My Riley

Chapter Eight-Riley

Two months.

That was how long it had been.

Two months since Riley Rosewood had signed the contract with Stanley Corporation and officially taken responsibility for transforming their new headquarters.

And honestly?

He barely remembered what a normal workday felt like anymore.

His life had become schedules.

Plans.

Samples.

Invoices.

Measurements.

Phone calls.

Emails.

Site visits.

Meetings.

More emails.

More calls.

And then, somehow, more work.

But Riley couldn’t complain.

Because when he stood inside the new headquarters and looked around, he could finally see it.

The building was no longer completely empty.

Forty percent.

That was the number Riley had been using whenever someone asked how far they were.

Forty percent of the building was done.

Not planned.

Not sketched.

Done.

The lobby was finished.

The reception area was finished.

The waiting area was finished.

Several executive offices were completed.

A few conference spaces had been completed.

Some of the lighting installations were already in place.

Furniture had arrived.

Some materials had been installed.

Plants had been brought in.

The walls had begun to carry personality.

The building was finally starting to look like the headquarters Riley had imagined when he’d first opened the plans two months ago.

He stood in the middle of the lobby that morning, holding his tablet.

He slowly looked around.

The reception desk sat exactly where he had envisioned it.

The natural stone caught the morning light.

The wood details softened the space.

The greenery added life without overwhelming the room.

The lighting was warm.

Not too bright.

Not too dim.

Just right.

Riley smiled.

“Okay.”

He nodded to himself.

“This is actually working.”

His secretary walked toward him.

“Riley.”

He turned.

“Yes?”

“The shipment from the port is still being cleared.”

Riley nodded.

“Okay.”

“They said they should have an update by this afternoon.”

“Good.”

She looked at her tablet.

“Also, the construction company confirmed the installation team for the executive floor.”

“Tomorrow?”

“No. Monday.”

Riley frowned slightly.

“Can they start tomorrow?”

“They said they can send a smaller team tomorrow.”

“Send them.”

His secretary smiled.

“I knew you were going to say that.”

Riley laughed softly.

“Of course.”

She continued.

“The furniture for the second conference room is already inside.”

“Good.”

“The lighting fixtures for the west wing are still on the way.”

“How long?”

“Three days.”

Riley nodded.

“Okay.”

She looked at him.

“Anything else?”

Riley thought for a moment.

“Yes.”

“What?”

“Coffee.”

She laughed.

“I already ordered it.”

Riley smiled.

“You’re the best.”

“I know.”

She walked away.

Riley looked around again.

This was what the last two months had looked like.

Constant movement.

There had been no time to sit back and admire anything.

Every time one thing was finished, five other things needed attention.

He had spent mornings reviewing drawings.

Afternoons at the building.

Evenings going through invoices.

Some nights he had stayed awake checking material samples.

There had been meetings every week with Mr. Stanley.

Every single week.

Sometimes in person.

Sometimes with documents spread across a conference table.

Sometimes Riley would bring samples.

Sometimes he would bring revised sketches.

Sometimes they would discuss budgets.

Other times they would discuss materials.

Lighting.

Furniture.

Layouts.

Functionality.

Security.

Privacy.

Sustainability.

And every week, Vincent Stanley would ask questions.

Riley had learned quickly that Vincent didn’t ask questions just to challenge people.

He actually wanted to understand.

If Riley said a particular material was better, Vincent wanted to know why.

If Riley changed a layout, Vincent wanted to know what had changed.

If a budget increased, Vincent wanted to know where the money was going.

It made Riley work harder.

But he respected it.

Vincent never interfered simply for the sake of control.

If Riley explained his reasoning and it made sense, Vincent usually approved it.

There had been disagreements.

Of course there had.

Riley remembered one meeting when Vincent had stared at a particular material sample for nearly a minute.

“I don’t like it.”

Riley had looked at him.

“Why?”

“It looks too cold.”

Riley had smiled.

“That’s exactly what I was trying to avoid.”

Vincent had looked at him.

“Then why did you bring it?”

“Because I wanted you to see the difference.”

Vincent had stared at him for another second.

Then he had nodded.

“Fair.”

That was Vincent.

Direct.

Controlled.

Sometimes intimidating.

But fair.

Riley had gotten used to him.

At least a little.

He was still Mr. Stanley.

Still the man who could make an entire meeting room go quiet simply by walking into it.

But Riley no longer felt nervous every time he saw him.

Their weekly meetings had become routine.

Riley would walk in with his tablet.

Vincent would already have the documents open.

They would discuss the project.

Then Riley would leave with another list of things to do.

And now, after two months…

Tomorrow was different.

Tomorrow Vincent was finally coming to see the work.

Not through a presentation.

Not through photographs.

Not through samples.

In person.

Riley looked around the lobby again.

His stomach tightened slightly.

“Okay.”

He whispered to himself.

“You’ve got this.”

He walked toward the reception desk.

He ran his fingers lightly over the edge.

Perfect.

He checked the lighting.

Perfect.

He looked at the seating arrangement.

Perfect.

He turned toward the entrance.

The first thing people would see when they walked into Stanley Corporation was this.

Riley had wanted it to feel sophisticated.

But not intimidating.

Important.

But not cold.

Professional.

But still welcoming.

And standing there now, he thought he’d managed it.

He checked his tablet.

Forty percent.

That was where they were.

The rest was still moving.

Procurement had been a huge part of the project.

Half of the major procurement had already been completed.

Some of the materials were stored inside the building.

Others were on their way.

Some shipments were already arriving at the port.

They simply needed to clear customs and be transported to the site.

Riley had spent countless hours checking invoices.

Approving quotations.

Comparing suppliers.

Following up on deliveries.

Checking measurements.

Confirming quantities.

Making sure nobody ordered the wrong material.

One wrong measurement could cost them days.

One delayed shipment could affect an entire section.

One incorrect furniture order could mean weeks of waiting for a replacement.

Riley had learned to double-check everything.

Sometimes three times.

His own company was involved.

His secretary was coordinating between everyone.

The construction company.

The installers.

The furniture suppliers.

The lighting suppliers.

The people working under Riley’s company.

The project team.

Everyone.

It had become all hands on deck.

And Riley wanted it that way.

He had set himself a deadline.

Four to five months.

That was it.

He didn’t want the project dragging into six months.

Or seven.

The building itself was already constructed.

That gave them an advantage.

They weren’t waiting for walls to be built.

The main construction was complete.

Now it was about turning the structure into a functioning headquarters.

Design.

Procurement.

Installation.

Finishing.

Testing.

Final touches.

And Riley wanted to keep everything moving.

He didn’t want unnecessary delays.

He opened the project schedule on his tablet.

Tomorrow.

Mr. Stanley.

Site inspection.

His stomach fluttered again.

He had shown Vincent hundreds of things over the last two months.

But tomorrow would be different.

Vincent would see the actual result.

The lobby.

The reception.

The waiting area.

The offices.

The conference rooms.

He would walk through the spaces Riley had spent weeks imagining.

Riley knew the presentation had been good.

Vincent had told him he liked the concept.

But that had been two months ago.

Now the concept had become physical.

There was nowhere to hide behind a tablet anymore.

Riley walked toward one of the completed executive offices.

He opened the door.

The room was beautiful.

A large desk.

Natural wood.

A comfortable seating area.

Soft lighting.

Minimal decoration.

A few plants.

Everything had a purpose.

He checked the positioning of the chairs.

Then the lighting.

Then the artwork.

He adjusted one chair by a few centimeters.

“Better.”

His secretary appeared at the doorway.

“You’ve been standing there for five minutes.”

Riley turned.

“Have I?”

“Yes.”

He smiled.

“I’m checking.”

“You’re always checking.”

“That’s my job.”

She laughed.

“You need to rest.”

“I’ll rest when the building is finished.”

She shook her head.

“You’re impossible.”

Riley smiled.

“Thank you.”

“That wasn’t a compliment.”

“I took it as one.”

She laughed and walked away.

Riley looked around the office.

Then he looked at his tablet again.

Most of the designs had already been approved.

There were only a few adjustments left.

A few things that still required Vincent’s final approval.

Small changes.

Nothing that would stop the project.

Tomorrow’s visit wasn’t supposed to be about approval.

Not exactly.

But Riley knew it mattered.

Vincent needed to see what he was paying for.

He needed to see what his company was becoming.

And Riley needed to know whether Vincent still believed in the vision.

Riley walked back toward the lobby.

He stood in the center.

For a moment, he closed his eyes.

He remembered the first day he’d seen the building.

Empty.

Cold.

Nothing but walls and windows.

He remembered standing there with his tablet, imagining everything.

Now it was real.

Not finished.

Not even close.

But alive.

Riley opened his eyes.

He smiled.

Forty percent.

He still had sixty percent to go.

And tomorrow, Vincent Stanley was finally going to see what forty percent looked like.

Riley took a deep breath.

“Let’s hope he likes it.”

Then he picked up his tablet and walked toward the next unfinished section.

There was still work to do.

A lot of it.

And Riley Rosewood had no intention of slowing down.

Not now.

Not when the blank canvas was finally beginning to look like a masterpiece.