My Riley

Chapter Five-Vincent

Friday was tomorrow.

Vincent Stanley sat behind his desk, staring at the reports in front of him without actually reading them.

His attention had been caught on the same thought for the last several minutes.

Riley Rosewood.

More specifically—

Riley’s designs.

Vincent checked the time on his watch.

He had given Riley until Friday to present his first concepts.

Not the finished design.

Not the entire headquarters.

Just the beginning.

A few sketches.

A few concepts.

Something that would allow Vincent to understand where Riley intended to take the project.

Vincent expected something tomorrow.

At least one design.

Maybe two.

He had no idea what Riley would send.

And strangely enough, that was exactly what Vincent wanted.

Because he had deliberately made sure Riley was working with information the other designers had never received.

The decision to move Stanley Corporation’s headquarters had been kept extremely quiet.

Only a small number of people knew.

The board knew.

A few senior executives knew.

His legal and financial teams knew.

The people directly involved in the construction knew.

But the designers who had previously approached Stanley Corporation?

They knew nothing.

Vincent had made sure of that.

Because if they had known about the new headquarters, they would have prepared for it.

They would have created elaborate presentations.

They would have designed imaginary offices based on what they thought Stanley Corporation wanted.

They would have filled their portfolios with polished concepts.

Beautiful photographs.

Expensive materials.

Perfectly staged corporate spaces.

And by the time they walked into his office, Vincent would already be looking at something that had been designed around assumptions.

He didn’t want that.

He wanted to see how someone thought when they weren’t given the answer first.

So he had waited.

He selected the person.

Then he gave that person the building.

A blank canvas.

No furniture.

No decorations.

No existing design to work around.

Nothing that would influence the creative direction.

He wanted the person he hired to walk into the space mentally and decide what it should become.

The headquarters needed to represent Stanley Corporation.

But not in the obvious way.

Vincent didn’t want a building that screamed wealth.

He didn’t need marble everywhere.

He didn’t need enormous chandeliers.

He didn’t need furniture that looked expensive simply because it had a ridiculous price tag.

He wanted sophistication.

Structure.

Function.

And something else that mattered to him more than most people realized.

The environment.

Sustainability.

Natural light.

Energy efficiency.

Green spaces.

Materials that were responsibly sourced where possible.

A building that could feel modern without looking like it had been designed to impress people who cared about money.

The headquarters needed to work.

For the employees.

For executives.

For clients.

For the future.

That was why Vincent had been so selective.

And Riley’s portfolio had caught his attention.

There had been something different about it.

Riley didn’t simply decorate rooms.

He understood them.

There was a difference.

Vincent had noticed it immediately.

Riley understood how people moved through spaces.

How lighting affected concentration.

How furniture affected communication.

How an empty room could feel welcoming or uncomfortable depending on how it was arranged.

And when Riley had walked into Vincent’s office and calmly told him that the room looked expensive but controlled—

Vincent had remembered it.

Most people wouldn’t have said that.

Most people would have complimented the office.

They would have told him how impressive it was.

Riley hadn’t.

He had simply told the truth.

Vincent respected that.

He leaned back in his chair.

His eyes returned to the reports.

There were acquisitions to review.

Contracts waiting for approval.

A meeting with investors next week.

Another issue with one of the international branches.

A board member who was asking too many questions about expansion.

And three separate departments that needed his attention.

Business never stopped.

It had never stopped.

Not since he was twenty-two.

Sometimes Vincent wondered if he even remembered what life had been like before responsibility became permanent.

His father had died.

The company had nearly collapsed.

His relatives had seen weakness.

They had wanted shares.

Assets.

Control.

They had expected a twenty-two-year-old to panic.

He hadn’t.

He had simply learned faster.

Worked harder.

And refused to give them what they wanted.

Now, ten years later, Stanley Corporation was larger than his father had ever imagined it could become.

Yet Vincent still carried the same pressure.

Maybe that was why he hated uncertainty.

He preferred knowing.

Numbers.

Contracts.

Deadlines.

Facts.

Things he could control.

Riley Rosewood was not one of those things.

Vincent glanced at the email on his computer.

First concepts due Friday.

He wondered what Riley would send.

Then he dismissed the thought.

He had work to do.

By the time Vincent finally left the office, the sky was already dark.

His driver took him home.

Not to an apartment.

Not to a penthouse.

Home.

The Stanley family home.

Vincent still lived there.

At thirty-two.

It wasn’t something he discussed with people outside the family.

He could afford practically anything.

He could have bought a house anywhere.

He could have built something enormous and private.

But his mother had always worried about him living alone.

Especially after his father died.

At first, Vincent had resisted.

Then he had realized that arguing with his mother was more exhausting than staying.

So he had made peace with it.

And, if he was honest, there were moments when coming home wasn’t as unpleasant as he pretended.

His mother was already at the dining table when he entered.

His younger brother was there too.

Vincent loosened his tie as he walked in.

“You’re late,” his mother said.

“I had work.”

“You always have work.”

Vincent pulled out his chair.

“I know.”

His brother looked at him.

“Did you eat anything today?”

Vincent looked at him.

“Coffee.”

His mother immediately frowned.

“Vincent.”

“I had lunch.”

“What did you eat?”

Vincent paused.

His brother laughed.

“See?”

Vincent sighed.

“Food.”

His mother shook her head.

“One day you’re going to understand that coffee isn’t a meal.”

“I understand.”

“You clearly don’t.”

Vincent almost smiled.

Dinner continued quietly for a few minutes.

Then his mother looked at him.

“So…”

Vincent glanced up.

“Did you speak with Riley?”

His fork stopped halfway to his plate.

His mother smiled.

“How was it?”

Vincent swallowed.

“It was fine.”

“Fine?”

His brother looked amused.

“That’s all you’re going to say?”

Vincent ignored him.

“His portfolio was extensive.”

His mother nodded.

“I remember he was always interested in design.”

Vincent continued eating.

“His work was good.”

His mother smiled.

“Good?”

Vincent looked at her.

“Very good.”

That seemed to satisfy her.

“He had some brilliant ideas.”

Vincent leaned back slightly.

“We’re trying to work with him.”

His mother raised an eyebrow.

“Trying?”

“I’ve already given him the contract.”

Her expression brightened.

“Really?”

“He’s only left to sign it.”

“And the project?”

“When he brings his first designs, sketches, and ideas, we’ll finalize everything.”

His mother smiled.

“That’s wonderful.”

Vincent nodded.

“He’ll bring them tomorrow.”

His mother looked pleased.

“It’s been so long since I’ve seen Riley.”

Vincent didn’t respond immediately.

His mother continued.

“I see his mother occasionally, but Riley…”

She shook her head.

“It’s been years.”

Vincent thought about Monday.

The moment Riley had walked into his office.

The long hair.

The delicate features.

The hearing aids partially hidden beneath it.

The soft voice.

The calmness.

Vincent hadn’t immediately connected him to the little child he vaguely remembered.

Not until his mother mentioned the Rosewoods.

“Does he still grow his hair long?” his mother asked.

Vincent looked at her.

“Yes.”

His mother smiled.

“I knew it.”

His brother looked confused.

“Wait.”

He looked between them.

“Riley has long hair?”

“Yes,” Vincent said.

His brother frowned.

“Is Riley a girl?”

Vincent looked at him.

“No.”

His brother shrugged.

“But if his hair is that long—”

“Men can grow their hair out too, you know.”

His brother nodded.

“Yeah.”

He took another bite of food.

“True.”

Vincent shook his head.

His mother laughed.

“Riley has always been like that.”

Vincent looked at her.

“Like what?”

“Quiet.”

He listened.

“He was always such a quiet child.”

His mother’s expression softened as she spoke.

“Not shy exactly.”

Vincent’s eyes remained on her.

“He just didn’t need to be the loudest person in the room.”

Vincent thought about Monday.

That sounded right.

His mother continued.

“But he was cheerful.”

Vincent looked down at his plate.

“Cheerful?”

“Very.”

She smiled.

“He had this smile.”

Vincent looked up.

“What kind of smile?”

His mother laughed softly.

“The kind that could ease a room.”

Vincent said nothing.

“He could walk into a room where everyone was tense, and somehow…”

She waved her hand.

“The atmosphere would change.”

Vincent remembered Riley smiling when he had shown him the plans.

It hadn’t been a loud smile.

It had simply been warm.

Natural.

Easy.

His mother continued.

“Riley always had warmth in him.”

Vincent listened quietly.

“He was calm. Gentle. But don’t mistake that for weakness.”

His mother pointed her fork at him.

“That boy always knew what he wanted.”

Vincent’s mouth twitched slightly.

“I noticed.”

His mother smiled.

“I knew you would.”

Vincent didn’t ask what she meant.

She continued.

“And his face…”

His brother laughed.

“Mom.”

“What?”

“You’re describing him like he’s some kind of model.”

His mother laughed.

“I’m just saying he had very delicate features.”

Vincent remembered.

He couldn’t deny it.

Riley’s face was delicate.

His features were softer than Vincent expected.

And with the long hair framing his face, it was easy to understand why someone might mistake him for a girl from a distance.

His mother smiled.

“People used to think I had a daughter.”

Vincent looked at her.

“Because of Riley?”

“Of course.”

She laughed.

“I wanted a girl.”

Vincent’s brother grinned.

“So you named him Riley.”

“Yes.”

His mother looked pleased with herself.

“It’s a beautiful name.”

“It is,” Vincent said before thinking.

The table went quiet for half a second.

His brother slowly looked at him.

His mother smiled.

Vincent realized what he had just said.

He reached for his glass.

“What?”

His brother smirked.

“Nothing.”

Vincent narrowed his eyes.

“Then stop looking at me.”

“I’m not looking at you.”

“You are.”

His brother laughed.

Their mother simply smiled.

Vincent took a drink.

He didn’t understand why the conversation had stayed in his head longer than it should have.

Riley was an employee now.

A designer.

A professional hired to complete a project.

That was all.

At least, that was what Vincent told himself.

His mother continued talking about Riley’s childhood.

How he had always been observant.

How he preferred drawing to noisy games.

How he could sit quietly for hours working on something.

How his smile never seemed forced.

Vincent listened.

More than he intended to.

And with every detail his mother gave him, Vincent found himself comparing it to the man who had sat across from him on Monday.

Quiet.

Calm.

Cheerful.

Warm.

Observant.

Confident without arrogance.

It fit.

Almost perfectly.

Vincent looked down at his plate.

For some reason, he could suddenly picture Riley standing inside the empty headquarters.

Walking through the unfinished rooms.

Looking at the walls.

The windows.

The open spaces.

Trying to imagine what they could become.

Vincent wondered what he would design.

Would Riley choose something traditional?

Something modern?

Something dramatic?

Or something completely unexpected?

His mother was still speaking.

“And Riley always had this way of making people comfortable.”

Vincent looked at her.

“He did?”

“Yes.”

She smiled.

“You’ll see.”

Vincent didn’t answer.

Because he already had.

And that was the strange part.

He had only met Riley once.

Yet somehow, by the end of dinner, Vincent felt as though he knew something about him that he hadn’t known before.

Tomorrow, Riley would bring his first designs.

Vincent would review them.

He would judge the concepts.

He would decide whether Riley truly understood what Stanley Corporation needed.

That was the professional part.

That was what mattered.

Vincent finished his dinner and stood.

His mother looked at him.

“Don’t work too late.”

“I won’t.”

She gave him a look.

Vincent sighed.

“I’ll try.”

“Better.”

He walked upstairs.

Once inside his room, he loosened his tie and placed his phone on the desk.

He stood by the window for a moment.

The city stretched beyond the glass.

Lights.

Buildings.

Movement.

Millions of people living lives Vincent knew nothing about.

His phone vibrated.

An email.

Vincent picked it up.

For a second, he expected another business report.

Instead, he saw the name.

Riley Rosewood.

Vincent stared at the screen.

He opened the message.

Nothing yet.

Just a short update.

I’ll have the first concepts ready tomorrow.

Vincent read it twice.

Then he placed the phone down.

Tomorrow.

He would finally see what Riley had imagined for the new headquarters.

And for the first time in a long while, Vincent found himself looking forward to something that had nothing to do with money, contracts, or business.

He didn’t know why.

And he wasn’t going to question it.

Not yet.

Tomorrow was Friday.

And Riley Rosewood had a blank canvas to fill.

Vincent intended to see exactly what he would do with it.