Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 63311 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 317(@200wpm)___ 253(@250wpm)___ 211(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63311 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 317(@200wpm)___ 253(@250wpm)___ 211(@300wpm)
I didn’t react. There was no point. He was an idiot…always had been.
“Paris is smaller and not an immediate issue,” I replied after a moment. “But I don’t like the idea of closing the London branch or—”
“Absolutely not!” he thundered.
“Relax, Gil.”
If looks could kill, I’d have been dead as a post in seconds flat. The sodding fool hated casual reminders that I knew him well. If he didn’t know in his gut that I was his best solution, he wouldn’t be here now. The intellectual geniuses at this table might be surprised to know this entire blasted deal was truly a war between pride and greed. Greed would win in the end. It always did with this particular arsehole.
Blower glared a hole into my forehead. “I will not countenance any talk of downsizing or God forbid, closing our home office. So help me, I will walk out the door this instant.”
“You have my word,” I said softly. “However, something has to give. And if anyone suggests otherwise, they’re lying to you. Now…shall we continue?”
“What about Birmingham?”
“Unfortunately, the Birmingham office will close,” I replied, my tone carefully void of emotion.
His cheeks reddened and his nostrils flared angrily. If he didn’t have an audience, he surely would have erupted. “And Padstow?”
I frowned. “Padstow. I wasn’t aware of an office in Padstow.”
“No office, per se, but the property there should be preserved.”
“In Padstow?”
What kind of game was this? Padstow was a fucking fishing village in Cornwall. There was no property of interest there.
“Yes. It’s a large estate of historical significance,” he said, as if that made sense. “It should remain in its trust.”
“We’ll look into it.” I inclined my chin and tapped the table, ready to move to the next topic on the agenda.
“Our solicitors can confer legalities. If we can agree to the final round of numbers and my stipulations for London, Paris, and Padstow, I believe this can be resolved in a timely manner.”
London, Paris, and Padstow. Oh, my.
I gave a bemused half laugh, adding, “I’m sorry, but Padstow is a bit of a curve ball, Gil.”
“Not really. It’s more a matter of fine print and details. Those are my terms. If not, we’ll go with Lloyd’s.”
Blower’s ugly sneer gave him a cartoonish look that would have been humorous under lighter circumstances. Not now. He was playing me, and I had no idea what his angle was. A new asset required new numbers, more legalese, and a delay. None of those things were in his best interest, unless Lloyd’s had raised their offer.
Fuck.
Of course, my meeting with Blower took longer than scheduled and threw my whole afternoon off. I snacked on carrots and protein bars in lieu of an actual meal while I sat in on a series of conference calls, each more pressing than the last. I didn’t have time for food. I barely had a minute away from my computer. In other words, it was a day like any other ending in Y.
Well…almost. Raine was here, somewhere in this building. Just knowing he was nearby made me anxious. His presence was yet another puzzle on a day where nothing added up, I mused, hiking my laptop under my arm.
I glanced out at the twinkling city lights below, noting the sheet of fog painting a hazy film over the Thames in the twilight hour. It was beautiful. Nothing like the view from my suite in Vegas. This was real, and that was all plastic. Except for Raine.
I could still picture him gazing out the window and—
Christ, he had to go.
“Sir?”
I peeked over at my assistant. “Sorry. Did you say something?”
“Yes. Just wanted to know if you needed anything or if you were heading home?” Julia asked, waiting for me in the conference room doorway.
“Home. You?”
“Same. It’s been a long day.”
“Aye.” I fell into step beside her, humming in acknowledgment as she briefed me on tomorrow’s meetings. I pressed the button to my floor in the lift, clandestinely observing her through her veil of dark hair. “I have a question, Julia.”
She cocked her head. “Yes?”
“Where did you find your new assistant?”
She turned a shade of gray, pushing her hair behind her ear nervously before replying. “Through our Los Angeles agency. Mr. Edwards applied for a position there and stated he was willing to relocate. His CV shuffled around some, but made its way to my desk after my team did its due diligence. Is there a problem?”
“Not at all. I trust you.” The lift jolted to a stop and the doors slid open. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Yes, sir. Good night, sir.”
Hmm. Yes, something was definitely off.
I continued on to my floor. My Italian loafers echoed in the silence as I headed through pristine corridors, the white walls adorned with priceless modern art. At this time of evening, the hallways should have been covered in shadows, but the lights in the lobby leading to my office were on. They were on a timer and should have switched off after Bernadette had left for the day. Odd.