“I don’t think my vague encouragement was very comforting to him,” Audrey admitted. “He’s still a wound-up ball of anxiety about the offer Patterson has out on Pace.”
“Well, he won’t have to worry much longer.” I swung my legs over the bed and stood. Already, my mind was swimming with what I should wear, how I should stand when I broke the news, how I should prepare for the inevitable backlash. The more I could mentally prepare myself, the better. “I’m going to inform the board today that we’re pulling the offer.”
Audrey looked a little concerned, but I saw the tension melt out of her shoulders. Good. I realized that she had begun to mean so much to me that her happiness and the happiness of her family was enough to keep me from making an otherwise sound business move, our earlier promises aside. That could be dangerous in the future, but, for now, I didn’t care. Audrey mattered most in this situation, and the well-being of the company could exist alongside hers, I was sure of it.
“Thank you,” she said. “For keeping your promise.”
“I always do.”
I crossed over and kissed her. Audrey gave me a sweet smile, and I caressed her tits until her rose-pink nipples popped out nice and stiff, eager to be sucked. I continued to plug and twist them, enjoying hearing her moans grow louder. She knew that I was about to leave her here, with her legs spread, her pussy slick and slippery with desire, desperate to feel my cock inside her.
I would fuck her brains out tonight, not now.
I savored the petal-soft touch of her lips one more time before tearing myself away to go shower. “But don’t thank me yet. I’ve never known the board to give in without a fight.”
I sat in the town car, watching the buildings glide by as we drove toward the office. Not even morning sex with Audrey could take my mind off the board meeting I had to face in less than an hour.
I had to explain to them how large sums of money had been disappearing from right under my nose. I had to answer the inevitable questions about the investigators who had arrived and shaken things up during office hours less than a week ago. And, of course, I had to announce the withdrawal of our bid for Pace Marketing. I didn’t see how any of those things could go over well, but I didn’t get to where I had gotten in life without being willing to be the bearer of bad news without breaking a sweat.
The board would learn to live with my explanations and decisions. They had to.
I liked to arrive at meetings precisely on time. Arrive too early, and you looked overeager. Arrive even a minute late, and you looked unorganized. So, at exactly nine o’clock, I stepped into the conference room of Patterson Advertising that was reserved for board meetings, to face the seven board members and several senior executives, dressed in expensive suits and dresses and sharply cut blazers. Showtime.
I didn’t speak first, of course. That privilege went to the board secretary, a sharp, serious woman named Celia. I admired her ability to have a commanding presence at only five foot two. She opened with announcements and a rundown of the agenda before handing the floor over to me to discuss financials.
Although I could have deferred that duty to one of my officers in the financial department, I knew I needed to take direct responsibility—as I always did—for the numbers. I rose from my chair and pressed my hands on the conference table, leaning forward slightly. Celia clicked on the projector, and a spreadsheet of the last quarter’s revenue came into focus. I covered the relevant data, mentioning the discrepancies because I had to—the numbers were right there, after all—but I did my best to gloss over it and stress that it was part of a normal margin of fluctuation.
Still, I heard the low murmur of concern that rippled through the room, and I intercepted a couple of worried glances. People noticed. They would need an explanation. Soon. Devon, as always seated to my left, looked up at me inquiringly.
“I realize the discrepancy is concerning,” I said, “but we have the best people on our team looking into it.”
“Concerning?” came the voice of Dominic Sterling, and I tried not to groan aloud. Sterling, a pudgy, balding man whose smugness could only be rivaled by that of Patrick Mercer, had never liked me, and he took any chance he could to undermine me. “I’d say it’s a little more than that. From where I’m sitting, it looks like a lot of money is just … gone. Vanished. Or pocketed, maybe.”
Other people around the table nodded to themselves, sharing disapproving glances.
I tightened my jaw. “That’s our concern. That’s why we’re looking into it.”
“You’re not the only people looking into it, I hear,” Annamaria Kane said in her crisp, clear alto. Ms. Kane was an older woman, still strikingly beautiful in her sixties, and in possession of more startup capital than any one person had the right to. She liked to take an active hand in the businesses she invested in and, while I had been grateful for that oversight when the company was first getting off the ground, it had become increasingly stifling in recent years. “I’ve been told there were investigators here this week asking questions and rifling through papers. As I understand it, they were here to talk to you, Aaron. Is there something going on here the board should be concerned about?”
A half a dozen wary faces turned toward me, waiting for my answer. I suspected they had been discussing these very concerns amongst themselves moments before I walked through the door. They may have even agreed that Ms. Kane, as the most senior member, should be the one to bring it up to me.
I shook my head decisively. “No. Not at all. A sum went missing. We’re going to find it and properly allocate it. I appreciate the investigators doing their job, but their services aren’t required here. This is an internal issue, and I’m sure nothing criminal has happened.”
Ms. Kane cleared her throat in a way that told me she didn’t believe me. Had everyone already decided to turn against me before I’d even arrived?
“I was speaking with the investigators,” I continued, “because I, as always, take full responsibility for the actions and legal standing of my company.”
“Were you answering their questions—or were you being questioned?” she asked coolly.
I knew what she was getting at, but I still forced a smile. “The former. Of course.”
“Of course,” she repeated, voice chilly.
She leaned back into her chair, and I could see that our conversation was over, but the hard-set line of her mouth told me I had not convinced her, either of my competency or of my innocence. She put an enormous amount of emphasis on ethical business dealings in the companies she chose to invest in, and I realized that if she believed I was embezzling money, she would pull her funding. So would most of the other shareholders who admired her and followed her lead. They would leave me with a faltering company, bleeding profit from the margins while the police circled like vultures, waiting for me to make one wrong move. I couldn’t let that happen.
“One more order of business before we move on,” I said, hoping to steer the conversation into more productive waters. “As of today, Patterson is rescinding its offer to purchase Pace Marketing.”
I hadn’t anticipated smooth sailing, but the uproar was more than I expected. A cacophony of voices sounded their disagreement all at once. Ms. Kane just shook her head, but, somehow, that was even worse.
“The last time I checked,” I shouted over them, “I still had the authority to make these kinds of decisions. Thus far, I’ve been the point person for every single one of our mergers and acquisitions, and I don’t recall leading any of you astray.”
“But we’ve been angling for Pace for years!” Sterling exclaimed. The vein in his forehead looked like it was going to burst.
“Plans change.”
“Maybe so, but you didn’t consult us about changing these plans,” Carter Westwood, a graying man who split his time between New York and his Miami timeshare, objected.
“I didn’t require the expertise of the board. At any rate, it’s already done.”
“What on earth pos
sessed you to pull the offer?” Ms. Kane asked.
I glanced over at Devon who was watching the room with his knuckles pressed to his mouth. His large eyes were nervous, but when he glanced up at me and nodded, I felt as if I could move forward. He had that look in his eyes that told me he was there to do whatever he could to help. His support had always meant more to me than he knew, and it was good, on today of all days, to know I had someone in my corner.
“Pace has been fighting us every step of the way on this,” I continued. “We’ve reached a point in our growth where we need to be more discerning about the companies we acquire, and I would rather not work with one I had to bludgeon into submission.”
“Never stopped us before,” Sterling grumbled.
I shot him a look. I was beyond done with his constant attempts to undermine me.
Before I could say something I would regret, however, Devon leaned forward in his chair and cleared his throat. All eyes in the room turned toward him in surprise, mine included.
In our early years in business together, I had tried to encourage him to speak up more often, to demand that people listen to him as soon as he opened his mouth. Unfortunately, not much of my mentorship had stuck. He had always shirked confrontation, even when growing up, whereas I actively sought it out. Our opposed natures only became starker in times of crisis. As kids, when our parents had fought, Devon hid in his room. I usually got right in the middle of it.
“Sorry, but, I actually think Aaron has a point,” he started. “We need business partners who are all in with us. If we acquire a company that resents us and the way we do business, we’re going to waste valuable resources retraining them and winning them over—or worse, having to fire and replace an entire company’s worth of employees.”
Devon frustrated me sometimes, but right now, he was a godsend. I wanted to squeeze his shoulder in thanks but resisted the urge. I promised myself I would thank him later. If my board didn’t order my immediate execution, that was.
“I’m confident that dropping our pursuit of Pace will open up new opportunities for more profitable partnerships,” I pressed on. “Productive business relationships that can form the infrastructure of Patterson as we continue to scale.”
“Speaking of relationships,” Ms. Kane said smoothly, “our withdrawal wouldn’t have anything to do with how much time you’ve been spending with Ronny Pace’s cousin—oh, what was her name? Audrey?—would it?”
My blood turned to ice in my veins. “I don’t see what my personal life has to do with this.”
I had tried to come across as strong, but the insinuation had shaken me. It was only a matter of time before they smelled blood in the water and turned on me.
“Manhattan is smaller than it looks, Aaron. Word gets around.”
Some members of the board exchanged amused looks, and anger flared in my chest.
“I know none of you are foolish enough to believe I would allow my personal sympathies to affect my performance on the job.”
Ms. Kane sighed and pushed her chair back. She began to gather her coat and lambskin Chanel purse. Even in anger, she moved with dignified elegance. “Aaron, I don’t care either way about your ‘sympathies.’ I care about this company. Until you can prove to me with facts and figures, that we are pulling in profits and moving forward with our business model, I have to express my hesitancy to support your actions. It’s simply the way things are. You had better be right about Pace, or you and I will be having a private conversation, very soon.”
Without another word, she breezed out of the conference room like a winter storm, cold and unforgiving. She wasn’t pulling her support just yet, but I knew I was on thin ice with her. There was no telling how long I had left to salvage this.
“That’s all for today,” I said, throat tight. “Thank you all for coming. Meeting’s adjourned.”
The members of the board stood and shuffled their belongings, disgruntled murmurs filling the air. Some drifted toward the door in tight packs, whispering amongst themselves, while others shook their heads as they typed furiously on their phones.
I was losing my grip on them. It was as if I could feel the crown slipping from my head, and it was only a matter of time before it shattered to the ground. I had never imagined finding myself in this situation, and I was getting nervous.
Devon brushed me with his elbow, pulling me out of my angry haze. “You all right?”
I nodded tersely. “Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”
I knew my unwillingness to open up about my internal world irritated him, but it would be over my dead body that I spilled my feelings all over my baby brother in a public place.
“Right.” Devon sighed. “I did mean it, though. I think pulling out of the Pace deal is a good call. Ronny hasn’t exactly been cooperative.”
I nodded. Then, I straightened up and adjusted my tie. “Of course it was the right call. When have I ever been wrong about something like this?”
Devon smiled at me, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. I watched the board file out of the conference room, not many of them meeting my eyes except for an obligatory polite smile.
Whatever was unraveling behind the scenes at Patterson, I had to fix it. Fast.
12
Audrey
Try as I might, I couldn’t stop my worry for Aaron from growing. It had taken root inside me and was steadily progressing from sprout, to shoot, to overgrown vine. I felt that worry wrapping around my heart, squeezing uncomfortably every time he crossed my mind. Aaron had done his best to remain positive through everything, but I had a sinking feeling he was in deeper than either of us were prepared to admit.
He had been adamant about keeping me out of the situation as much as possible, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t still worried.
I tried to keep it from overwhelming me as I sorted through color wheels and marketing sheets at my desk, willing myself to focus on the task at hand. I was still trying to keep my anxiety at bay as I walked a folder full of branding portfolios over to Ronny’s office, but something stopped me before I shouldered open the door.
I heard Ronny’s voice, speaking in a quiet, near-frantic tone. He was on the phone with someone, just as I’d overheard before, only this time he sounded even more panicked.
“I did what you asked.” He sounded almost as though he were in physical pain. “Why is this still happening?”
I wished I could hear the person on the other line and what they were saying to make Ronny sound so scared. I pressed a palm to the door, leaning in and listening as closely as I could.
“It wasn’t supposed to happen this way,” he insisted. “You promised. You weren’t supposed to drag her into it.”
I felt as if someone had doused me in ice water. Swallowing hard, I pushed open the door and entered Ronny’s office. He looked up from his desk, surprise evident on his face, and stared at me with wide eyes, torn between listening to the person on the phone and addressing me.
“I have to go,” he said into the receiver.
As he hung up, I marched toward him, tossing the folder onto a chair. “Ronny, what the hell is going on?”
“What? Audrey, I don’t know what you’re—”
“Cut the shit!” I snapped. “You’ve been avoiding me for weeks. Something is obviously troubling you, but you won’t talk to me about it. Now, I overhear this phone call that sounds like you’re in some kind of trouble.”
“Oh, that? That wasn’t anything, Audrey. Don’t worry about it.”
“You’re honestly going to lie right to my face? Unbelievable! Ronny, we’ve always told each other everything. I have always been there for you when you’ve needed me without question, and now, when it seems like you need me the most, you’re shutting me out?”
“You’re the one sleeping with the enemy.”
I felt like he had struck me across the face. Mortification flooded my system, and then was quickly replaced by anger.
“How old are you, Ronny? Twelve?” I sco
ffed. “The enemy? You are a grown man, so act like an adult, please for the love of God! I don’t understand how me sleeping with someone has anything to do with your business.”
Ronny and I had never really discussed Aaron in so many words, but now I wished we had. Even the most awkward conversation about who I was spending my nights with would have been better than the injured look Ronny gave me then.
“I just don’t feel like I can trust you now,” he said.
A few threads of hair stuck to his forehead in a cold sweat. He looked ill, and even though part of me knew he was taking his anxiety and frustration out on me for no good reason, I was still hurt. Ronny knew me better than this. He should have trusted me. We were family.
“Well, I’m sorry you feel that way.” My throat felt tight, and I realized that I was on the verge of tears. “If that’s the case, then maybe I shouldn’t be working here anymore.”
“Audrey—”
“Thank you for the opportunity, Ronny.” I managed, my voice little more than a broken whisper. I felt like the room was spinning faster than a tilt-a-whirl, and I wanted to get off. “But, I think it’s time for me to move on.”
“Audrey!” Once again, he sounded as though he were in physical pain. As children, the sound of my name was enough to bring me running to him with Band-Aids or sweets or hugs, but we weren’t kids anymore. Maybe I had been stupid to assume that we could be that close forever, especially when sex, money, and work got involved. Ronny grasped for my sleeve, but I shook him off.
Once back at my desk, I pulled an empty cardboard box out from under it and began to load my personal effects into it. My potted succulent, my color-coded notebooks and smooth-write pens, my little tin of Hershey’s kisses. I tossed the framed picture of Ronny and me as teenagers, beaming up at the camera from a tight embrace in front of the scariest Six Flags roller coaster we had braved together, on top of the pile so roughly, I expected the glass to crack.
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