My Riley

Chapter Nine-Vincent

Vincent had been looking forward to seeing the headquarters.

He wouldn’t have admitted that to anyone.

But it was true.

For the past two months, he had seen the project through drawings, photographs, samples, invoices, budgets, and weekly meetings.

He had watched Riley work.

And that was something Vincent had come to respect.

Riley was professional.

He listened.

He accepted corrections without becoming defensive.

But he also didn’t simply agree with everything Vincent said.

If Vincent suggested a change, Riley would consider it.

Sometimes he accepted it immediately.

Other times, he would explain why he thought another option would work better.

Vincent liked that.

He didn’t want someone who would simply nod at everything he said because he was the client.

He wanted someone who understood his own work well enough to have an opinion.

Riley did.

And he brought something of himself into every meeting.

He never arrived empty-handed.

There were always samples.

New sketches.

Revised concepts.

Material options.

Budgets.

Updated schedules.

Something.

The man was always prepared.

That morning, Vincent sat in the back of the car as they drove toward the new headquarters.

He looked through the window.

The city passed by.

His mind went over the project again.

Forty percent completed.

That was what Riley had told him.

Forty percent.

It wasn’t a huge number when you looked at the entire building.

But Vincent had learned that percentages didn’t always tell the entire story.

If the difficult structural work had already been completed, then forty percent of the interior could represent much more progress than the number suggested.

That was what he wanted to see.

He wanted to see whether Riley had actually managed to turn the concept into reality.

The car slowed as they approached the building.

Vincent looked up.

The headquarters stood ahead of him.

Large.

Modern.

New.

But still partially unfinished.

There were workers moving around outside.

Construction vehicles were parked nearby.

Some materials were being moved into the building.

A few workers were carrying equipment through the entrance.

Vincent stepped out of the car.

And immediately saw Riley.

Riley was standing near the entrance.

His long hair was neatly arranged, falling around his shoulders.

His tablet was in one hand.

His secretary stood a few steps behind him.

Riley noticed Vincent.

His face immediately brightened.

“Good morning, Mr. Stanley.”

Vincent looked at him.

There it was again.

Mr. Stanley.

He had been hearing that name from Riley for two months.

Every meeting.

Every email.

Every conversation.

Mr. Stanley.

Vincent had told him more than once.

“You can call me Vincent.”

And yet…

Riley always returned to Mr. Stanley.

Vincent didn’t understand why it bothered him.

It shouldn’t.

Everyone called him Mr. Stanley.

Employees.

Executives.

Clients.

Business partners.

Even people who had known him for years sometimes still used his surname.

It was normal.

Professional.

Respectful.

So why did it sound different when Riley said it?

Vincent pushed the thought aside.

“Good morning.”

Riley smiled.

“How was your morning?”

“Busy.”

Riley nodded.

“Mine too.”

Vincent glanced toward the building.

“Ready?”

Riley’s smile widened.

“Very.”

They walked inside.

The first thing Vincent noticed was that the building no longer felt empty.

It wasn’t finished.

There were still workers.

Tools.

Materials.

Protective coverings in some areas.

Sections that clearly needed more work.

But the lobby—

Vincent stopped.

He looked around.

The reception desk stood exactly where Riley had shown him in the sketches.

The natural stone caught the light beautifully.

The wooden details softened the space.

Plants were positioned carefully throughout the area.

The lighting was warm.

Not bright enough to feel harsh.

Not dim enough to feel dark.

The entire area looked sophisticated.

But it didn’t feel cold.

Vincent slowly walked farther inside.

Riley watched him.

“This is the reception area,” Riley explained.

Vincent nodded.

“I can see that.”

Riley smiled.

“I know.”

Vincent looked at the reception desk.

“The stone.”

“Locally sourced where we could use it,” Riley explained. “The rest came from the supplier we discussed.”

Vincent nodded.

“And the lighting?”

“Energy-efficient LED. The warmer temperature was intentional.”

Vincent looked up.

He remembered the presentation.

It looked exactly like the sketches.

That impressed him.

Sometimes designers presented something beautiful and then produced something completely different once construction started.

Riley hadn’t.

The concept had survived the transition.

Vincent walked toward the waiting area.

The chairs were comfortable-looking without appearing casual.

The tables were simple.

The greenery was subtle.

There was enough space between everything to allow people to move easily.

Vincent sat down briefly.

He looked around.

“This works.”

Riley smiled.

“Good.”

Vincent stood.

They continued.

The conference room was next.

Vincent entered.

The long table.

The lighting.

The integrated technology.

The acoustic treatment.

The large windows.

Everything had been thought through.

Vincent ran his hand over the edge of the table.

“When did this arrive?”

“Last week.”

“And the lighting?”

“Three days ago.”

Vincent nodded.

He looked toward Riley.

“You’ve been moving quickly.”

Riley shrugged.

“We have a deadline.”

Vincent looked at him.

“You’ve been working on this constantly, haven’t you?”

Riley smiled.

“Pretty much.”

Vincent could tell.

There was no arrogance in Riley’s answer.

He wasn’t bragging.

He was simply stating the truth.

They walked through several executive offices.

Each one followed the same design language.

But they weren’t identical.

Different layouts.

Different seating arrangements.

Different storage solutions.

Vincent noticed the details.

Riley had actually done what he promised.

He had designed spaces based on function.

Not just appearance.

They passed through another corridor where construction was still underway.

Workers were installing fixtures.

Others were moving materials.

Some walls were still waiting for their final finishes.

Vincent looked around.

“How much is left?”

Riley checked his tablet.

“Approximately sixty percent.”

Vincent nodded.

“But most of the construction issues?”

“Handled.”

“The electrical?”

“Completed in the areas we’re working in.”

“Plumbing?”

“Completed.”

“Outlets?”

“Already planned and installed according to the layouts.”

“HVAC?”

“Mostly done. We’re just finishing a few adjustments in some areas.”

Vincent nodded.

That was good.

The building itself was ready.

What remained was largely Riley’s part.

Interior design.

Procurement.

Installation.

Finishing.

Bringing the building to life.

Vincent looked around again.

Forty percent.

He understood now.

It wasn’t simply forty percent of an empty building.

It was forty percent of a vision.

And what he had seen was enough to convince him that the remaining sixty percent was in capable hands.

Riley continued explaining everything.

He spoke about upcoming deliveries.

Furniture.

Lighting fixtures.

Materials.

The shipment arriving at the port.

The things already stored in the building.

The things still being cleared.

He explained the schedule.

The installation teams.

The contractors.

The expected completion timeline.

Four to five months.

Vincent listened.

“You still believe you’ll finish within five months?”

Riley looked at him.

“Yes.”

“Confident?”

“Yes.”

Vincent nodded.

“Good.”

Riley smiled.

They continued walking.

Eventually, they reached the executive floor.

Vincent looked around.

This was the area that would eventually contain his office.

It wasn’t finished yet.

But Riley had already marked where everything would go.

Vincent studied the layout.

Then looked at Riley.

“I like it.”

Riley smiled.

“Thank you.”

Vincent nodded.

“Actually…”

He looked around again.

“I like all of this.”

Riley’s smile softened.

“I’m glad.”

Vincent turned toward him.

“You’ve done well.”

Riley looked almost surprised.

“Thank you.”

Vincent meant it.

Genuinely.

There was no need to exaggerate.

The work spoke for itself.

It was efficient.

Thoughtful.

Sophisticated.

And most importantly, it didn’t feel like Riley had designed it simply because he was being paid.

There was something personal in it.

Every space felt considered.

Every detail seemed to have a reason.

Vincent had worked with enough people to know the difference between someone completing a job and someone caring about what they were creating.

Riley cared.

That was obvious.

After nearly two hours, they finally returned to the entrance.

Riley walked beside him.

His secretary followed behind them, already checking something on her tablet.

Vincent stepped outside.

The sunlight was brighter than he’d expected.

He turned toward Riley.

“Thank you.”

Riley smiled.

“You’re welcome.”

“I’ll review the remaining approvals.”

“Okay.”

“And send me the updated budget when the next shipment clears.”

“I will.”

Vincent nodded.

“Good.”

Riley smiled.

“Have a good day, Mr. Stanley.”

Vincent paused.

Again.

Mr. Stanley.

He looked at Riley.

There was something he wanted to say.

He had said it before.

But this time, for some reason, he wanted to make sure Riley understood.

“Riley.”

“Yes?”

Vincent looked directly at him.

“You can call me Vincent.”

Riley blinked.

“Oh.”

There was a small smile on his face.

“I know.”

Vincent raised an eyebrow.

“Then why don’t you?”

Riley laughed softly.

“I don’t know.”

“Everyone else calls me Mr. Stanley.”

“I know.”

“Exactly.”

Riley looked slightly amused.

“I’ll try.”

Vincent stared at him.

“Try?”

“Yes.”

Vincent shook his head.

“Just Vincent.”

Riley smiled.

“Okay.”

He nodded.

“Vincent.”

Something about hearing his first name from Riley sounded strangely different.

Vincent didn’t know why.

He simply nodded.

“Good.”

Riley stepped back.

“See you next week.”

“See you.”

Vincent walked toward the car.

Before getting inside, he glanced back.

Riley was still standing near the entrance.

His secretary was speaking to him.

He was already looking at his tablet again.

Already working.

Vincent got into the car.

As they pulled away, he looked back through the window.

The headquarters slowly disappeared behind them.

Vincent leaned back.

He was impressed.

Genuinely impressed.

The efficiency.

The timeline.

The organization.

The dedication.

Riley wasn’t doing this because Stanley Corporation had given him a large contract.

At least, that wasn’t what it looked like.

He was doing it because he cared about the work.

Because he had a vision.

Because he wanted to see that vision become real.

And Vincent respected that.

He looked out the window again.

Forty percent.

It was only forty percent.

But if the first forty percent looked like that…

Vincent couldn’t help wondering what the finished building would look like.

And for the first time since the project began, he wasn’t worried about whether Riley could finish it.

He was simply curious to see what Riley would create next.

Then another thought came to him.

He had finally gotten Riley to call him Vincent.

It shouldn’t have mattered.

It was only a name.

Yet somehow, Vincent found himself smiling.

Just slightly.

And he didn’t bother asking himself why.