“Emil,” I whisper his name to keep my tone even.
I’ve seen him from time-to-time when our paths cross on the sidewalk or in a restaurant, but a part of me always feels a stab of sadness when I run into him.
He looks just as he did the last time I saw him. That was at least five months ago, maybe more. His black hair is the same length, his green eyes as sharp as always.
The seriousness that surrounds him fades when he smiles because the man could light the darkest sky when joy grabs hold of him.
“Who is he?” Emil keeps his eyes pinned to me. “You’re seeing someone?”
“Barrett Adler.” My boss steps beside me, snaking a hand past my shoulder toward Emil. “I work with Isabella.”
“You go by Isabella now?” Emil questions with a draw of his brows together. “It’s so formal. It’s so not you.”
He doesn’t know me. I thought he did, but how can a man know a woman if he doesn’t understand her soul? Emil’s sights were set much higher than mine when he graduated from NYU two years before I did.
“I’m Emil Burdeon.” He shakes Barrett’s hand. “Is Bella still working as an assistant at Garent?”
There it is; the innocent question with the unmistakable undertone of my value hidden within the words.
“Always be better than someone else’s best. Aim higher, Bella. There’s no triumph in being second to anyone.”
Emil thought he was helpful when he said those things to me over and over, but they cut into my self-esteem until I had to cut myself free of him.
My grandma taught me that my value couldn’t be measured in the size of my paycheck or my job title, but in what I do for others that won’t earn me a dollar.
“You’re one of those Burdeon kids, aren’t you?” Barrett sizes Emil up from head-to-toe. “Your dad owns the Burdeon vineyards. Is that right?”
It’s Emil’s claim to fame. He runs the family business. It was his calling from the start. His degree in business only cemented his place in the legacy founded by his great-grandfather.
He convinced himself that he beat out his brothers and older sister to take the reins when his father was looking for a CEO to lighten his load. Emil always felt he earned it by hard work and determination, but no one else wanted the responsibility. They all had their own dreams to chase.
Emil’s face beams almost as brightly as his diamond cufflinks. “That’s right.”
“My father owns Adler Estates.” Barrett scratches his chin. “He’s running circles around you at the moment.”
Adler Estates? Barrett’s
father owns the company that produces some of the best wine in the country?
“I wouldn’t say that.” Emil glances down the crowded sidewalk. “We’re focused on development at the moment. Expect our spring offering to trump yours.”
“Not mine.” Barrett laughs off the comment with a shake of his head. “I don’t work for my old man. I carved my own path. You should try it sometime.”
“Sir?” A woman sticks her head out of the window of the food truck. “Your order is up.”
Emil grabs the offering, not bothering to thank the woman. “I need to take off. I’m heading to California later tonight.”
“Safe travels,” I quip as I approach the window.
“Cheers, Emil,” Barrett says from behind me. “It’s been a slice getting to know you.”
***
“I need you to arrange a meeting for me with the owners of the party supply store tomorrow. Damn, if I can remember the name of that place.”
I look up into the face of my boss. “Party Hearty.”
“Hate it,” he quips. “What the fuck was Duke thinking when he dropped a load of cash into that?”