at that, like the answer was obvious, like I’d been a fool for asking.
That didn’t dissuade twenty-one-year-old me. “Deal me in? I have the cash.”
At that, Nick had actually put down his cards. The other guys were looking at me then. Some with interest in their eyes—one of them ran his gaze up my form in a way that was nothing short of lewd.
Nick met my gaze. The eyes gave me no quarter, offered no mercy. They were dark like coal and just as fiery.
“This isn’t a game for little girls,” he said. “Run back to your friends now.”
Maybe it would have been okay if he’d said it as a joke. If there had been a teasing note to his voice, a bit of irony. Perhaps even anger—I’d know what to do with that. But the cold civility in his tone shocked me to my core. It was a dismissal. I wasn’t used to being dismissed.
That was the first time I’d reached out to Nick in the hopes of being friends, and it was the first time he rejected me out of hand.
But it wouldn’t be the last.
2
Nick
“Thank you, gentlemen,” I say, shaking their hands in turn, my grip firm. Three generations of Adams’s look back at me with varying levels of hostility. I don’t add any more words. I don’t tell them that this was an affair well-done or that they’ll be pleased. I’m fairly certain they won’t be by the time my ownership of the company is finished.
Old Mr. Adams gives me a nod. “You take care of our business now, young man.”
I want to grit my teeth at the epitaph, but nod. If by taking care you mean tearing it apart and selling the pieces to the highest bidder, then yes. Sure.
They filter out of my office, having just agreed to sell their family business and life’s work. Gina is waiting by the door with a practiced smile. She’ll escort them out and go over the final paperwork, far away from the man who essentially gave them no choice in the matter.
Me.
Leaning back in the chair, I put my hands at my temples. Victory. This is victory, and it still doesn’t taste sweet enough.
It had become a drug, this. Playing the long game. Taking over companies. Buying them for a pittance.
Selling them for parts.
I flip my pen over in my grip and pull up the company’s website again. B.C. Adams. An old, respectable clothing chain, as all-American as apple pie and stuffed turkey and checkered picnic tablecloths. Just sold to me by one Pierce Adams, Pierce Adams Jr., and Bryce Adams.
This deal had been months in the making. My company had circled them since last year’s quarter reports left investors reeling. The company was floundering. At its current state, it’s only a matter of months before bankruptcy is a given.
One after one, other potential buyers were scared off by the abysmal financial results. One I had taken care of myself by spreading a false rumor about an upcoming merger and acquisition. They’d dropped out of the race right before I’d swooped in with my final offer.
The board had been all for accepting. Like rats deserting a sinking ship, they saw me for the piece of flotsam I was.
The three Adams’s? Not so much.
That’s why I’d gone to that godforsaken wedding in Oregon in the first place. Pierce Adams Jr. would be there, attending as a friend of the groom, so I needed to be there too. Show that I was a man to be trusted. That I could kiss babies and hug women. Could you grab a beer with him?
I wasn’t running for president, but it felt damn near close when I needed to have all three of the Adams’s votes. Using Blair Porter’s heavenly smile to help with that had been a stroke of brilliance.
Just the memory of her conjures up familiar feelings of frustration and anger. Blonde hair the color of wheat, curling around a heart-shaped face. Honey-brown eyes that I most often saw narrowed in annoyance.
She’d been angry to see me, a spitting kitten with her hackles raised. That was true to form. For as long as I’d known her, she’d been angry with me for one reason or another. Good.
Anger I could handle—anger I liked.
And the scolding she’d given me at the end… I can’t believe you used me for your business deal!
It almost brought a smile to my face, just remembering it. Basking in her anger felt a bit like basking in