4. Chapter Four
Chapter Four
Roman
I’d held my brother off for a month, which had been a miracle in itself. Ben was a dog with a bone. When he wanted something, he didn’t give it up, and he’d been vying for a look at our new investment, specifically the CEO, but I’d managed to keep him away. GoldMed was going through enough changes without Ben showing up to create chaos.
“Don’t talk to anyone,” I reminded him.
Ben held up his hands as if anyone would buy his innocence. Certainly not me. I knew him too well. He’d been up to no good all thirty-two years of his life. “Oh, believe me, I’ll be on my best behavior,” he claimed.
I sucked in a sharp breath through my nose. “Tell me why that doesn’t reassure me in any way.”
He chuckled, leaning forward to hit the button for the tenth floor even though the elevator was already ascending toward it.
“That’s because you know me, Romeo.” He bounced on his toes, hands tucked in his pockets. “I’m only messing with you. I just want to see what all the fuss is about. I’ll keep my mouth shut.”
I didn’t bother reminding him not to call me Romeo, the nickname I’d been dubbed in my rugby-playing days. Ben had heard it once and he’d run with it despite the fact it’d been six years since I’d been on a team. Fortunately, he was the only person who still called me that, but dear god, did it rankle me. He was well aware of it too, and that was exactly why I refused to react.
Ben followed me when we arrived on the tenth floor of the Levy building. I greeted the floor’s receptionist, Rita, who’d been with GoldMed since its inception, and introduced her to Ben.
“Did you have a nice lunch, Mr. Wells?” she asked.
“I did. Unfortunately, I picked up a straggler on my way back.” Her fiery red eyebrows popped as she glanced from Ben to me. I put my hand on his shoulder, grinning. “This is Ben Wells, my brother.”
Ben held up a finger. “His younger, more handsome brother.”
Her eyes darted back and forth between us. Rita was sharp as a tack. She didn’t fall for Ben’s joke. Given the fact we shared a face, it’d be hard for anyone to fall for it.
“By how many minutes?” she asked.
“Four,” I answered. Four minutes might not have seemed like a huge age gap to most, but Ben took his role as the younger twin seriously.
He slung his arm over my shoulders and winked at Rita. “You didn’t say anything about me being the more handsome one.”
She sat up straight, a glimmer in her eye. “I wouldn’t want to insult you. We’ve only just met.”
Laughing, I thanked her and steered Ben away from her desk. “Remember when you said you were going to keep your mouth shut?”
“I’m not allowed to greet our employees?”
“They’re not ‘our’ employees,” I reminded him.
“Not yet, right?”
I didn’t reply, but he didn’t need it. Swiveling his head, he took in the bland cubicles and hush of the employees. My first day here a month ago, the quiet had been what I’d noticed first. Not that it had been hard to miss. With my three brothers as partners, I’d invested in many companies the last few years, and I’d yet to come across an office without a constant din of conversation.
GoldMed, a medical supply company started by Frank Goldman nearly four decades ago, was now run by his young widow, Shira. From the research I’d done, the company had been on the decline for the last decade but took a sharp plunge when Frank passed just over a year ago.
I’d bought GoldMed’s debt with the intent of turning the company around or selling it for parts if the situation was more hopeless than I thought. For the last month, I’d been working out of GoldMed’s offices, fully immersing myself in the company to get a handle on exactly what was going wrong.
My presence wasn’t welcomed by everyone, but in my line of work, I was used to chilly receptions. Blustering men who couldn’t bear admitting they needed help didn’t like the man who strode in from the outside, acquiring their debt and a controlling interest in their companies. Shifting that kind of attitude was my forte. The ones who refused to change were out the door.
With GoldMed, I’d pinpointed the biggest problem before walking through the entrance. It was only a matter of time before I could do what I needed to.
We neared my office, and the door next to it opened. Two women emerged. Terry Burns, a Black woman in her sixties who’d been Frank Goldman’s PA for two decades, and Shira Goldman, the current CEO. Terry was now Shira’s assistant and, as far as I could tell, the only person Shira deigned to speak to on any sort of regular basis. In fact, they were so attached, I rarely saw Shira without Terry.
Their heads were tipped toward each other, Shira’s mouth moving while Terry nodded and laughed. Seeing Shira’s face so animated was disconcerting, especially since it normally was locked in a tight line.
“That has to be her,” Ben murmured. “Funny, she doesn’t look like a trophy wife.”
I wasn’t a man who discussed a woman’s appearance with other guys. I found it boring and not worth my time. Ben had a point, though. When I’d heard Frank had married a woman thirty years his junior, I’d pictured someone lavishly attractive. Lips made puffy by a few rounds of filler. Dangerous, eye-catching curves.
There was nothing eye-catching about Shira.
She dressed in monochrome, either black on black or gray on gray, modest to a fault. Her dark hair was always raked away from her face and wrapped in a neat bun at the base of her skull. Her face was the kind of plain that was easy to forget once she was out of sight. The only thing remarkable about her was her eyes, but I wouldn’t say they were beautiful. A shade of green so pale there was something ghostly about them. Still, I’d caught myself staring at them several times. Maybe they were what had turned Frank’s head.
Ignoring Ben, I raised a hand, catching their attention. “Good afternoon, Terry, Shira. Are you headed to lunch?”
Terry laid a hand on Shira’s arm, and they stopped in front of us. Shira’s expression slid back to her normal impassiveness—a direct contrast to Terry’s warm smile. If I thought it would have made a difference, I would have danced a jig just to see Shira react. But I knew better. Since the day we met last month, Shira had blanked me out. I would have thought it was personal, but as far as I could tell, this was how she reacted to everyone. I didn’t know why she insisted on staying on as the CEO if it caused her such abject misery.
“We just returned from my favorite ramen joint. Now we’re on our way to talk to Mike.” Terry looked from me to Ben. “This has to be the twin.”
“Guilty as charged. Ben Wells.” They shook hands, and he directed his focus on Shira. “Nice to meet you too, Shira. I’ve heard a lot about you.”
Shira’s eerie eyes flitted over my brother before settling on his shoulder. “It’s nice to meet you, Ben,” she responded, but there was no meaning behind the words. Flat, cold, emotionless—just like her.
I cleared my throat. “You’ll have to email me the name of the ramen place, Terry. Unless it’s a state secret.”
She grinned, her fingers squeezing Shira’s arm. “If you promise not to spread it around.”
I held up a hand. “Scout’s honor. You share the ramen joint, I’ll give you the name of the Greek restaurant where we just had lunch. If you like lamb, theirs is so tender it basically melts in your mouth.”
Shira made a sound somewhere between a cough and a whimper. Then, out of nowhere, she walked off. No word. Not even a salute. The woman just…left.
Ben whipped around to watch her go, and I caught Terry’s concerned gaze following Shira down the hall.
Scrubbing my jaw, I frowned. “Guess she doesn’t like Greek.”
Terry tried to laugh, but there was no amusement behind it. “I don’t think she’s feeling well. I’m going to check on her. Excuse me, gentlemen.”
I’d met a lot of people in my life, both in sports and business, and no one perplexed me the way Shira Goldman did. She’d been married to a man I’d once admired, but I was unable to understand what qualities Frank had seen in her that had made him throw away most of his relationships and give her full control of the company he’d built from the ground up.
“Huh.” Ben rubbed his stomach, swiveling back to me. “That was…off-putting.”
I took him by the shoulder, leading him into my office. It was sparse, but I was only here temporarily, so I hadn’t bothered decorating. The view out the floor-to-ceiling windows was all I needed anyway. Elliot Levy owned this building. All his properties were well positioned and smartly designed, so even the most simple lines were pleasing to the eye.
My brother flung himself into one of two leather chairs facing my desk and let out a sigh. “So, that’s Frank’s young bride?”
I settled in my chair, half facing Ben, half turned toward the window. “That’s her.”
“Hmmm. I expected to meet her and find out Frannie had been exaggerating. Turns out, she’d grossly undersold her wicked stepmother.”
I pressed my fingers together in a bridge. “Don’t let her hear you calling her Frannie.”
He winged a brow. “Is she in the office today?”
“I have no idea. Francesca doesn’t keep me abreast of her schedule, but she’s away more often than she’s here.”
We’d gone to high school with Francesca Goldman. Her father had been friends with ours. We’d never existed in the same social circles, but when Frank died last year, we’d started talking, and she’d spilled every dirty detail about her father’s wife, who was nearly the same age as her. I took a lot of what Francesca said with a grain of salt since she thrived on drama, but if even a quarter of what she’d said was true, Shira was an even worse person than I’d already imagined.
Ben chuffed. “I don’t blame Frannie. This place is like a tomb. Maybe you should play some music to pick up the vibe. Bring in some entertainers. Oh—a popcorn machine! Yeah, do that.”
“What kind of entertainers? Were you thinking jugglers or strippers?”
“Neither.” He twirled his hand in front of himself. “I was thinking those party facilitators who come with the DJ at bar mitzvahs.”
I cocked my head, staring at my brother. “Do you even understand what goes on in an office?”
“I do not, and I never want to. Keep that to yourself, Romeo.”
While my rugby career had been cut short by a shoulder injury, Ben’s was going strong. He had two Olympics under his belt and didn’t seem to be running out of steam. I didn’t try to deny my jealousy that he still got to play the game we both loved, but I wasn’t unhappy with where I’d ended up either. Life wasn’t always fair, but I’d bought a stake in Denver’s pro rugby team, the Mountain Lions, keeping my foot in the game in the only way it could be.
As for my brother, he had never worked an office job, and he had no intention of ever being strapped to a desk. The idea of Ben sitting still, working at a computer for eight or nine hours, was preposterous. We might’ve been identical in a lot of ways, but we diverged in our ability to hunker down and focus. We’d become business partners years ago, but that consisted of Ben giving me money to invest and me returning it tenfold. It worked for us both.
I rubbed the spot between my brows and sighed. “When are you leaving for New Zealand?”
Ben’s team was headed overseas for training for a month, and I was dreading his absence as much as I was looking forward to the quiet. Not only was he my brother, but he’d decided to move in with me when he’d broken up with his girlfriend—the same time I’d split from mine a few months ago. He’d made himself comfortable and didn’t seem to be going anywhere, and I wasn’t in a hurry to get rid of him.
“Tuesday. Are you going to miss me?”
“Maybe.” I shrugged. “Eating dinner alone will be strange. No one stealing the food off my plate, you know?”
He cackled. “I’m saving you from all those calories. Now that you’re behind a desk all day, you’re going to get a gut.”
I patted my abdomen, which admittedly wasn’t in the same shape it had been but was nowhere near becoming a gut. “I’m doing all right. I can still take my shirt off without shame.”
Without warning, my office door swung open, and Francesca Goldman let herself in. With a smirk, she slinked up behind Ben and bent down, covering his eyes with her hands.
“Guess who?” she cooed next to his ear.
“Hmmm…you smell expensive, and your hands feel like they’ve never worked an honest day in your whole life. Gotta be Frannie.”
With a yelp, she straightened and gave his shoulder a less-than-playful whack. “God, Benjamin, I’ve told you not to call me that. When will it sink into your thick skull?”
Ben climbed to his feet and gave her a bear hug, squeezing a squeal out of her. “I dunno, Frannie. My thick skull has taken a lot of hits. Might be a while before I remember. Wait, what was I supposed to remember?”
I had to hide my laugh behind my hands. When Ben found someone’s button, he pushed the hell out of it. I would have told him to cut it out, but Francesca deserved some razzing. With looks, money, and status, she’d been skating through life since birth. She was used to people kissing her thousand-dollar heels, even when acting like an entitled bitch. After a month of observing her lack of professionalism and work ethic, I’d come to the conclusion that was pretty much all the time.
I didn’t bother talking to her about it. Things would be changing around here—and soon.
Francesca stomped her expensive high heels and circled Ben, her hands on her hips. Ben leaned back in his chair, his legs stretched out in front of him, a crooked grin on his face.
“I thought you’d be happy to see me,” Francesca whined. “Must you be such a tease?”
“Yes, I must.” Ben raised an eyebrow at me. “Rome and I were just talking about you.”
“You were?” Francesca whirled around to me, her shiny pink lips pursing. “All good things, I hope.”
“Ben was trying to ascertain your work schedule,” I informed her. “I couldn’t give him an answer since I’m not really sure what it is.”
She waved me off like I was a big joker. “You know I work from home most of the time. I can’t stand being here with her . Her presence upsets me so very much.”
“Interesting.” I steepled my fingers beneath my chin. “I never see you online when you’re not in the office.”
Her brow arched. “Have you been looking for me, Roman?”
Ben grunted before rising to his feet. “On that note, I’m going to get going. Nice seeing you, Fran.” He winked at me. “Have fun, bro.”
With a sigh, I nodded toward his vacated seat. “I’ve been meaning to schedule an appointment with you. No time like the present, right?”
“An appointment? This should be interesting.” She perched on the edge of the chair, leaning forward to give me a view down the V of her dress. I turned away, and she made a little chirp of disgruntlement.
Given the admiration I held for her father, I almost felt bad for how strongly I’d come to dislike Francesca Goldman. Getting to know her over the last month had been enlightening in a way going to school with her hadn’t. Francesca was thirty years old and still behaved like a spoiled princess who dodged work like that was her actual job. But there was nothing I could do about the mistakes Frank had made in raising his daughter.
GoldMed was my sole focus, and luckily for everyone, soon, Francesca would have no reason to pretend she worked here.
A couple more weeks, my plans would be in motion.