can explain. Shit, that sounds so lame. Please, let’s go sit down, and I’ll tell you everything.”
“You can tell your father he’s never going to get his hands on my distillery,” Emerson said, her voice laced with anger.
“I already did. That’s what I was doing when you called me. It’s the reason I couldn’t answer the phone. Please, this will all make so much more sense when you know all the details, I promise.”
Emerson eyed him cautiously. “Fine. You have ten minutes.”
Ten minutes he could work with. His negotiation skills had never let him down. Surely, they wouldn’t fail him now. He reached out to take her hand, but she brushed by him as she made her way to the living room. As he followed her, he admired her response, even more so when she sat on the chair, rather than the sofa.
“Yes, my father wants to buy the distillery, but his interest in acquiring it is a recent thing. This all goes back a really long time, and for reasons I’ve never been able to find even a modicum of evidence for, he believes Dyer’s was his and was taken away from him. He’s always thought your father took everything that was important away from him. I’ve grown up on stories about how your father screwed him over.”
Emerson leaned forward in her chair. For a moment, she looked as though she were about to say something. Instead, she sighed and leaned back again.
He ran his palms down his jeans. For some reason, he felt as though he were about to give the pitch of his life. The consequences of not sealing this deal with Emerson were greater than he could allow himself to consider. “Anyway, literally the week we met on the plane, I’d been pushing my father to acquire distilleries. The industry is changing to artisanal, to quote you, ‘quality over quantity.’ I felt it would be best for our business if we vertically integrated to own and develop some artisanal distillers of our own.”
“Was Dyer’s in contention then?” Emerson asked.
Connor ran his hand along his jaw. “Here’s the thing…it was, because of me. I wanted it. You make great products and need investment. But I knew there was no point in pushing it because Dad would never agree to it. He said he didn’t want to put another penny in Paul Dyer’s pocket.”
Emerson squinted slightly, something she did when she was thinking, he’d noticed. “So, when did we end up as the main target? After you got to know me? When you’d found out about what was going on with the loan, you thought we’d be willing to sell out at some rock-bottom price?”
“No,” he said, quickly. “Look, I know this looks bad, but that isn’t it at all. Not on my end, anyway. I got on that plane, and there you were. And you were so right. I was being obnoxious. I didn’t know who you were until the flight attendant mentioned your name. My head was in my ass, and you saw that. I was intrigued, Em. By this woman who ran the company that seemed to have so much sway over my father.”
“Curiosity killed the cat,” she said with a huff.
“Touché. But then I got to sit next to you that night. And I got to learn more about you. More than that, I liked you. This woman who should, by all accounts, be my mortal enemy. And yes, to be transparent, I was still on the fence as to whether acquiring you would be a good move. I left the ballroom because my father was furious that you’d won a medal.”
Emerson tapped her fingers on the chair. “So, how does he go from not wanting to hear anything about Dyer’s to us appearing in this?” she said, waving the document at him.
Connor took a deep breath. If he were honest with Emerson, she could use the information to cause trouble at the bank. But if he weren’t, then she’d never have reason to trust him ever again. “It was a couple of days after you’d first stayed over at my place. I thought I could talk him out of it. Look. Look at the numbers, Em. They are all lowballed. I thought I could distract him. Smoke and mirrors. Make other candidates look better. But then a week later, he wouldn’t let it go because someone at the bank told my uncle that they were about to call in the loan.”
Emerson stood. “Isn’t