 by Brenda Rothert.jpg)
Total pages in book: 54
Estimated words: 52355 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 262(@200wpm)___ 209(@250wpm)___ 175(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 52355 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 262(@200wpm)___ 209(@250wpm)___ 175(@300wpm)
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
CHAPTER ONE
Mila
“You did it.”
Peter Cline, the lead attorney for the Colorado Coyotes, picks up the glass of champagne my assistant Quentin poured for him and holds it up.
“We did it,” I say, looking around at the group of Coyotes employees gathered in my office. “I can’t thank you enough for sticking with me during the past two years. Today is for celebrating, but tomorrow we’ll get back to work rebuilding.”
As everyone else raises their champagne flutes for a toast, I lift a thick shot glass of Stoli, the celebratory drink of choice in my family. The glass belonged to my grandfather and is one of my most prized possessions.
Deda was born into a poor Russian family and he made himself into a billionaire with his own blood and sweat. No tears, though, because that would be weak.
“Sorry I’m late,” says Ron Maddox as he walks into my office. He’ss the head coach of the Colorado Coyotes, the professional hockey team I own. “Did you get it?”
“We got it!”
He pumps his fist in the air. “Yes! I don’t know how you pulled that off, Mila, but you did a damn good job. How much did you get?”
“All of it. The last $25 million.”
It’s been more than two years since the Shapiro Center was destroyed due to multiple facility explosions, killing twenty-two people. The investigation into the explosions took nearly a year and were eventually ruled as accidents—one caused by faulty wiring and the other caused by fire from the first explosion reaching chemicals in a storage room.
Our team has been sharing the home ice of a local community college’s hockey team, which has eaten into our bottom line significantly because of the much smaller seating capacity. We wanted our new arena to be the biggest and the best in the league, which meant acquiring property and financial assistance from the city of Denver. It’s been a bureaucratic nightmare, every milestone wrapped in red tape.
But today, I got the call from one of our state senators that we’re getting a state grant worth $25 million to cover the last of the funding.
“How’d you get the governor to cave?” Peter asks me.
“He didn’t. I went around him.”
Our state’s governor, Mike Mills, was behind many of the roadblocks I ran into as I tried to secure funding for the new arena. I bet on the wrong horse in the last election, giving heavy financial backing to the incumbent governor. Now Mills wants my head.
Coach Maddox shakes his head and grins in my direction. “Balls of steel, Mila.”
I’ll be the first to admit, it was a hell of a fight. It’s well known that I’m not self-made; my father is a Russian billionaire with a well-deserved reputation for ruthlessness who gave me the money I used to start my business career.
But no matter how many times I multiply that money, I’m still seen as the entitled daughter of a criminal. I put as much distance between myself and my father as I could as a teenager, but even now, at age thirty, it’s always his reputation that precedes me rather than my own.
“Do you want me to ask the PR department to put together a press release?” Quentin asks me.
“No,” I say, remembering the caveat for receiving the grant for the new arena. “Everyone, can I have your attention for just a second? This is really important.” The room quiets. “We are not authorized to announce this. There will be a press conference held by Senator Shumaker’s office and we’ll need everyone to attend. The politicians want us to kiss the ring over this money, and we’re going to.”
“You got it, boss,” Coach Maddox says.
People start to filter out of the room, returning to work. It’s late morning, and I have a full day scheduled.
But first, I get to sneak out of my office for my favorite part of the workday.
There’s a corner of the press booth at the community college’s arena where I can sit out of sight to watch the team practice. The college team practices early and our team gets the ice later in the morning, but several college players usually hang around to watch or take part in drills with our team.
I’ve loved hockey since I was a little girl. I was sent to a Swiss boarding school, but when I came home for breaks, my father would sometimes play ice hockey with me and my brothers. It was the only time I saw him smile and have fun.
Now I get to sign some of the best players in the world to play on the team I own. Ford Barrett is a recent acquisition I’m especially proud of. He’s our team captain and is part of the first offensive line. Beau Fox and Colby Harrison round out the first line, and I’d put them up against any first line in the league.