by Lara Swann
As he should be.
Maybe at first, all the dirt flying around was useful for him, but now…he’s right. It’s made a heavy impact on the business - and on him, too. The share price he was so keen for us to launch has plummeted. Our investors are unhappy. Our partners are pulling out of trade deals. Everyone is wary of doing business with us. And, most of all, the money he’s been so fixated on this whole time…that’s vanishing as the value of the company does.
Sure, he pushed our shareholders to the point they were ready to kick me out - forced my hand to sign this agreement to sell my shares in the company - and maneuvered himself into a far better position than mine.
But even now, he’s questioning his choice. He’s questioning starting this game in the first place. He’s trading one partner - albeit someone he thinks is weak and incapable - for a group that has shown every intention of taking over the company. All this has done for him is sacrifice his own position for the sake of kicking me out.
How he intends to recover from that, I’m not sure.
But I know why he’s resorted to such a dire option. The way things have gone have left him no choice.
If he doesn’t - he might end up with nothing. The money he’s making from selling a good portion of his shares is guaranteed, at least, and a fucking good deal.
With him, these power plays have always been a game of chicken - how much either of us were willing to sink the company, to get one up on the other.
He always blinked first.
That hasn’t changed.
Because for me, it was always about the company - I didn’t care if I lost everything else, I’d fight for that.
With him - it’s about the money.
And the thing with money, is it’s incredibly fickle. Easy to make - but even easier to lose.
“Alistair…” He says again, as I take my time with the document. “It will be a new start - for all of us. It’s for the best.”
I look up. Sigh deeply. And nod.
“I guess it is.”
Then, with one last flourish, I sign away my rights to my shares at Sinclair & Barkley - and walk out of the room.
* * *
A few days later, I walk back down the hallway I helped design. Past the Sinclair & Barkley signage that’s being removed. And towards the executive board room that always sent a thrill through me.
My back is straight, my eyes are sparkling, and life seems good.
A new start.
The moment Barkley sees me approaching through the floor-to-ceiling glass walls of the room, he sits bolt upright in his chair - then jumps up and comes out to meet me.
“Alistair!” He gives a too-friendly smile. “It’s…err, I wasn’t expecting to see you back here. But, well, I’m afraid it’s not a good time. We’re just gathering to meet the Taylor Trust’s representative, and…can we catch up another time?”
And he doesn’t want me embarrassing him.
I return his smile, and then walk past without saying a word.
He follows me, blustering a little, while I survey the room with a glance.
Half the seats are empty, but everyone I expect to be here is sitting around it. All the other shareholders are bought out already.
“Barkley, can you get the door?” I ask.
He stares at me. So does everyone else.
I give them all an easy smile, and guess that no one is actually going to get the door for me.
Ah well, open door then.
“I’m here on behalf of the Taylor Trust - a private trust I founded.”
The staring continues, and Barkley sinks down onto his seat with a loud ‘thump’. I ignore him.
“You might be wondering why only half our usual members are here today - like you, they’ve been approached by Taylor, but instead of the portions of shares you’ve sold, they agreed to sell all their holdings of Sinclair & Barkley. This, combined with the sale and transfer of my own shares and half of Barkley’s, puts Taylor - or, me - at enough shares for full control of the company. I called this meeting to inform you of my intention to take Sinclair & Barkley back into private ownership. The forms I’m circulating are an agreement to sell your shares for the value you bought them for, plus five percent. A reasonable return for any investor - and much higher than the current market value.”
I glance toward the door, and right on cue - Meredith saunters through. She distributes the forms with her usual efficiency, helped by the deathly stillness throughout the room.
“This is a one time only offer.” I add, firmly. “A chance to get back what you put in and no longer have to worry about a floundering firm on your investment books. If you don’t take it, there is no guarantee Sinclair & Barkley will ever return to the values you bought it for—”
“Aren’t you going to turn it around?” Barkley interrupts, incredulous. “You called this meeting to tell us you’re not capable of turning it around?”
I smile slowly, feeling the coolness in the gesture. “I’m perfectly capable of turning it around. But if it’s not under private ownership, I’m not willing to - and it will be left to sink.”
He doesn’t believe me. I can tell. Or, he really doesn’t want to.
“But…you’ll lose billions…everything. If you really are Taylor, you paid a fortune for this company. If…you let it die…”
“I lose it all.” I nod, meeting his eyes.
We lock gazes for a long moment, and I can see him weighing me, trying to work it out. I mean every word I’m saying, but for a guy like him…it’s almost impossible to believe.
He looks away first.
And I know I’ve got him.
I turn back to the rest of the room, and raise an eyebrow.
Barkley interrupts again.
“I’ve still got enough shares for some control, Alistair. I can turn it around.” His gaze roams over everyone else in the room. “If you support me, if you don’t sell…let him disappear, let him stop caring. We’ll fix the business ourselves. And when the time comes, buy him out.”
It’s a ridiculous idea. With absolutely no appeal for any of the guys around the room. Trying to control a business with a disparate group of minority shares…
But I play my last card anyway. The same one that convinced all the people not sitting in this room anymore to sell all their shares. I think I was just looking for an excuse to anyway.
“Maybe.” I say with a shrug, meeting their gazes in turn. “But if you do - let me give you an idea of the kind of business you’ll be left with. It should be no surprise to you to hear that Barkley and I have…well, we’ve not been agreeing, as of late. But do you really want your money in a business where the two major partners are willing to run it into the ground because of their infighting?”
That does get a reaction, finally - a murmuring. And Barkley is looking at me as if I’m both stupid - and delusional. It’s not great business practice to advertise your unfitness as a director, but in this case…it could get me exactly what I want.
And, with this particular point - it’s not my unfitness that I’m trying to draw attention to.
I take my phone out, and play the recording - which comes out over the high-end speakers set out all over the room, in crystal clear sound quality.
Good enough, that as soon as they hear his voice, every head turns to him as if he’d started speaking. But he hasn’t.
And the moment he hears it, his eyes practically bug out of his head.
He jumps up.
“Alistair! Fuck, that’s…”
Going to wreck his business reputation in this city.
I know. But since I’ve already shown it to enough people that reputation is already wrecked, regardless of what happens here.
“Totally inappropriate?” I ask lightly, then glance around at everyone else. “Yes…I’d say it was.”
I meet his gaze again, stony eyes meeting wild panic. And I give just a little hint of a smile.
The recording plays through, and by th
e end of it, he’s slumped back down in his seat, hand over his eyes.
“One time offer.” I repeat, and then I finally sit down.
There’s a moment where no one moves - but then the murmuring starts. I try to tune it out, but I know what they’re saying anyway. I know what they’re talking about.
The guy who would pay for dirt on his own company, to get an advantage over his partner.
Not to mention attempting to bribe said partner’s girlfriend…
The first person picks up a pen, skims through the document to the end. And signs.
And then the rest of them fall like dominoes.
Barkley is last - late enough that everyone else has filed out of the room, and it’s just me stood in front of him.
“It’s for the best, Barkley.” I repeat. “Take the money - that’s what you always wanted anyway. Leave me the business, and go make your fortune somewhere else.”
“I worked for years on this company. These contacts. This city.” He mutters bitterly.
“As did I.” I say softly. “As did I.”
He glares at me, but he doesn’t have a choice. And we both know it.
After another few moments - he picks up the pen. Signs.
And stalks out of the room.
I’m left in my empty, now too-big board room. All alone.
With my private company. The one I now own 100%.
I enjoy it for a few, satisfying minutes.
And then I realize that the last thing I want to do is relish it alone.
I head straight back to Leah and Maddie - after all this work, I deserve a day off. Turning Sinclair & Barkley around can wait until tomorrow.
As soon as I walk in the door, Leah turns towards me - and the expectant hope in her eyes making me smile.
She never doubted me - not for one moment.
“Well?” She asks, her voice light with pleasure as she walks over to me.
It must be obvious from my face, but I grin and kiss her anyway - the kind of long, drawn out kiss I’ve been wanting to give her for the last couple of weeks. The kind we haven’t had nearly enough time for.
And now that Barkley is gone, we really will get what he kept telling me I should have - more time with my family.
“I lost $100 million dollars today.” I say, smiling triumphantly.
“Oh. Does that mean we’re poor now?” She tilts her head at me, not seeming the slightest bit concerned about that idea.
I just laugh. “Not even close. Is that what you were hoping for?”
“Oh, I don’t know. I’ve been convinced recently that maybe your fortune is useful. Just a little. But if you lost it…I think I’d manage. Somehow. What I want is you.”
I kiss her again, passion overtaking everything else, and it feels like it’s been forever since we really got to enjoy each other. It’s some consolation that I’m going to get that for the rest of my life, but I still regret all the time the last few weeks that I couldn’t spend driving her crazy under me.
“You’ve got me, Leah. All of me. And I’ve spent these last few weeks dreaming of our future together - rich or poor, wherever we are, whatever happens to us. You’ll have me - always.”
She smiles, her gaze turning mischievous as she leans into my body, arms hooking casually around my hips.
“You know, that sounded suspiciously like wedding vows.”
I match her smile, my heart fluttering as I look down at her.
And this time, she mentioned it.
“It did, didn’t it?”
Epilogue
Leah
“We’re going to be late!”
Emma calls from the front of the large, four-by-four truck, turning around to look at us.
“Being late is fashionable.” Mathilda chips in, trying to keep Maddie from ruining my dress with her fascination for the elegant white lace design.
“Not this late.” Emma shakes her head.
“How can there be traffic? There are only a handful of people on the island!” I ask, incredulous.
My heart rate is already through the roof. I’ve been dreaming of this day for over a year now - it’s what I’ve wanted from the moment I kissed Alistair again, even if it took a long time to admit that to myself.
I wanted to be a family. A wife. I wanted to have the husband that should go with the kid that came along years before.
But, fantasies and dreams come true or not - I still feel a little bit sick. Nerves bundle in my stomach, and I can’t hide the way my hands seem to be shaking.
From exhilaration - but also that slight fear. That anticipation and anxious need.
Having all your dreams come true can be damn scary sometimes.
But after this long with Alistair, I’ve pretty much banished the ‘what ifs’. I trust him - more than I trust myself sometimes - and I don’t doubt his love in the slightest.
And if we have that…what more can I really ask for?
“It’s a bunch of sheep - and, I think, some goats.” Emma informs us. “I think they’re crossing. But, y’know, not too fast.”
I groan.
“I would call ahead and let them know we’re going to be late…but this place doesn’t have phone reception either.” Mathilda chips in helpfully.
I give them both a exasperated look. “Do you both have to make it so obvious that you think this is a stupid idea?”
I insisted on a wedding where no one would know us - and Alistair couldn’t throw his wealth around to make things happen. I wanted it to be more authentic. Something special - and real. With only the people we cared about the most.
He came up with the most gorgeous, breathtaking island - the sort of place that no one even knows exist - and I fell in love immediately.
“We don’t think it’s stupid…” Emma starts.
“Or, at least, Alistair did pretty well with a ridiculous request.” Mathilda adds.
“I’m regretting ever introducing you two to each other.” I mutter. “Aren’t you supposed to be nice to the bride? Keep her calm? That sort of thing?”
They exchange a glance.
“We are being nice - and we’re distracting you with our clever remarks and witty banter, so that you don’t notice you’re going to miss your wedding, hun.” Emma says comfortingly.
I want to glare in her direction, but I start laughing instead.
It didn’t take long after they met for Mathilda to take the spare room in Emma’s flat - not after she decided to take Alistair up on his offer and stick around, anyway. And she’s done everything she said she would with that opportunity, showing the kind of determination that leaves me with no doubt that she’ll finally get everything she wants.
And since they’ve been living together…the way the two of them have hit it off has almost been eerie at times. Almost to the point that they can finish each others’ sentences now. Something they use to gang up on me half the time.
“Okay. Well.” I say, turning back to the issue at hand. “We’re perfectly capable - it’s not a problem. Anyone think they could encourage the animals to move a little faster?”
“In these dresses?” Mathilda asks, smoothing the flattering pastel blue I chose for them both.
“Yeah, I’ll be honest, those goats look kind of scary.” Emma, always a city girl, gives me a distressed glance.
“Well…maybe the driver knows a better route.” I suggest, feeling like I’m doing more than my fair share of the work here.
“He doesn’t speak English.” Emma points out helpfully. “And I think there’s only one road.”
I reach forward and nudge her. “Well, try. Point to your watch and make exaggerated gestures.”
She laughs at me, but then she does exactly that - and Mathilda and I have to control ourselves not to burst into giggles of our own.
It seems to work, though, and the four-wheel-drive turns to rattle off the road - and plunges forward, into what I would’ve called a ditch.
We all scream, and I swear this is g
oing to be the end of me - but it comes out the other side as if nothing happened. I look around, see that we’re all still alive, and think that there’s a chance my heart might return to my chest.
Then the damned vehicle does it again.
This time, Mathilda laughs. “Yet another amazing idea from Leah.”
She and Maddie seem to be the only ones enjoying this, as a combination of fear and nausea seems to assault Emma and I and the conversation subsides in favor of clinging onto each other and hoping we make it through this alive.
Maybe being late wouldn’t have been so bad…
I keep waiting for us to rejoin the road, before I realize the driver has no intention of doing so - but after a while, the bumping and diving feels like it might have settled into a rhythm, and I try to tell myself we will make it.
Then the car tilts almost vertically - and I remember that we picked a cliff-top location for the wedding. For the amazing views, of course.
Fuck.
We make it up. But I don’t think any of us were sure about that for quite a while there.
At least by the time we get to the top of the cliff, I think all my nerves about the wedding have disappeared. Fearing for your life seems to put things in perspective that way.
When we all desperately spill out of the car, we’re a little disheveled - but we’re not late. I was right about that, at least.
We gather ourselves together, and Emma and Mathilda both take Maddie’s hands as they prepare to walk behind me to the entrance to our open-air ceremony.
I can’t see anything yet, but I know it’s just up this path, and then curves to the left. Just out of sight - enough to make an entrance, but not enough to be inconvenient.
“Mommy.” Maddie says, and I twist around to smile at her, cupping her cheek.
She’s grown a surprising amount in the last year - and Alistair has obviously been a good influence on her. She’s a happier, healthier and more normal little girl than she was before.
“I like flowers in my hair.” She smiles up at me, and I grin back.
“They’re beautiful, baby girl.”
“You’re beautiful too, Mommy.” Then she rushes forward to hug me tight.
