Gone with the Wolf - By Kristin Miller Page 0,24
out of it. He claimed to own the building free and clear, and had the deed to prove it, so why not? I paid him cash, and he handed me my deed. I thought I owned the place…until you sent me a notice claiming to have bought the entire building.”
Emelia’s accusations rang loud and clear. She believed that Drake had destroyed everything she’d worked for, everything she’d put her heart into. He remembered how she’d been in the bar—assertive and confident, proud that the place was built on her sweat and tears. She’d taken something that was sheer business and had made it personal. No wonder she hated him.
“We’re going to get a couple things straight.” Drake watched her cheeks redden, and waited for steam to seep from her ears, but the train raced on. “Wilder Financial sent you the notice of purchase, not me. The board holds a meeting, we look at groups of property that are worth more than the sale price, I approve or deny the project, and it goes through. We donate certain properties to the city and rebuild others. We go through banks. We check county records. Everything we do is by the book, all the time. If the scheme between you and Tattoo Parlor Guy didn’t pan out, that has little to do with me or Wilder Financial.”
“You ass.” She stood with the spirit of a fighter—a short, spunky, blue-eyed featherweight who’d pull a muscle before she hurt someone.
If Drake wasn’t drawn so tight, he might’ve laughed at the contrast between the softness of Emelia’s appearance and the feisty show she put on. If she were a wolf, Drake thought, she’d be petite, with lean muscles and a sleek stride. A young wolf who thought she could snarl and growl and raise the fur on the back of her neck to frighten away packmates, even though they could take her down with the strike of a paw.
“You are Wilder Financial,” she roared, standing up on tiptoe to better see him eye to eye. “The building has your name on it, for fuck’s sake!”
Drake watched her chest heave, and nearly tasted the breath pushing past her lips. Biting back a hiss, Drake’s feet lurched forward of their own accord. He stopped himself before he crashed into her. She eyed his lips with dark hunger, and for a sliver of a moment, Drake thought she was going to kiss him.
“Just because Wilder Financial has the deed doesn’t mean I bought your bar,” Drake forced out in a single, tight breath. “It means my corporation bought it.”
He could give it back to her. The thought streamed through his head like a jetliner, and was gone as quickly as it had come. The entire area was in an economic downward spiral. If he gave the bar back to her, it wouldn’t be long before the Knight Owl went bankrupt along with the rest of the small businesses in the area. At least if Wilder’s City Beautification team got their teeth into it, there could be a chance to bring more business to the area, and to her bar.
Looking at the numbers—which is what Drake did best—there was only one way Emelia’s bar was going to survive. Wilder Financial had to keep ownership of it.
“You are an expert at dodging things, aren’t you?” Emelia fired. “You dodge e-mails, phone calls, and probably relationships, too, which would explain why you were in the cellar the night of the party instead of upstairs with everyone else. It doesn’t matter anyway, because you didn’t buy shit, not really.”
“If you leave it alone, and let my company keep ownership, I think you’ll find it’ll help business. We have the backing to improve the building and the surrounding area. We could build the Knight Owl into twenty Knight Owls spread across the city. It could be better for everyone this way.”
“You’ve never sweated and slaved for a piece of something that everyone else saw as worthless, have you? It’s not about making buckets of cash or making the Knight Owl into a chain, it’s about having something that’s mine, something I clawed for, tooth and nail.”
Damn, he admired her tenacity, but she wasn’t getting it. Given the circumstances, the best option was for Wilder Financial to hold the deed. It was the better move, even if she didn’t think it.
“I think you have to sue Tattoo Parlor Guy to get your money back.” Drake could smell the sugar from Emelia’s morning coffee on her