aware of—I was sure Sophia would agree.

I shook my head and reached for my phone again, tempted to call Natalie. Instead, I sent a quick text, letting her know I'd be in touch as soon as I could. It wasn't much, but it was all I could offer.

Taking a deep breath, I forced myself to stand up, pushing aside the personal turmoil. There was no time to dwell on my feelings now—I had a job to do, and the stakes were too high to let anything distract me.

I grabbed the files related to the Telluride deal and headed down the corridor to the conference room where my legal team and Sophia were waiting. The walls of the room were lined with bookshelves filled with legal texts and binders, a sign of the countless deals we'd navigated over the years.

Sophia was already there, her eyes scanning the pages of a document. She looked up as I entered, her expression all business. "We've got a problem, Ethan. Colorado's new environmental regulations are stricter than we anticipated."

I nodded, taking a seat at the head of the table. "Whitmore's already on the edge. If we don't figure this out, the deal is dead."

Our head of legal, a sharp, no-nonsense woman named Linda, slid a thick binder toward me. "We've been reviewing the changes. The land in question is now protected under the revised Natural Preservation Act. That means no new development, no renovations, nothing that alters the current landscape. It's essentially a dead asset if you're looking to expand or modernize."

I flipped through the pages, my mind racing as I tried to think of a way around the issue. "What about grandfather clauses? Exceptions?"

"None that apply here," Linda replied, her tone grim. "The law is airtight. This isn't something we can easily maneuver around."

Sophia leaned forward, her gaze intense. "We need to think creatively. There's got to be some way to make this property valuable to Whitmore, even with the restrictions."

I rubbed my temples, feeling the weight of the situation. This wasn't just about saving the deal—it was about maintaining the reputation of Sterling Solutions. "What if we focus on the eco-tourism angle? Market the resort as a luxury escape that emphasizes untouched nature, sustainability, and minimal impact?"

Linda considered it for a moment, then nodded slowly. "It could work. We'd need to pitch it in a way that aligns with the current trend toward eco-conscious travel. It won't be the same as a full renovation, but it could appeal to a different type of clientele."

Sophia picked up on the idea. "We could also look into partnerships with conservation groups. Turn the resort into a model for sustainable tourism. It's not what Whitmore originally wanted, but it could still be profitable—and more importantly, legal."

I exhaled, feeling a small flicker of encouragement. It wasn't a perfect solution, but it was something. "Let's draft a proposal and see how Whitmore reacts. We need to move fast on this before he pulls out entirely."

The team nodded in agreement, and we quickly began drafting new strategies and reworking the pitch. The uneasiness in the room was palpable, but it was the kind of anxiety I thrived on—the pressure to find a solution, to make something work against the odds.

For the next few hours, we were buried in legal documents, marketing strategies, and financial projections. The focus shifted entirely to the task at hand, the outside world fading away as we delved deeper into the intricacies of the deal. By the time we wrapped up the meeting, we had a plan that might save the deal and keep Sterling Solutions at the top of the game.

As I walked out of the conference room, the sense of accomplishment was tinged with the lingering thought of the message I'd left for Natalie. The workday might be over, but the real challenges were just beginning.

Desperation started to creep in as I thought about Natalie's sweet smile, the way it could light up a room and ease the tension in my chest. I needed to see her, to know that things weren't completely falling apart between us. On a whim, I navigated to the preschool's website, searching for some connection to her and some sign of what was going on in her life.

That's when I noticed the announcement for the upcoming fundraiser, planned for next weekend. The event was something she had mentioned in passing, but seeing it now gave me an idea—a way to possibly bridge the growing distance between us.

But as much as I wanted to believe this could be my chance, doubts gnawed at me. Could showing up unannounced really fix things? Or would it only make matters worse?

I wasn't sure, but at this point, I knew I had to try. The thought of losing her was unbearable, and I was willing to do whatever it took to make things right—even if it meant taking a risk that might blow up in my face.