“That a new suit?” I asked.
“Yeah.” He tugged the lapels. “A little treat I gave myself after my last promotion.”
“Well, show me you earned that VP title. What’s the verdict?”
He fanned the sheets. “This thing is hot.”
“Miami hot or hellfire and brimstone?”
“Neither.” He slapped the papers down before me and plopped down into the leather seat across. “I just mean you need to act fast. It just so happens right now that your stars are aligned in the energy market. But who knows how long it will last?”
I flipped through, looking at the neat little red marks he’d made. Trey’s gaze followed mine like some sort of military targeting laser, ready to fire on any protest I made. But I trusted him more than I could count on the sun to set in the West.
“That’s not a great pitch to make,” I said, once I was done flipping through. “My family hated this deal before they ever heard about it.”
“Sorry, man. I can’t fundamentally alter the risk. Stone Holdings has always been about oil. Now, you want to buy a solar company. There's no avoiding that. But if this goes as planned, you’ll be a major international player in the solar industry within a decade.”
“And if it doesn’t?”
“There's a tiny chance y’all might lose that third comma to your net worth.”
“Shit.”
Trey clicked his tongue. “Yeah, it’d be a true tragedy to see you have to scrape and struggle with a nine figure lifestyle.”
“I’d make do. Jesse and my mother might hire hitmen.”
He shrugged. “Just keep me out of that fight. I do not want your mom even knowing I exist.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Buddy, she’s been aware of you since the day you joined.”
“By name?”
“Oh yeah.”
“Well, shit.”
My dad had his first and last heart attack not long after I finished up at UPenn, leaving me as acting CEO. And as any smart mid-twenties guy handed an empire would do, my first move was trying to make my best buddy from college my CFO.
Trey was a great guy and a diamond even among the brainiacs at Wharton. He'd started from nothing in West Philly, and landed in college with a full ride. I figured we either scooped him now, or we might face him later.
I’ll admit, it wasn't smart on any level. It wasn’t just my family screaming. It was the rest of the executives, too. I compromised on a director level position for him. He was working his way up the ranks just fine.
“Don't worry,” I said. “Jesse's not spiteful. Whoever ends up on top, you're safe.”
“That's something, I guess.” Trey checked his watch. “What time’s your meeting?”
I blew air threw my teeth. “An hour.”
“Whiskeys after?”
“Sure, got nothing else I know of.”
Trey clapped the arms of the chair and stood up. He made it halfway to the door, then turned.
“Were you supposed to have something?” he asked.
I waved him off. “Nothing solid.”
“You are a shitty liar.”
I shrugged bashfully. “It ain't a lie. I tried to line up a date. Didn’t go as planned.”
Trey chuckled in disbelief. “What kind of girl turns down Deacon goddamn Stone?”
“I didn’t tell her who I was. We’re not that famous for her to know otherwise.”
“Kid, forget your name. Your face looks famous even without it. “
I threw up my hands. “Alright, man, enough sweet talk. We’ve been over this. I’m flattered but I don’t want you to blow me.”
Trey threw up a solid pair of middle fingers and walked out.
Kiara was still on my mind, though, as I headed over to the conference room an hour later. What girl would pass me up? She’d had fun the other night, that was for sure. Our tongues had danced even before we got to the room. Yet, a second date was too much commitment?
I could buy the work thing, but it didn't feel like the whole of the truth. Few girls I’d come across were so focused on their career, and we hired the best at Stone Holdings.
Well, it wasn’t a no. I wasn’t practiced at waiting, but I had other games to keep my attention.
I patted down my sports jacket and my chinos, then opened the tall dark heartwood door and stepped into the board room. It had been designed by my father: classical, redone with a couple modern flourishes.
A small round table sat the center of the room, no bigger than a poker table. Spot lighting shone on it from each corner. The walls were a slippery chestnut hue, and the chairs were four-legged, wooden, old-world designs.
Two were already occupied.
“Y’all can get started,” I said, grabbing a coffee from the rich arrangement laid out on the side counter.
“You called this meeting,” Jesse said.
He sat back in his chair, smoothing the creases on his three piece, charcoal suit. His green silk tie glittered in the light, and he rapped the table with manicured fingers. His light blonde hair lay smoothly combed over his regal, narrow features.
I always had to blink looking at him to remind myself that my father hadn’t risen from the grave to crap on the way I ran his company.
“Mother, you got any small items to get out of the way?” I said.
“If I had small items, I would not venture down to this steamy swamp to discuss them.”
My mother’s nose wrinkled as if we were floating down some bayou. Her silver hair sat coiffed and she wore a stern, lavender coat. It could double as evening wear at some political soiree.
No doubt she had one planned. Avoiding attending it would be the secondary goal of this meeting.
“Alright.” I chugged half the cup, sat and slid out folders to both of them. “That’s the company I plan to buy. See if the numbers suit you.”
Jesse flipped through his, growing the same wrinkle in his nose mother had. My mother didn’t even glance down.
“So how are things in North Dakota?” she asked. “Did you roll around in enough mud to understand the business?”
I clenched and unclenched my fists under the table. This already.
“Things are good. Our boys know their work. I’ve made a report to Stone Oil for various ground level improvements. It should improve efficiency a good amount.”
“And what words of wisdom did those charming men we have working the pipes share? It must have been such a delightful ride back home on commercial.”
“I learned a few useful things. They’re in the report. I’d get you a copy, but I didn’t want to trouble you.”
She gave me the gaze of an irritated tiger. My own blood was at a simmer, but I knew to keep my cool. Each of us held an equal stake in the business. According to my father's will, an acquisition the size of this solar company needed unanimous approval.
Well, at least until the day came where either me or Jesse got the majority.
My father might have hated me, but he’d still gritted his teeth and made me CEO. But he knew exactly what he was doing when he gave my mother control over a third of the company.
She didn't know a thing about the business. And yet, she still would determine which of us would end up in control - by picking who got her shares in her will.
Of course, she preferred Jesse. To her, I'd never behaved like a Stone: mingling with the lower levels, toying with the company’s traditional image, and – most of all – dating publicly out of Dallas high society.
That last one was the clincher. Sure, Jesse was always snapped coming out of clubs with a girl in each hand, but he’d never had the temerity to have a three year long run with a pharmacy student in undergrad. Or an engineer that had interned over at Oil division. The fact that the engineer was a Latina didn’t help one bit.
Perhaps it was personal. After all, it did mean rejecting the sort girl she had once been.
Either way, it didn’t bode well. My father might have given tradition and busines
s equal weight, but all my mother cared about was the Stone name.
Jesse finally looked up from the papers.
“You want to build solar plants,” he said. “In the Middle East? The place with most of the world's cheap oil?”
“The Abu Dhabi government wants to build it,” I said. “I just want to buy the company selling them the project.”
“How exactly does that make us rich?” Jesse flipped back a couple pages and pointed at a number. “It’s a small project.”
“Oh good, so you did read. Flip a page over then. This is a pilot project. If it works out, the entire damn region might be lining up to buy. We’re talking billions and billions of dollars.”
“If it works, then it might take off? I think you’re underestimating the risk.”
Jesse shot me a steely blue gaze. Strange thing was, his eyes were the one part of him that didn’t reflect our father, so it let me relax. I had nothing I needed to prove to him.
My brother was the Chief Sales Officer. Mostly, he kept our richest clients happy. An honest account of his resume would be a list of the old guys he’d gotten laid and the average bottle service bill he footed every night at “business meetings.” Still, it left him with a web of allies. I couldn’t outmaneuver him if his support outnumbered mine.
The only choice I had was to grow the company hard while I was still in charge. Wealth might be a crass and distant topic of discussion in my mother’s social circles, but she'd notice if her rich friends started thinking of me as a visionary.
Jesse might sweet talk them, but I could buy their respect. My mother would never make Jesse CEO if her friends liked me where I was.
“It's a small fraction of our wealth,” I said. “We can take a hit.”
I leaned in and ran through the numbers for Jesse till his eyes glazed over. My mother didn’t even pretend to listen, just scowled at her phone instead.
“Alright fine,” Jesse said finally. “Let’s assume it works. Think about the bigger issues. It’ll undermine our oil division completely.”
“No it won't,” I said. “We're not cutting them off.”
“Yeah, but if we buy this company, it's sending message that oil isn't our only priority anymore. That will rub a lot of our partners the wrong way.”
“Well, it’s your job to make them feel we still care. Or get them drunk enough that they forget about this.”
Jesse sighed and flipped through the papers. He was reaching, I could tell, but he wasn't done.
“What were you even doing in North Dakota, then?” he asked. “Seems like it was a complete waste of time compared to this.”
My mother scoffed. “As if that wasn’t abundantly clear without all this mess.”
Kiara’s glorious body dawned clear in my mind, dark and silky even over the bare sheets. I could whittle away a lifetime wrapped with her and not consider it a waste. Any anger left my mind.
“You know me,” I said instead. “Can’t sit still. Always gotta find somewhere to roll around.”
Jesse flipped through the sheets, still frowning, still shaking his head. But he was close to folding. And his was the only opinion that mattered. My mother always backed his choices.
“Alright,” Jesse said. “You can start the talks if you want. I want you to do full diligence on site at the company. I’m not throwing in my support until I’m certain the numbers work out.”
“Done deal.” I held out a hand.
Jesse offered a firm grip back, but the doubt in his eyes only deepened. Apparently, this pissing contest wasn’t over.
“Actually,” he said. “Consult an outside firm on this. I want to make sure we’re not biased.”
I held in my laugh. He wanted someone more than Trey backing me up. As if it was my ego driving me and not my intelligence.
“No problem,” I said.
We turned to our mother. She took a moment to look up from her phone.
“What?” she said to Jesse. “You’re ok with this?”
“I’m ok with getting a closer look.”
She shrugged and went right back to her screen. “Then do whatever.”
“You approve the motion?” I said.
“I approve the damn motion. OK?”
“Yes, ma’am.” I popped out of my seat, clapped Jesse on the shoulder and went for the door.
“Deacon.” My mother’s voice rose.
Shit.
“Yes?” I said.
“I need you at the fundraiser this evening. There's going to be a candidate for governor there that we might support. He’s looking to meet the current CEO of Stone Holdings.”
Current CEO. My blood boiled.
“I really need to get started on the paperwork for this. It’ll be morning in a few hours in Abu Dhabi.”
“Then you should have plenty of time. I’m sure my friends won’t be wanting your charms for more than thirty minutes.”
Politicians - another group of useless people. Still, until I had control of this company, I’d have to be ok with a little irritant here and there.
“Fine. I’ll be counting the minutes though.”
My mother rapped the table. I knew exactly what was coming. “And after that, there is a rather lovely young woman who is keen on meeting you.”
“I’m not interested in dating at the moment. Give her to Jesse.”
“My plate’s full,” Jesse said.
Mother scowled at me. “She’s the daughter of Roland Tarly, the candidate for governor. It would be a major advantage to have a direct line to the governor, don’t you think? You’re always the one looking for ways to improve the business.”
It was a nice try, but she was thinking about our family name more than anything. “That’s not exactly the strategy I had in mind.”
Her eyes flashed. “I am asking you to talk to her for an evening. Somehow she has managed to avoid hearing about the filth on your fingers. There’s precious few left like that these days.”
“Listen, I'll come to your shindig, but it ends there. Thanks for the offer though.”
I strode out before another word could reach me.
The sky had turned hues of red by the time I reached my office, but my mood had settled. I’d gotten as much as I could expect. Of course, I’d done exhaustive analysis before presenting that deal, but doing it again on-site wouldn’t be a problem.
I clapped my hands and reached for the phone. Trey and I were going to get plastered before we hit that damn geriatric gala. No rules against that.
But first things first. Time to find an outside firm who could get Jesse off my ass.
I buzzed Demetri.
“Yes, sir?” he said.
“Get me a finance consulting firm,” I said. “I need an international team put together fast.”
“Which company?”
“I don’t care. The one with the hottest analysts.”
“Uh…which one is that?”
“Why do I pay you if you don’t know this sort of thing?”
He tapped furiously on his keyboard. I chuckled. The kid was so serious. I couldn’t fault him given who I was and who he was, but he should know my humor by now.
Besides, consultants weren't usually that hot. The only exception that came to mind...
The hairs rose on my arm.
“You know what?” I said. “Forget it.”
I knew just who I was going to show Jesse. And I knew just how to get face time with a sexy workaholic.
Boy did I love hitting two birds with a single stone.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Kiara
“I said hands in the air,” the man screamed at me. We stood in the middle of a concrete warehouse floor.
I didn't know this guy, but he was white, with dark hair and a leather jacket. His gun stared at me with its one wicked eye. It looked so real up close, pitch black and intimidating.
You could barely tell it was a prop for improv.
Good, it helped me stay in the moment. That’s what this
was about - not dwelling on the past, not thinking, just reacting. The stress set me free.
Very slowly, I raised my arms. “I didn't see nothin’,” I said, my lips trembling on their own.
“Maybe, but you picked the wrong time to walk into this store.“ He stared at me, froth almost on his lips. “Now get on the ground.”
“Can I put my hands down first?”
Someone chuckled behind me, but the gunman glared at them. “Get down, hands up.”
“Now, son,” the fat store owner said to side of us. “That's physically impossible. She’s at least going to scrape her knees.”
“Scraped knees?” I said, looking panicked at the jean cutoffs I was wearing. “I'm a knee model!”
More laughs came from behind me. Weak, but warmer. I could do better.
I turns out I couldn’t.
The skit ended with me taking out the ‘criminial,’ striking a superhero pose and saying, “Just call me evil’s worst kneetmare.”
The groan that poured through the crowd could have stirred up a hurricane. Good thing we were in a converted warehouse.
Antoine covered his eyes as I went and sat cross-legged next to him. The cement floor sat frosty against my damp legs. My t-shirt clung to my skin and I tufted it to send air through.
“How could you end on that?” he asked. “I can't even be seen with you.”
“Sticking your head in the ground doesn't make me go away.”
He shuffled away until he ran into the shoulder of the guy next to him. The guy looked over from watching the new trio who'd just gone up, but he got no apology. To be fair, Antoine weighed little more than a wet popsicle stick and his skin was roughly the same color as one.
“I'm proud of myself,” I said, holding my head up high.
“Were you planning it all along?” he said, eyes still ducked from me.
“No, it was perfect improv.”
“By some definition of perfection.”
The other guys were doing some sort of celebrity sketch. I tapped the side of my foot and tried to concentrate. Going into improv hoping to get non-stop laughs was probably a waste of money, but the craft was so useful on its own.
Deacon: A BWWM Billionaire Romance Page 5
