Billionaires Dollar Series

I lean back in the leather-clad chair, forcing the anger at Sheila deeper down into the storage recesses of my mind.

Time to deliver, Liam.

“Porter, Park and Carter isn’t an investment company driven by a faceless board. Our strength is our board, in fact, and the business experience of its three principal members.”

Albert nods, leaning back in his chair like he’s preparing himself for something entertaining. No other investment company has been allowed a stake in Walker Steel. When my brother and his new partners had expressed an interest in doing so, I’d known I had to be the one to accomplish it.

But he doesn’t seem to be taking our offer seriously.

“In our conversations over email, I’ve sent you a sliding scale of our commitments. We’re willing to waive several of the rights usually accorded to shareholders.”

Albert’s hand curls over the carved armrests of his chair. “And you would be the one principally in charge of the investment? We’d be communicating with you?”

“That’s right,” I say. “As the manager and acting CEO of Porter, Park and Carter, I oversee our entire portfolio.”

And it was one hell of a portfolio, too. But my reply didn’t seem to sway Walker-his mustache dropped lower as he frowned. “See here,” he says, “that’s the one thing that sticks me the wrong way.”

“How so?”

“Do you know how many Wall Street bankers have sat in the chair you’re sitting in? Professing they’re different, how their companies are different, that we’re not selling out by accepting their money. Money they’re only throwing at us because they think they can make a quick buck.”

Damn.

I stretch my legs out in front of me, projecting the picture of ease. “I can’t speak for the previous bankers you’ve met,” I say, “but I’m confident that I’m different.”

Albert’s eyebrow rises. “Oh? Because your record would seem to indicate otherwise.”

What?

Dear reader, my record is stellar.

“I was the youngest investment banker at my previous bank to singlehandedly oversee a mutual fund,” I say. “I’ve beat index by more than seventy percent for the past seven years. I was the top wealth manager at-”

“Hush,” Albert says, sweeping his hand across the desk as if I’m an unruly child. My eyes narrow. “I’m well aware that you can make money. Cole Porter wouldn’t hire you if you didn’t. But that’s the thing-I don’t want a Wall Street banker connected to this company. I don’t want to hear your opinions in shareholder meetings. I know how you live, you young bucks from the big banks. What you spend your money on. And there will be none of that connected to Walker Steel. We’re a family company.”

Pulling out my hair strand by strand might be more comfortable than this conversation. How the hell am I being judged by the lowest standard set by my peers?Content © NôvelDrama.Org 2024.

“I’m from Washington. I grew up just a few hours from here.”

“And you’ve barely been here since you started working for the major banks in New York.” Albert raises a bushy eyebrow. “What’s more, I don’t want any of that playboy lifestyle connected to this company.”

My scowl must have given way to confusion, because Albert chuckles. Dennis walks around the desk to lean against the wall, both Walkers looking at me like the answer is obvious.

I’m not going to make this sale.

“Playboy lifestyle?” I ask. How the hell would they know how I spend my private time?

“Wall Street bankers are known for it,” Dennis drawls. “We were willing to assume better of you because of your connection to Cole Porter, but the little show I saw outside the building this morning convinced me otherwise.”

A sinking realization. “Ah. You’re referring to the coffee incident?”

Albert isn’t smiling. “The very one,” he says. “Like I said-we’re a family company, Mr. Carter. We build things. We sell things. We care about our customers and our employees, and we operate according to certain values. Anyone who considers investing in our company, anyone at all, would have to clear a high bar.”

I’m failing to do so.

And there’s nothing I hate more than failing.

I nod, tapping my fist against the armrest. Think fast, Liam.

“I understand, Mr. Walker. It’s the same principle Porter, Park and Carter is trying to pursue. Looking for investment opportunities in companies that’ll last, industries that can revolutionize. You might not like me, but you can trust the board to be true to those values.” I push my shoulders back, meeting his gaze squarely. “As for myself, you’re right-I did work on Wall Street. I was good at it. But it became too much after a while, surrounded by a lifestyle I disliked. That’s why I returned here, to my home, to my family. And as for the incident this morning…” I shake my head, like it’s all one big misunderstanding. Like I’m a reformed and contrite Wall Street banker. “Very unfortunate. I tried to tell the woman that we’d never met, but she seemed determined to take out her frustrations on me. The coffee and my shirt were collateral damage.”

Dennis crosses his arms over his chest, looking ready to call bullshit. Judging by the look on his face, I wouldn’t be surprised if that’s his favorite pastime. “A convenient explanation,” he says.

“Only because it’s true.” I spread my hands wide, like I have nothing to hide, as the lies continue to fall off my lips. “I’m in a committed relationship. My fiancée works here in Seattle.”

Albert’s eyes soften. “Is that so?”

“Yes.”

“What’s her name?” Dennis asks.

“Madison,” I reply. The name rolls off my tongue like it’s obvious, which is the only way to make a lie believable.

But the choice of name surprises me.

“I’m here to stay, just like Porter, Park and Carter,” I continue. “I firmly believe that our values align, but I respect your hesitation. Walker Steel hasn’t survived this long without being cautious.”

“Damn straight we haven’t,” Albert says. “Look, Cole Porter and Ethan Carter hired you, and that’s the single thing you have going for you. You might be running the show, but it’s their money, and that makes me calmer.”

I fight against the urge to grit my teeth. Here I thought I was done living under someone’s shadow. “Give me a chance to prove you wrong,” I say. “If you come to the decision that you’d rather we not invest, that’ll be respected, no hard feelings.”

He raises an eyebrow again. “I don’t know what it is about you, Carter, but… here’s what we’ll do. Join Dennis and me for dinner a week from today. I’ll email your office with the details.”

“I’ll be happy to.” I reach over the desk for a handshake, and Albert’s meaty fist closes around mine again.

“Wives present,” he adds. “Or fiancée, in your case. Please bring Madison.”

My hand grows tighter around his. “Oh, I will.”

Chopping vegetables isn’t a recognized sport, but it should be, and I’ve never met a fellow chef who felt otherwise. The carrots, leeks and courgettes under my knife all surrender to my furious pace.

My knife is part of me and it knows my moods all too well by now. On the other side of the counter, Alma makes no comment, but her own chopping speed is up. We’re part of the lunch team at Marco’s this week, which means no catering work, but no dinner services either.

Which means I can avoid Jason for yet another five days. I’m becoming a pro at this game, like a reverse Where’s Waldo.

“When’s the application deadline?” Alma asks, glancing over her shoulder to the chef’s office. But Marco’s always deep in thought when he’s in there, not to mention his hearing isn’t excellent after a lifetime of kitchen work.

“Tomorrow,” I say.