by Holly Jaymes
I had big dreams for it. I dreamed that I would invest money in it and bring it up to the standard of a modern European style cafe, in an idyllic countryside setting. Even now, in bed at night, I would think up all the menu ideas I had for it.
But slowly, that dream was beginning to diminish, because I hadn’t even come close to saving as much money as I needed to renovate the place. It hadn’t been looked after for years, and it would require a lot of repairs plus marketing and hiring staff. I didn’t have that kind of money, not even the down-payment for a loan I would need.
The more time that went by, the more I was beginning to accept the fact that it wasn’t going to happen. By the time I might be able to save the money needed, it would be too late. The place could be unsalvageable by then. But my heart was set on it, and I thought I would never truly be happy unless I acquired it.
“Cohen!” Chef’s voice snapped me out of my thoughts again.
“What are you doing standing there? This isn’t the cinema!” he growled.
There was no use reminding him that he was the one who’d given me a time-out.
Putting my hair-net back on, I rushed to the counter again and snatched up the next order. I was determined to prove myself to him this time. There would come a time, hopefully soon, when Chef Morris might actually look at a plate and give me a nod of approval.
For now, that was the dream I was working towards, and even that seemed too far out of my reach.
Chapter 2 Preview of Daddy CEO
Chapter 2 Daddy CEO
Cliff
Michael Baynard picked Privy as his restaurant of choice for our meeting. To be honest, I didn’t even really want to meet with him. I wasn’t interested in a merger, but he wanted to meet with me again to try and convince me to change my mind.
Privy was a new place, one of those restaurants in Boston that were hard to get a table at. Michael booked us in, and I wondered if he was hoping that would impress me.
These high-browed stuffy places weren’t exactly my style, but I went along with it. What was the worst that could happen from sharing a meal with him?
As usual, Michael was flamboyant and wouldn’t stop talking.
“I’m sure you haven’t given it enough thought,” Michael said, looking over the menu. He was talking about the fact that I’d said no to his idea for a merger again. He was wrong because I had thought about it a lot.
“That’s not what it is, Michael,” I told him, trying to select something I would like to eat. Nothing on the menu seemed to appeal to me. It all appeared to be a little too creative and out-there. I would have preferred a bowl of steaming hot ramen or mac-and-cheese any day. Good hearty, fulfilling food.
I looked at the wine list instead. That was definitely something I could do.
“Then what is it? What is the reason?” Michael asked.
He seemed to be coming on too strong this time. He was losing his patience.
“I’m not interested in a merger, Michael. It’s as simple as that,” I told him.
Michael and I had been running rival investment firms for the past few years since I joined the market. The problem for him was that he’d been monopolizing the industry in Boston for several years. He was a lot older than me.
When I started my investment firm from scratch, everyone in the industry thought I was a kid who was trying to play with the big guys. It was true. I had minimal experience in the sector.
All I really had going for myself was the money I’d inherited from my grandfather and my business school degree. That was it.
But what I did have along with the above was a knack in sniffing out small businesses and good ideas. In the past six years that I’d been trying to make my firm grow, I’d managed to make sound investment decisions and had grown the company exponentially.
Now, that I was sitting on several million dollars, and that number was growing every month, people like Michael Baynard were shitting their pants. They finally had to admit that I wasn’t just a fresh-faced young child, but someone they would have to contend with.
This merger was Michael’s idea to get a piece of the cake I was serving.
“Do you know how much capital I could add to your portfolio?” he asked after we’d placed our orders with the waiter.
I squared my shoulders, sighing deeply.
“Yes, Michael. I have a pretty good idea,” I replied.
Adding Michael’s firm to mine, gaining more capital, would have seemed like a good idea. In fact, it would have been an excellent idea for growing the firm. Maybe the best business decision I could have made.
At the same time, it would also mean that I couldn’t make investment decisions alone. Michael Baynard would be on my board, and he’d have a vote and a say in every investment I wanted to make.
I didn’t play like them, like the big boys.
I didn’t just invest in safe, successful businesses. I preferred giving my money to small companies or individuals who had a great idea. I liked to work closely with these people, giving them more than just my money, but my business expertise, my time and my ideas. I wanted to watch these small businesses grow, and give back to the community. It was what my grandfather would have wanted me to do with his money, and I had no intention of letting him down.
Our food arrived, and Michael didn’t miss a breath. He continued to try and convince me, and I continued to shoot him down. I could see him beginning to lose his temper. He seemed like the kind of man who wasn’t accustomed to being turned down.
“Dammit, Cliff!” he banged his fist on the table at one point.
His lack of patience with me was actually making me smile. I liked watching these big guys squirm in their seats, and do everything short of getting down on their knees and beg me to let them join me.
“You need to calm down, Michael,” I told him, still smiling.
“This funny to you?” he growled, and I shrugged my shoulders.
“A few months ago, you wanted to eat me alive. You were competing with me. Now you want to merge. You have to admit there is some humor in that,” I told him.
From the sour look on his face, I could sense he still didn’t get the joke.
He cut himself a piece of the lamb on his plate, swept it in the mint sauce and then plopped it in his mouth.
“This is unacceptable!” he growled, and before I knew what he was talking about, he clicked his fingers in the air, trying to get the attention of the waiters.
“What are you doing, Michael?” I asked him. He glared at me.
“Sending this filth back!” he hissed, pointing at the lamb on his plate.
My food seemed fine to me, and I had no idea why he was reacting so violently to his. I had a theory that he was, in reality, furious with me, but was taking his anger out on the food and the restaurant.
When a waiter appeared at our side, looking meek and apologetic, Michael started growling immediately.
“I want to speak to the chef. What the Hell is this? I’m paying good money for this!”
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About Holly Jaymes
All of Holly's romances involve passionate, alpha males who don't shy away from demonstrating just how they feel about their sassy heroines. Because, let's face it, those are the best kinds of book-boyfriends to have.
Expect swoon worthy romance, juicy drama, lip-biting scenes and satisfying happily ever afters that will have you flipping the pages way past your bed time.
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