Page 16 of Worth the Risk (Worth It All #1)
My phone buzzes as I’m leaving the coffee shop, Maya’s scent still lingering on my clothes from when she brushed past me at the door. The memory of her hand in mine, the way her pulse quickened when I traced her knuckles, has my body humming with an energy I can’t shake.
Harrison’s name flashes on the screen.
Can we meet? Off the record. There are things we need to discuss about your... approach to the Highland situation.
I stare at the message, feeling the familiar weight of corporate expectation settling on my shoulders like an expensive suit that’s just a size too small. Harrison Gordon—my father’s right-hand man, the keeper of Pierce Enterprises’ legacy, the voice of shareholder responsibility.
The man who’s been watching my every move since I took over the company three years ago.
Declan:
When and where?
Harrison:
My club. One hour. Private dining room.
Of course. The California Club, where deals are made over aged whiskey and handshake agreements that reshape downtown LA. Where my father conducted business for thirty years, where tradition matters more than innovation.
Where Declan Pierce the CEO belongs, not Declan Pierce the man who’s falling for a community organizer with fire in her eyes and petition papers in her hands.
Right now, I can only be one of those men—the one who can face Harrison and tell him exactly what he wants to hear.
Harrison is waiting when I arrive, seated at a corner table with two glasses of Macallan 18 already poured. He’s dressed in his usual uniform—navy suit, Pierce Enterprises cufflinks, the kind of understated wealth that whispers rather than shouts.
“Declan.” He stands to shake my hand, his grip firm and measured. “Thank you for coming on short notice.”
“Of course.” I settle into the opposite chair, noting how he’s chosen a table where we can’t be overheard. “You said this was off the record?”
“Indeed.” Harrison takes a sip of his whiskey, studying me over the rim of his glass. “I wanted to speak with you not as Pierce Enterprises’ board member, but as someone who worked alongside your father for fifteen years. Someone who cares about your success.”
The words should be reassuring. Instead, they feel like the opening move in a chess game I’m already losing.
“I appreciate that, Harrison. What’s on your mind?”
“Maya Navarro.” He sets down his glass with deliberate care. “More specifically, your growing personal involvement with her.”
Heat crawls up my neck. “My relationship with Miss Navarro is professional?—”
“Son.” Harrison’s voice carries paternal authority that makes you feel twelve years old again. “I’ve known you since you were in college. I watched your father train you for this position. I can read the signs.”
I take a drink, buying time while trying to figure out how much Harrison actually knows versus suspects. “What signs?”
“The way you talked about her during the board presentation. The fact that you’ve spent more time at Highland Community Center than in your own office this week. The reports I’m getting about your... collaborative approach.”
Reports. Someone is feeding information back to Harrison, or someone at Pierce Enterprises is tracking my movements more closely than I realized.
“Highland’s situation requires careful handling?—”
“Highland’s situation requires demolition and development, as originally planned.” Harrison leans forward slightly. “Declan, your father built Pierce Enterprises on the principle that business decisions must be made with complete objectivity. Personal feelings cannot influence strategic planning.”
“And if strategic planning evolves based on new information? If there are financial benefits to preservation we hadn’t considered?”
“Then we evaluate those benefits objectively, without emotional attachment to the messenger.” Harrison’s expression grows more serious.
“Declan, I made a promise to your father on his deathbed. I promised Maxwell that I’d help steer Pierce Enterprises toward the vision he’d spent thirty years building. ”
The admission catches me off guard. Harrison rarely mentions my father’s final days, the cancer that took him too quickly for proper goodbyes.
“What vision?”
“To be the premier development company on the West Coast. To prove that strategic thinking and disciplined execution could build something that lasts.” Harrison’s voice carries the weight of old obligations.
“Your father believed that business success required making hard choices, that sentiment was a luxury corporations couldn’t afford. ”
“And if there are better ways to generate profit? If community engagement actually creates more sustainable revenue streams?”
“Then we pursue those strategies based on financial analysis, not emotional attachment.” Harrison pauses. “Declan, Maya Navarro is an attractive, passionate woman fighting for something she believes in. That combination can be intoxicating to a man in your position.”
The clinical way he reduces Maya to a strategic problem makes my jaw clench. “Maya is Highland’s director. She’s presenting viable alternatives that could benefit Pierce Enterprises.”
“Maya is a community organizer who’s very good at making her cause seem personal to the men she’s trying to influence.
” Harrison’s voice carries the patience of someone explaining obvious truths.
“Your father faced similar situations—passionate advocates who believed that personal connection could override business reality. He learned to maintain appropriate boundaries.”
“What happened?”
“Maxwell maintained professional objectivity. The development proceeded as planned, generated substantial returns for our investors, and established Pierce Enterprises as a serious player in Los Angeles real estate.” Harrison’s voice carries satisfaction mixed with something that might be regret.
“And the community leader?”
“Found other battles to fight. They usually do.” Harrison checks his watch. “Declan, I’m not saying Maya Navarro isn’t remarkable. I’m saying that remarkable women can be career-ending distractions if you handle them incorrectly.”
Career-ending distractions. The phrase makes my stomach turn. “My career shouldn’t depend on avoiding connections with people who challenge my assumptions.”
“Your career depends on maintaining the judgment and objectivity that make you effective as Pierce Enterprises’ CEO.” Harrison’s voice grows more intense. “I promised your father I’d help you avoid the mistakes that could destroy what he built. We can’t let sentiment derail that progress.”
“And if community engagement actually advances that progress? If Highland’s preservation demonstrates that Pierce Enterprises can innovate beyond my father’s model?”
Harrison sets down his glass and looks at me with disappointment. “Then you present those innovations based on financial analysis, not emotional connection. You advocate for Highland because the numbers support it, not because you’re infatuated with its director.”
The word infatuated hits like cold water. Is that what this is? A CEO’s midlife crisis disguised as progressive business strategy?
But then I remember the way Maya’s eyes lit up when she talked about her research, the intelligence behind her preservation proposals, the strength it took to fight for Highland’s survival while planning for its potential relocation.
This isn’t infatuation—it’s recognition.
I’m drawn to Maya because she represents everything I wish I could be—someone who fights for principles instead of profit margins.
“Harrison, I appreciate your concern?—”
“My concern is honoring the promise I made to your father.” His voice grows more personal, vulnerable.
“Maxwell trusted me to help you build on his legacy, not tear it down for romantic complications. I’ve spent fifteen years helping Pierce Enterprises become what it is today.
I won’t watch that success get compromised. ”
“And if it’s both? If Maya and I share values that extend beyond Highland’s preservation?”
“Then you pursue those values after the Highland situation is resolved. After you’ve proven you can make objective business decisions despite personal feelings.
” Harrison’s expression softens slightly.
“I’m not saying Maya Navarro isn’t remarkable.
I’m saying that remarkable women can be career-ending distractions if you handle them incorrectly. ”
He checks his watch. “I have another meeting, but I want you to think about something—What would your father say about your handling of the Highland situation?”
His question follows me out of the club and into the early-evening traffic. What would Maxwell Pierce say about his son learning traditional dances and falling for community organizers? About boardroom decisions influenced by storage room kisses and collaborative meetings that feel more like dates?
He’d say I was weak. Compromised. Allowing sentiment to override strategic thinking.
He’d also say that business success requires sacrifice—that some things matter more than personal happiness.
But driving through downtown LA, passing the arts district where Highland sits and Maya works, I realize I’m tired of living up to my father’s expectations. Tired of measuring every decision against what Maxwell Pierce would have done.
For three years, I’ve been CEO Declan Pierce, carrying forward a legacy that prioritizes profit over everything else. Tonight, I want to be just Declan—the man who’s falling for a woman who fights for what matters, who challenges everything I thought I knew about building things of value.
My phone sits in the passenger seat, Maya’s address programmed into my GPS from when she mentioned the Meridian Apartments.
I shouldn’t go there. I should drive home to my empty house in the Hills, review Highland’s financial projections with professional objectivity, and prepare for Monday’s board presentation without personal complications.
Instead, I find myself taking the exit toward Figueroa Street.
The rational part of my brain lists all the reasons this is a mistake—Harrison’s warnings about appropriate boundaries, the board’s skepticism about my judgment, the professional complications of getting involved with someone whose organization I might have to disappoint.
But the part of me that’s been coming alive over the past month—the part that learned Highland community members’ names and helped with cultural festival cleanup—doesn’t care about rational arguments.
I need to see Maya. I need to find out if what’s building between us is real or just proximity and shared goals. I need to stop being the CEO who makes careful, calculated decisions, and be the man who takes risks for things that matter.
The Meridian Apartments are exactly what I expected—modest, well-maintained, the kind of place where real people live real lives without pretension or corporate luxury. I park across the street and sit in my car for a moment, noting how different this neighborhood feels from the Hollywood Hills.
This is Maya’s world. Community-focused, authentic, grounded in relationships rather than acquisitions.
Harrison’s voice echoes in my head: Career-ending distractions if you handle them incorrectly.
Maybe he’s right. Maybe I’m about to make the biggest mistake of my professional life. Maybe falling for Maya Navarro will compromise everything my father built, everything I’ve worked to maintain.
But sitting in my car across from her building, windows glowing warmly in the evening darkness, I realize I don’t care about maybe anymore.
I pull out my phone and type
I’m across the street from the Meridian Apartments.
The response takes forever—long enough for me to second-guess everything, to wonder if I’m making the biggest mistake of my career.
Then—
Maya:
What are you doing here?
Declan:
I needed to see you. But if you want me to leave, just say the word and I’ll go. No questions asked.
Another pause that feels eternal. I watch the lit windows of her building, my heart hammering against my ribs like it did when I was seventeen and calling girls for the first time.
Maya:
I don’t want you to leave.
Relief floods through me, followed immediately by anticipation that makes my pulse race.
Declan:
Unless you tell me your apartment number, I’m going to have to start knocking on doors. Starting with 3A.
Maya:
3F.