Chapter fourteen
Antonia
The haze of morning creeps into the site office, catching on the dust hanging in the air. Sean, our site manager, paces the narrow room again, boots heavy against the plywood floor. He’s furious. His jaw tight, phone clutched in his hand as if he might crush it.
I’m furious too.
The difference is I don’t pace. I fix.
“They can’t just pull out,” Sean mutters. “Not with groundworks scheduled next week.”
“They can,” I reply evenly, scanning the email again. “They did.”
Our primary contractor has withdrawn. Timeline concerns, they say. The new opening schedule isn’t practical, even though they assured me it was. They sat in this office and agreed it was possible. I wouldn’t have signed it off otherwise.
Now, they don’t believe we can hit summer without cutting corners. And they don’t want their name attached if we fail. Typical ass-covering behavior.
Outside, an engine whines in protest. Ben’s sports car announces itself before he even appears. The tires spin uselessly in the mud, a whirring complaint echoing across the site.
Despite everything, I almost smile.
Every time he arrives in that thing, I expect we’ll have to tow it free with the excavator. It’s impractical. Slightly arrogant. Entirely unsuited to where we are.
And yet he keeps driving it. And I keep watching.
Sean stops pacing when the engine cuts.
“He’s not going to like this,” Sean says.
Neither do I.
But liking something has never determined whether it gets done.
Ben appears, and the floorboard squeaks, his posture instantly tightening when he sees me. I’m never here this early. Usually, I go to Opengate first, but I’m spending more and more time here. It’s like an addiction.
“What’s wrong?” he says to me rather than the man in charge.
Sean steps in front, breaking our eye contact. Ben moves around him.
“We’ve lost the main contractor,” I tell him.
“Lost?”
“They’ve withdrawn. Effective immediately.”
“Why didn’t you call me?” He strides over to stand beside me. The heat from him pushes me a step back.
“I’ve already spoken to two alternative firms,” I say, choosing to ignore his question. I should have called him, but I wanted it sorted before he arrived. Fight the fire before it could spread. It just so happened that Sean was already here, double-checking plans.
“They’re coming on site today to discuss.”
Ben leans in slightly, and I have to tilt my head back to meet his eye. Neither of us looks away. Everything warms another degree.
“You should have told me, Antonia. This is a joint project. Both our reputations are on the line.”
My phone rings. Another contractor confirming a later appointment. When I disconnect the call, Sean excuses himself to deal with ‘minor works that can still be done’. He excels at running away from the tension and justifying his job in one sentence. Ben hasn’t moved a millimeter.
“What conversation was had with the primary contractor?” he prods.