Page 64 of Negotiation Tactics

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Page 64 of Negotiation Tactics

24

Josh

Myfourthattempttocontact Alistair yields the same result. It’s that irritating voice message saying the person you are trying to call either has their phone turned off, doesn’t have service, or has ceased using the number. I think it’s time to give up, because, clearly, I’m not getting through no matter what I try.

I adjust the strap of my backpack as the elevator reaches my floor. Maybe I can ask Lily, but she’s off today and calling her just to ask about Alistair seems a little silly… so I guess I will ask her at the party tomorrow.

A cacophony of cheers and screams welcomes me as I get off on my floor. The entire open space of the office is crowded by all the union reps that work in this old brick building we call HQ. I’m not a fan of being in the spotlight—kind of like mom, I suppose—but their joy is infectious, and I join in, grinning and high-fiving whoever I can get to. As promised, Mariam’s cake is there, and it’s already half-gone when I finally get my hands on a slice.

Once I’ve been congratulated enough, I meander into the kitchen to grab a coffee and make my way to my office. Taking a sip of the bitter goodness, I drop into my creaky chair with a sigh. The high spirits have me buzzing, but now that I’m alone, they are starting to wear off. With them slowly draining off me, my mood begins shifting too.

I still can’t believe Alistair did this. I have no explanation, nothing to latch onto, and the fact that I’ve not been able to get hold of him so we can talk is irritating me more than it should. Ugh, I’m so confused right now! Last night, I was still high on the win, but now that some time has passed and I’ve been able to somewhat rationalize his actions, it’s all so blurry in my head. Alistair was an ass to me that day. All he cared about was making daddy happy, so he used me, then shut me down, cut me out and rolled out the pay cuts.

But then he went and decided to have a fucking redemption arc. We haven’t talked since that day… Oh fuck, he did try to call me when I was on a date with Peterson! I couldn’t possibly pick up then though, I was too angry still, too hurt. But maybe I should have. Maybe if we talked, I wouldn’t be wondering how this happened. The man who was afraid to confront or disappoint his father has clearly grown up, but I have no idea why or if I helped him get there.

I sigh, grunting. Why does it even matter to me? I want to move on, I’m done with him. Or that’s what I thought, what I wanted to believe, but the truth is, Alistair Devon is a hard man to forget. And now that he might not be the evil asshole I spent a month convincing myself that he was?

I am so royally screwed.

My joke of a resolve to hate him completely shatters, replaced by the need to know which part of him was real. Did he lie to me like I thought, or was it all because he didn’t believe in himself? Because he was just afraid to stand up to his dad? I want to confront him, to ask him all those questions swirling in my mind. To see him… and maybe to kiss him, depending on what his explanation is. But with no way to contact him after two more tries, I decide to focus on work instead, since it’s the most effective way of distracting myself.

I’m so good at it that I end up locking up the office at nine p.m. and completing all the outstanding case reports from the last few weeks.

Fortunately, it’s Jaz and Steve video call night, so when I get home, I don’t get to be alone with my thoughts until three in the morning. Both of them were stoked to hear about the Devon Holidays development and we might have spent some time brainstorming the possible causes for it. I thought it would help, but it only made it worse, because now I want to talk to Alistair even more.

So I call him again as I slip under the covers. But just like the previous times, the call doesn’t go through, leaving me frowning and wondering as I drift off to sleep if I’ll ever get the chance to clear things up with him.

“There he is!” Simon and a very pregnant Izzy shout in unison the moment I enter the pizza place Mariam booked for our celebration.

It’s a cozy restaurant near the hospice, so mom is with us, too. She hugs me first and then the rest follow, congratulating and thanking me. There are so many of them, both union reps and Devon employees. They hand me a bouquet and a cute silver bracelet, the gesture making my heart swell with joy.

Since Mariam booked the entire venue, aside from pizza goodness, we have a few games planned as well. The highlight will be a tiered cake that I pretend I don’t know about.

Despite the fun and the smiles and laughter, a pang of dissatisfaction lives in my chest. It’s Alistair’s fault. I tried calling him in the morning again, but still hit the same roadblock.

Is he ignoring me? Did he block me? Is he dead in a ditch somewhere? Is this him telling me ‘fuck you’ after rubbing it in my face that he isn’t the rich asshole I accused him of being? If so, I have to give it to him, he’s doing a hell of a good job, as irritating as it is. In the span of two days, my hate for him has evaporated, replaced by curiosity and confusion. I have no reason to hold a grudge or accuse him of screwing me over, because even if it took him some time, he delivered on his promise and some.

Does that make me the asshole? I’d say we both had our asshole moments, so we are even. This was far from a smooth ride—it was a damn dirt road full of potholes—but I made it, with his help. The sexy, bossy billionaire deserves the opportunity to explain himself, and who knows, maybe if I like what he says I’d be willing to give him a second chance too, because, clearly, getting over him is a nearly impossible task. Ahem, but everything in its due time—there’s no point getting ahead of myself when he might not want anything to do with me anymore.

“Hey.” Just as my mom shouts ‘Bingo!’ and jogs over the bar to claim a prize, Lily slides into the seat next to me. She’s late. The party started about an hour ago, and she was meant to host the Bingo, but fortunately, Mariam was happy to step in. I was playing the game too, but kind of lost track of the numbers, so my slip lies crumpled next to my glass.

“Oh, hi. You finally decided to show up.”

“Sorry, something came up last minute…”

Her tone is off, but I decide to let it slide. More importantly, do I ask after Alistair or not? If anyone knew what’s up with him and why he’s not picking up, it would be her. I contemplated calling Brady Sanders, but that’s way too embarrassing, and it would make me seem desperate. Which I am not. I’m just curious and willing to give Alistair the chance to tell me his side of the story. That’s all. If we end up fucking like monks after a year of abstaining, that’s completely out of my hands.

Squinting at my half-empty glass, I pull it closer and wrap my fingers around it. “So, I’ve been trying to contact Alistair, but I can’t get hold of him… Do you know if he changed his number?”

“Ah, that explains everything.” She grins sheepishly, her eyes sparkling with amusement, and hands me an envelope. “Brady asked me to give you this. It’s for your eyes only as per his instructions.”

I snort. “What’s this? And what does it have to do with Alistair?”

Lily fingers the ribbon decoration around the small vase with tulips. We didn’t go all out like we did with my mom’s anniversary party, but Mariam arranged for some flowers and a few garlands to give the pizza place’s interior a more celebratory feel.

“I heard he dropped his phone in the river and couldn’t get a replacement sim card or they messed it up when transferring it or something. So he had to get a new number.”

My jaw drops. “You’re kidding me.”