“Yes sir.”
I end the call and send a group text to Seth and Nick: I’m here and he’s on his way. I exit the Bentley and head inside, claiming a booth that allows me to see the door and setting my phone on the table, only to have it buzz. Glancing at the caller ID, I answer and hear Freddy “Maverick” Woods, the head partner of the firm I left for all this joy I’m living, say, “Have you considered my offer from last night?”
“I don’t remember saying I would.”
“You’d be the youngest senior partner in our history.”
Senior partner in New York, away from the Martina cartel, and with Emily by my side. I want it, but I can’t have it. “We talked about this. My father’s dying. I have a company to run.”
“Let your brother run it.”
“To the ground,” I say. “No thank you.” I push steel into my voice. “My answer is still no.”
“Subject to change?”
“Balls to the wall,” I say, repeating what he and I had said often in my days as his employee. “I’m here to stay.”
“I’ll ask again in a month.” He ends the call and I set the phone down.
“Shane.”
At the sound of a far too familiar female voice, I look up to find Lana Smith, an attractive brunette with her hair tied at the nape, standing at my table. She’s also a brilliant scientist, Will’s second in command, and a woman who’d been a much regretted college fuck buddy I prefer not to acknowledge.
“Do you have a moment?” she asks.
“If that,” I say. “I’m about to meet with your boss.”
“I’ll be fast,” she says, wasting no time settling into the seat across from me, and in typical Lana style, she leans in to expose the ample cleavage of her gray dress, which I ignore, as she adds, “I seem to have bad timing with you, though you buying the company I work for seems like a twist of fate.”
“Fate didn’t bring us together. Business did.”
“But what are the odds of you being the one behind the acquisition of a company I work for?”
“Big -money pharmaceuticals drawing the attention of a major conglomerate like Brandon Enterprises is more likely than not.”
“Right. Of course.” She gives me a keen look. “You haven’t forgiven me, have you?”
I don’t pretend ignorance I don’t appreciate in others. “It’s ancient history, Lana, and better left there considering I’m one of your employers.” My brow furrows as the past becomes a little too present to be ignored. “However, it is a bit ironic that you hid drugs in my car and almost cost me Harvard, considering you now work for a drug company.”
Her eyes go wide with surprise. “It was weed and we were young. You can’t seriously see that as an issue.”
I look at her, trying to decide if this is a red flag or a bad coincidence.
She obviously reads the questions in my silence, straightening in her chair, her attempts to show her breasts forgotten. “I’m good at my job. I’m one of the best in my field, an expert in—”
“I know your credentials.” My gaze flicks to the door, to the gray haired, slender man in a white button-down and khakis. “Your boss is here,” I say, leveling her with a stare. “Was there something you needed that I haven’t addressed?”
“Nothing we can cover with an audience.” She stands, and turns to greet William, who visibly jolts with her presence. “Hello, William.”
He looks at me. “I didn’t realize Lana was attending this meeting.”
“I’m not,” Lana says quickly. “If you remember, Mr. Brandon and I went to college together and I came for coffee and he was here and … I’m going back to work.” She steps around him and walks toward the counter.
Already focused on William, I motion for him to sit. “Thanks for coming.”
“It sounded urgent,” he says, joining me.
“I’m not going to mince words. It is.” He slips his hands under the table, a classic way to hide a tremble. “I didn’t bring you here to talk about acquisitions,” I continue. “I have a problem.”
He swallows hard. “What kind of problem?”
“The board of directors is not pleased with our profit margins.”
“That’s crazy,” he says, his hands finding their way to the table. “Our margins are exceptional.”
“They aren’t at the level you and I discussed.”
“We set a one-year goal,” he argues. “We’re only halfway there and on pace to be right on target.”
“That might be true, but I need something to excite the board, teasers that show we can be more and do more.”
“I hope I’m not interrupting,” I glance up at the sound of a male voice to find a man in a dark suit with graying hair standing by our table. “Actually,” he adds, grabbing a chair to the end of our table and sitting down, “I really don’t care if I’m interrupting.”
“Who the fuck are you?” I demand.