Chapter 6
SEVEN YEARS AGO
F or being the adopted son, I found it strange that I was paying so close attention.
At the Hunt Manor, in the kitchen, Edwin Hunt spoke with a potential client that, based on the house chatter, he’d been pursuing with some healthy degree for some time.
I wasn’t actually in the kitchen, of course—Edwin Hunt had only recently begun to allow Morgan in there during meetings, and I sure as hell wasn’t going to get that same opportunity—but I sat near the wall separating it from the rest of the place.
If anyone looked at me, they’d see a young boy reading a math textbook.
But if they looked closely, they would see I wasn’t even on the chapter we were covering in class and that I hadn’t flipped the page in a good hour. That, and I had no paper by my side to scribble my math notes on.
No one did, of course. That’s because Mrs. Hunt, as her custom was, had gone out to do some shopping while her husband completed the business transaction.
It worked well; it removed any potential for distractions in the house, and Mrs. Hunt got to avoid the sometimes tense, sometimes aggressive conversations that filled the air.
If there was one thing Mrs. Hunt loathed, it was those fiery arguments that could make her flip a switch and suddenly turn into a zombie.
Of greater peculiarity, if not surprise, though, was Morgan.
He could have sat in that room with his father and the potential client.
He could have studied them closely, but instead, he had chosen to flirt with the client’s daughter.
The daughter was cute, a redhead with a skinny frame, but she wasn’t even among the ten cutest girls in our school.
That, and I really didn’t have much interest in trying something.
On the surface level, it was because Morgan would always have first dibs in the family.
Even though he was quite cool about it, there was no secret that if I ended up prying a girl away from Morgan, he would get upset, the family would side with the biological son, and all hell would break loose.
I would wind back up in the foster home, and my life would be ruined.
But on a deeper level… the past three years had sucked. I hated girls. Well, that wasn’t true.
I hated the effort and the process of pursuing girls. I had grown tired of knowing the inevitable rejection would come when they learned I was adopted, and if they didn’t reject me, well, I couldn’t help but wonder what the hell was wrong with them.
Fucked up, I know. But I couldn’t help it.
Still, I did have some interest in flirting with her, but not so I could get her. No, it was for a much simpler reason.
Boys liked to compete for girls. Morgan and I made no bones with each other about pursuing the same girl and seeing who would win out. Sometimes it was an overt challenge, and other times it was a little more nuanced.
Today, at least until the transaction finished, I would stay back.
“… you see, Clark, I think you have a mighty fine business,” Edwin Hunt said.
I kept listening. “I am bedazzled by what you have to offer. I truly believe that if I invest in your business, I can use my network to expand what you have. So it’s not just me you’re getting.
It’s everyone in my circle you’re getting. ”
Classic. And a bold faced lie.
Mr. Hunt invested in many businesses and provided cash on an almost endless basis, but the idea that he would introduce his businesses elsewhere was just a lie.
It was, as he described “the art of the business,” but I had silently taken to calling it “the art of the con.” Lie and make promises that most normal CEOs and investors would, and then just say you’re busy.
Mr. Hunt lived for one reason and one reason only, and that was to make money.
To him, the easiest path forward was to invest and let things grow to a certain point before selling them.
He spent little time actually networking his companies and practically no time mentoring.
That was a payoff too far down the road, and given that Mr. Hunt was close to his late 60’s by now, he didn’t seem interested.
“A man like you is a man I wish I could have become in my heyday,” Mr. Hunt said with a chuckle.
Another part of the art of the con. Charm, charm, and charm. And laugh so it looks self-effacing.
“So what say you. $50 million for 20 percent?”
The bargaining went back and forth, and I honestly didn’t understand everything, but I knew that the man felt pinned by Mr. Hunt. He did not want to leave without a deal, but the deal did not seem to be in his own best interests.
Nevertheless, as usually happened, Mr. Hunt won. The two shook hands, I heard the scribble of signatures, and the two retreated somewhere for a drink—the only drink Edwin Hunt would have with his clients, his one indulgence in them.
I had seen enough. I headed over to Morgan and the daughter, whose name I thought was Tracy.
“Looks like a party over here,” I said.
“Oh, no,” Tracy said. “Morgan is just being silly.”
No girl ever calls a guy she likes silly.
“Silly, eh?” I said, slyly shooting Morgan a look. I could see the disappointment and frustration. “Where are you from, Tracy?”
“Seattle,” she said. “I hate it there, though. It’s so rainy all the time!”
“You should persuade your father to move here,” I said. “You’d already have me to hang out with. And not just me, but all of my cool friends. You should see the things we do.”
“Really,” Tracy said, a fire in her eyes flickering.
Like… role model, like son.
I guess I’m more of a Hunt than I ever realized.
Present Day
As typical for Mr. Burnson these days, he had disappeared to the golf course for an escapade that did not involve work or a potential client.
I half-expected him to just up and announce his retirement, but then again, that probably would have cost him money in some fashion, and just like Mr. Hunt, Mr. Burnson never lost money if he could help it.
I sat in my cubicle, for once not tossing the paper ball in the air.
No longer did anything I do revolve around possibility, but now around execution.
I finally had the opportunity to prove what I knew I already had—skills in business.
I would close this deal with the Taylors, and I would get Burnson Investments a major asset to its portfolio.
Fire me after that. Strip me of my intern title and make me a full time employee.
You’ll regret it if you don’t, I thought with a smirk.
About an hour into my work, I realized I had to get some documentation we kept in a file downstairs for security reasons. Without a care, I locked my computer, exited my cubicle, and made haste to the basement files, through which I’d have to pass through the lobby.
All seemed normal.
And then I saw her.
Layla Taylor.
I didn’t even have to think to remember her name.
Someone as magnetic as her, you remembered everything about after a single visit.
Of course, it probably helped that the only thing I knew of her was that she was the CEO’s daughter, her name, and her goddamn impressive physical beauty…
but even still, she could have given me a novel of her life and I would have read it over twice.
Sarah Hill was a distant, fading memory compared to the glittering gold that was Layla.
“Fancy seeing you here,” I said with a smirk.
She glanced up from her phone and shot me a smile that seemed anything but professional. It wasn’t quite sexual, but it was as sexual as you could get in a workplace environment.
“Dad wanted me to run some stuff over to you, and you just happened to come in here,” she said with a smile. “How are you, Chance Hunt?”
Something about the way she said my name… I’d been in these spots before, when girls would deliberately say innocuous things they would never say otherwise. They knew exactly what they did, but could plausibly deny what they meant. Of course my name was Chance Hunt. But would anyone call me that?
Nope. But I sure didn’t mind. In fact…
“Doing better now that you are here, Miss Layla Taylor,” I shot back. “I’ve been meaning to get this project moving along a bit, so it’s a bit for the best that you have showed up.”
I added my own bit of plausible deniability. This was going to be fun.
What was not fun, though, was looking over her shoulder and seeing some coworkers come back from their early lunch break.
No one would say anything, but the last thing we needed was rumors flying.
I needed her to be coldly professional in the presence of others… but dangerously flirtatious when alone.
“What brings you here, anyways? Your father is too busy?”
“Dad always works,” she said with the beginnings of an eye roll.
“But he’s also getting up there in years, even though he doesn’t look like it.
There’s a certain level of fatigue and ennui he’s beginning to experience, and he wants to see me up to the next level.
So he makes me get involved in this as much as he can.
I guess he wants to see his only child take over the reigns of the company. ”
“Huh, doesn’t that sound familiar,” I joked.
She laughed, but then I realized what I’d done.
“What does that mean?”
Damnit, she’s good. She listens. She reads between the lines.
“My brother…”
Could I say my adopted brother? Could I go that deep? She did seem awfully sweet, the kind of gal I could tell this to and not have it bite me in the ass.
Except I thought that about Sarah Hill. I thought that about other girls.
And every single time, I had gotten bit much harder than I expected.
I would always convince myself this time was different, and then it was not.
I couldn’t keep playing this stupid game.
I had to be firm, be strong, and not give away my secret.
“My brother wants to take over our father’s firm,” I said.
“The Hunts,” she said.