Page 70 of The October Arrangement

I couldn’t help but laugh as my fingers typed a message back.

I hate you.

No, you don’t. Remember, a lot of crust.

Go run your company and leave me alone.

You texted me first. Go make my pie.

I smiled and set my phone down. Raine jumped on one of the stools and meowed at me. I reached over and petted her.

“Your daddy has some nerve, Raine.”

Chapter Twenty-Six

Simon

I was halfway through reviewing the revised construction schedule for our Brooklyn project when my office door opened, and my father walked in. He never bothered to knock first, which bothered me.

“You busy?” he asked.

“I’m always busy.”

He walked over to the couch and tossed a file folder on the coffee table. Immediately, I knew something was wrong.

“Tribeca,” he said.

I stood from my chair and walked over to him.

“What now?” I asked.

“We sold one unit this month.”

“One?” My brows furrowed. “That can’t be right.”

“It is,” he said, walking over to the bar and pouring himself a drink.

I picked up the file and opened it. Montclair Tribeca was one of our newest luxury residential developments, with 78 residences ranging from two-bedroom units to four-bedroom penthouses, complete with floor-to-ceiling windows, private terraces in select units, a rooftop pool, a fitness center, a private dining room for parties, and a 24-hour concierge. We’d spared no expense with this project. And neither had the few buyers who’d already purchased.

“Where are we sitting at?” I asked my father.

“Twenty-six units sold and two under contract,” he replied.

“So we still have fifty units to sell,” I said.

“Fifty-two if those contracts don’t close.”

“Jesus,” I sighed. That was exactly what I didn’t want to hear.

I sat in the chair across from the couch and flipped through the sales report.

“How’s the traffic?” I asked.

“Down.”

“How far?” My brows furrowed.

“Almost thirty percent since we launched it.”