Halloween WIP (Fated Series ?)

"This is NOT what I envisioned when I agreed to tie up seventeen million dollars in this...little investment." The disgust fairly oozed into the room with the rumbled words.

"I know there have been a few changes, Mr. Holliday-"

"A few?" Grant Holliday repeated the phrase as if testing a new flavor, and so far, he didn't like the taste. "Mr. Lane, a few would be it needing another window, or a wall." He glanced at the blueprints, touching his fingertips to the paper. "Although, I'm not sure you could fit another window in here," he muttered.

Shoving his hands into his pockets, he stalked away from the table. "Look, I want to have a chance to talk to the lead architect." Grant stopped in front of the windows. Glass wall more accurately. No damn wonder there were seventy billion windows on the prints. He shook his head, turning his attention to the view offered by all that openness the wall provided. The city gleamed in the afternoon sun.  The oranges and pinks combined to flash like fire across the glass and concrete jungle twenty-six stories below him.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Holliday, but Will is out at the moment."

"Out?" Grant jingled his keys, the only sign of his agitation. "How long will he be 'out'?" The word hung between them.

"He was needed on site at another project he is lead on." Jared Roberts leaned forward, resting his forearms on the oak desk.  "I understand your concerns here, Grant, but I've never met a man with a better vision than Wilson Sayer."

Grant turned his back on the city, facing the man he had known more than half his life.  He and Jared met in their Freshman year of high school. Jared was the reason his money was backing this project. He knew Jared had the vision to pull this type of job off, and his architects were top notch. But this? This came so far out of left field Grant was thinking he might need to cut his loses on it.

"Jared-"

"Sorry I'm late, Lane." The door opened, admitting a dark brown haired man of about twenty-five. "I got your text, but couldn't break free from Mrs. Robins grasp to reply. Now, where's the latest problem?" He glanced up from the phone in his hand, coming to a stop just inside the door. "Oh, shit." His eyes widened as he took in the tableau in front of him.
Grant eyed the young man.  Short, dark brown hair stuck up as much as it could from the top of his head.  The man's jaw was darkened by the growth of stubble as if he hadn't been concerned enough to shave.  Grants gaze traveled down the man's body taking in the rumbled t shirt, and jeans.  He stopped at the man's crotch.  The man's cock twitched.  Wasn't his fault he stared.  Team player.  Go team go.
                                                           ~~~

Wilson Sayer bounded off the elevator on the twenty-sixth floor of the Roberts-Holliday building. Micah Lane, administrative assistant and right hand to his boss, Jared Roberts, had texted him thirty minutes ago about a shit storm that had blown in, taking shape in the form of Grant Holliday.
He hoped this could be circumvented, but Will suspected it would be a cold day in Hell before he could get out of a face-to-face.
He'd seen the man on different occasions.  There had never been a formal introduction, for which Will was eternally grateful. He feared he would make a complete fool of himself. The man was like a god. Money. Family connections, through Mr. Roberts, but still. AND total sex appeal on two legs. He felt the blood rush to his cock. "Hell, not now." The words groaned, barely audible, from Will's lips.
He paused in front of Micah's office door, made an adjustment to his unruly dick, and twisted the handle, walking in unannounced as was his habit. Head down, focus on his phone, Will entered the outer sanctum to Robert's office. "Sorry I'm late, Lane. I got your text, but I couldn't break free from Mrs. Robins' grasp to reply. Now, where's the latest problem?" He glanced up, coming to a stop just inside the door. "Oh, shit."