3. Sawyer
Chapter 3
Sawyer
Fiona’s copper eyes swirled with confusion. She swayed back, away from me, but she was in the corner of the room; she had nowhere to go. Dark tendrils of hair rested on her shoulders. The ripe scent of cherries with the sweet aftermath of vanilla hung in the air. But it was the sharp intake of breath that sold me. She was nervous this time; I liked that.
“What do you want?” she whispered.
I smirked, that same practiced smile I had learned from my father. To negotiate, you had to disarm them, make them trust you, then go for the kill. It was easy once you learned what they wanted.
And Fiona? I knew exactly what she wanted. To be valued.
I extended my hand. “I’m the other Feldman son.” Her hand was small in my grip, light and loose, like she was afraid of touching me. “Sawyer Feldman.”
“How do you know my name?”
It wasn’t hard to come up with an explanation. “You’re Maisie’s sister. I’m Wilder’s brother.”
She scanned me from head to toe, and I did the same to her. Hunched shoulders. Lint on her black dress. Her bottom lip puffed between her teeth. Anxious tension roaming through her limbs like frantic electricity.
“I like this dress better on you,” I said. “Suits your vixen personality.”
Her eyes widened, and I couldn’t help but grin. Yes, I had seen her ripped pink dress as she scrambled to put on the replacement. Since dropping out of medical school, she had become desperate for a hand to hold, someone to show her the way. It was fascinating to watch her fall.
She blinked her eyes rapidly. “Can I help you with anything, Mr. Feldman?”
Mr. Feldman? It was that false politeness she gave to her patrons at work.
“I want to offer you a job,” I said. “Your sister said you’re a librarian.” At those words, Fiona’s cheeks darkened to a delicious shade of apple red. I had used those words on purpose; she was still studying for her master’s degree, which meant she was technically not a librarian yet. But stroking her ego like this was part of my method. “I need a personal research assistant to handle some of our business’s tougher cases.”
“Don’t you own a farm?”
My brother’s wife hadn’t told her sister, then. Good. Maisie wasn’t my favorite, but I trusted her not to expose us. She was as deep as we were now.
Little did Fiona know, the cattle farming was a cover.
“Yes,” I said, my jaw tight, “But we have several companies we collaborate with to expand our hold in the international market.”
She raised her brow. Innocent, but not stupid. She knew a smaller farm like ours rarely worked like that .
“That’s not my area of expertise,” she said.
“Librarians are some of the best information technologists.” I tilted my head. “Research is research, is it not?”
She took a long sip of her champagne, her second glass. Her eyes flicked behind me to a server carrying a tray full of flutes, and for a moment, I considered putting the rest of her glass on the tray to see what she did.
But it wasn’t time for that.
“I have a job,” she said.
“I’ll double your pay grade.”
“You don’t know my salary.”
I knew she was an hourly employee. Besides, we had the money, and I wanted her. I adjusted my gold cufflinks.
“Doesn’t matter,” I said. “I’ll double it.”
She pressed her lips together. “Thank you, but I’m not interested.”
I had known that it would come to this. Even if it meant twice the pay, she was far too proud to be someone’s personal assistant. Her fingers pinched the flute’s neck.
“Enjoying the special occasion?” I asked.
Her shoulders tensed. “What?”
I nodded at her glass. “You don’t normally drink.”
“Yes, I do,” she lied.
She stared straight into my eyes, leveling with me. Fiona was an obsession that had lasted for years. I couldn’t have her until my father was dead, but now that he was gone and the Feldman Offering was officially dissolved, I could finally destroy her. It was one thing to kill a person, but to pull them apart until their entire life was wholly dedicated to pleasing you? That took true skills.
Fiona downed the rest of her champagne. Go ahead, little rebel, I thought, chuckling to myself. Drink your drink. Hide behind your nerves. I’m still waiting for you .
“I’m going to get another,” she said, a hint of fire in her tone. “Nice to meet you.”
She crossed the room to the farthest server possible. I glanced at the side doors to the pool. The celebratory couple was still out there, so I kept my eyes on the doors and on Fiona, making sure everything stayed in place.
Norman Roth, the current owner of Hatchcom Focus settled in with a drink. I met him at his table and shook his hand. Shaved head. Thick eyebrows. A cleft chin. Though the previous owner had worked as a soldier while forming the company, Roth had taken ownership without any combat experience. And yet his business expertise was how the company had thrived.
Just like I had transformed the Feldman Farm.
“Glad you could make it,” I said.
“I met your brother a while ago,” he said. “Interesting fellow.”
“He’s one of our lead ranchers.”
“Right. Ranchers.”
Hatchcom Focus used its own terminology. At the Feldman Farm, we called our men hunters and ranchers; at Hatchcom Focus, they called their men assets. We called our targets ‘livestock orders,’ and they called theirs ‘hits.’ They paid their assets on a contractual basis, always considering them disposable, knowing that they could be replaced with the right offer or eliminated. This gave Roth an advantage in some ways; Hatchcom Focus had grown at a much faster rate than the Feldman Farm.
But it also meant that they were always in the midst of a potential mutiny. We already had a few contacts within their ranks, ready to switch sides.
Across the room, Fiona’s third glass of champagne dangled from her hand. She was close to the dance floor, a friend trying to get her to join in.
In the end, Fiona was disposable. But Roth’s company was valuable to me.
“We’d like to buy Hatchcom Focus,” I said. This was generous of us, the friendly way to do business. “With Hatchcom Focus as a subsidiary business of the Feldman Farm, we’ll be unstoppable.”
“How much are you offering?”
“Fifty million.”
A smile crossed Roth’s face. It was overpriced, but knowing Roth, he wouldn’t give up Hatchcom Focus readily. But I wanted to end this now. The more of his employees were mine, the better.
Otherwise, we’d have to resort to violent measures.
“I’ll have to consider it. Unless, of course, we could make Feldman Farm a subsidiary of Hatchcom Focus instead.” He patted me on the back. “Buy it out from under you.”
That would never happen.
“Perhaps we’ll consider,” I said.
Fiona was finally yanked onto the dance floor, where someone awkwardly bumped into her hip, causing her to spill the last sip of her drink. Fiona reddened, but swayed her hips the tiniest amount, trying to push away her worries. It was amusing to see her letting go for once.
“Who is she?” Roth asked.
“Family,” I said. He didn’t need the details.
“We must protect our family.”
I glared at him, knowing those words were chosen for a reason. I gritted my jaw. “I’m sure you would do the same for yours,” I said.
“My wife left me recently. Found a new job,” he said. This confirmed my information. “We’re separated.” His eyes fell. “It’s been hard.”
“My condolences.” It was hard for me to sympathize, as I had never had any interest in a wife or a family in the past. Regardless, Roth’s reaction was likely an act. A way to pretend to be normal, when he didn’t care about his wife any more than I cared about Fiona.
I shook his hand again. “If that offer doesn’t suit you, let me know, and I’ll see what I can do. We’re very interested in your company.”
“Thank you, sir,” he said.
I gave my men instructions to keep an eye on Roth. Soon, the married couple returned to bid their goodbyes, and I followed the meandering crowd out of the ballroom, my eyes glued to Fiona’s chestnut hair.
“You want us to take care of her, boss?” one of my ranchers said.
I gave a clipped shake of my head. Though I trusted my men with my life, when it came to Fiona, I had an entirely different agenda, one that I trusted only to myself.
“I’ll take it from here,” I said.
A valet brought Fiona’s car to the drop-off point. I dialed a cab company, then stepped in front of her.
“Park to the side,” I said to the valet.
“Excuse me?” Fiona said.
The valet shut the door and parked out of the way.
Fiona stomped, following me down the side of the building. “Thanks, Mr. Feldman, but I can get home by myself.”
“You’re drunk,” I said.
“I am not drunk.”
“A cab will be here in a few minutes.”
She reached for her vehicle. “I am not getting a cab.”
Fine .
I went around the side of the car and dropped into the driver’s seat. She seethed at me through the windows.
“You’ve had an entire bottle of champagne to yourself,” I said sternly. Her cheeks flamed red. “You’re too smart to drive drunk. I’ll take you home.”
“I don’t need you to take care of me.”
My blood pressure spiked. I wasn’t here to take care of her.
So why the hell was I doing this, anyway?
That answer didn’t matter. I was going to get what I wanted.
“You can let me drive you,” I said in a low, calm voice, “or I can make you.”
“Then make me.”
I threw her over my shoulder, and she let out a loud hiss, smacking my back with her fists, demanding that I put her down. And I did—in the passenger seat. I took my place behind the wheel.
“You didn’t have to do that,” she said.
I disagreed. It was part of showing her our dynamic for our future game.
Several minutes passed in silence. Not once did she look at me. The hem of her dress bunched around her thighs, exposing a hint of her pink panties, too drunk to notice that she was exposing herself. My fingers twitched, the urge growing to put my hand there.
There would be time for that. Eventually.
“Bambi was talking about an after-party,” I said. “You aren’t interested?”
“My new boss and coworker start tomorrow,” Fiona mumbled. “The last few new hires haven’t shown up on the first day. And by the time the Board of Trustees approves a new hire, the next one has already quit. And trust me; they love to reject candidates. It took me three applications to get my first job there. Plus, there’s a high turnover rate when the pay is?—”
She stopped mid-sentence, not wanting to admit that her ‘salary’ was low. The things she sacrificed to follow her passion. How admirable.
“So you assume they’ll quit,” I said.
“Probably.” She sunk down in the seat. “I’ll be hungover on a day where I’ll probably have to work a double shift. Open to close. Yippee. ” She rolled her eyes, groaning. “I should have stayed home.” But she hadn’t. She switched subjects: “Do you like me or something?”
“Such an ego,” I mused. “I expected it from your sister, but not you.”
“Don’t talk about my sister like that.”
“Is that your limit?”
“Leave my sister out of this,” she snapped. She gestured to the next intersection. “Turn on the next?—”
She stopped as she realized I knew exactly where I was going.
“How did you know where to go?” she asked.
“Lucky guess.”
“That’s a lie.”
She bit her lip, and I adjusted my grip on the steering wheel. “There aren’t that many apartments in Pierce for your income level.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
There was no hidden meaning. I smiled, pretending like I was teasing her. “Maisie mentioned it,” I said. I pushed the gate opener clipped to her sun visor, then parked. Fiona took a deep breath, then reached for the door handle.
“Consider my offer,” I said, stopping her. “There are no conditions with this offer. Only your service. ”
She studied me closely, scrutinizing my words. “You really want me to be your personal assistant?”
“I know a good employee when I see one,” I said calmly. “And believe me, Fiona. I always get what I want.”
With those words, a laugh puckered her lips, but she held it back. She thought I was bluffing.
“Nice to meet you, Mr. Feldman,” she said.
“Sawyer,” I corrected.
She forced a wide grin. “Oh! And thank you for the ride, Mr. Feldman. ”
We both got out of the car. She walked up the staircase to the third floor. A door slammed, then the lights in her apartment flickered on, her shadow hovering across the curtains.
My driver pulled up in a black SUV outside of the gate. I scowled at Fiona’s piece of crap car as I headed out. No matter how many advertisements or anonymous grants I dropped into her lap, Fiona donated the money or used it to pay back her parents for the student loans they had taken out for her. Even when she needed something, she was too proud to buy anything for herself. If I had to, I’d buy her a new one myself.
But I had finally broken the silence. Now Fiona knew I was in her world. Soon, our game would begin.
I always did what needed to be done. Especially when it came to Fiona.