CHAPTER 1 ELIAS #2
I moved around the small groups of people chatting and laughing with their appetizers and drinks.
I seemed to be the only person who’d spurned the ugly sweater.
Not like I cared. My only nod to the casual dress code in our company was to keep the top button of my shirt undone and cuff my sleeves.
I preferred the more professional look of a gentleman in a suit and tie but that wasn’t the culture at DataStream.
I played the game. And it worked.
I’d risen through the ranks fast, proving myself as the financial wizard I was. My next goal was CFO.
From there, the world would be mine for the taking.
“Damien is on it but I heard he’s struggling to close the deal.”
The snippet of conversation caught my attention and I paused. Damien Barrett struggling with anything was something I needed to know about. Pretending not to eavesdrop, I sipped my coffee and kept listening.
“What’s he struggling with?”
“From what I heard, whoever owns the land doesn’t want to sell.”
“So why not just find a new location?”
“You know how Nigel can be. He wants what he wants. And Damien’s a kiss-ass.”
“True. He better get it done. My clients are getting impatient.”
“Mine, too. The demand is there. We just need the infrastructure.”
With a slight turn, I moved on. They were right about that; the demand was there.
We’d been planning to build a secure datacenter at a remote location for the last six months.
At least half our clients were demanding it and the other half would be when our sales staff pitched it to them.
Damien Barrett—bane of my existence and my only real competition for CFO—had been handed the project.
All the jackass had to do was find a suitable location and secure the land. How hard could that be?
And yet, here we were, six months later, and apparently no progress.
My mouth twitched in a subtle grin. Suddenly this entire holiday party had been worth it.
I caught sight of my boss, Nigel Ferguson.
He was in his sixties, with silver-streaked hair and a strong jaw.
Although he could have been nearing retirement, it was hard to fathom him ever leaving the company he’d founded.
He wore a slightly more dignified version of an ugly Christmas sweater and drunk Demi had him cornered near his office.
Perfect. I could get rid of her for him and solve his land problem.
Leaving my coffee on someone’s desk, I made my way through a cackling group of women and headed straight for Demi. She was leaning into Nigel with her hands on his chest. He had his hands up, palms out, as if to make it extremely obvious that he was not harassing her.
I met his eyes as I approached and tipped my chin, then took Demi’s arm and moved her a few steps away.
She giggled and sagged against me. “Hi, handsome.”
“Demi, I can’t imagine why your husband left you.”
“What?” She laughed again. “Are you flirting with me, Elias?”
“No. I’m stopping you from making a fool of yourself with our boss.” I emphasized the word. “Go sober up.”
“I’m not drunk.” With another giggle she tried to slide her hand between my shirt buttons. “Where’s your sweater? Did you take it off? I can take mine off if you want.”
“Not even if Nigel offered me his job. You’re a disgrace.” I gave her a nudge toward the elevators. “Take an Uber home.”
With an exaggerated pout, she walked away.
“Thank you.” Nigel straightened his sweater.
“Can I see you in your office?”
“It’s a party, Elias.”
I glanced around at the garish decorations and my back muscles twitched at the music. “I know.”
“Five minutes. Then you go enjoy the party.”
I did not say that it would be a cold day in hell before I enjoyed a company holiday party. Although I never kissed anyone’s ass, I was smart enough to keep my mouth shut when it was necessary.
Instead, I just nodded and followed Nigel into his office.
The literal corner office.
Windows showcased the breathtaking view of Lake Washington and the growing urbanization of downtown Bellevue, a thriving city just across the lake from Seattle. I didn’t envy Nigel his office for the scenery, nor the sleek furniture and tasteful decor. It was what this represented.
Money. Success. Power.
Yes, I was after the CFO job. But that was just a stepping stone. This was what I wanted.
And I always got what I wanted.
“What couldn’t wait until Monday?” Nigel asked.
“What’s going on with the site for the new datacenter?”
The quick breath he let out told me volumes. He was frustrated. “It seems to be at a standstill, unfortunately.”
“Do we have any backup options?”
“Maybe, but I’d like to see if we can make this work.” He leaned against his desk. “The mountain location is ideal for physical security, the land out there is affordable, and there’s an existing town where on-site employees could live. There’s even a college. It’s not big, but it’s a nice place.”
Something about his description pricked at me. Small town with a college? Mountain location?
That sounded a lot like—
“Where is it, exactly?”
“It’s off highway ninety-seven on the other side of Steven’s pass. The town’s called Tilikum.”
I cleared my throat. “I’m familiar with it.”
“Are you?”
This should not have been hard to admit. Who cared if I’d lived there? It was just a small town. It didn’t mean anything to me.
Not anymore.
I pushed aside the vestiges of emotion that tried to well up inside me. “I used to live there. When I was a kid.”
“You’re kidding. Tilikum is your hometown?”
“It’s not my hometown. I just lived there for a while.”
“Do you get back there often?”
“No.”
He lifted his eyebrows like he was mildly intrigued. But I wasn’t here to reminisce about my shitty childhood. It wasn’t anyone’s business.
Taking down Damien Barrett. That was my business.
“I hear Damien’s having a tough time securing the land.”
Nigel nodded, a quick burst of frustration coloring his features. “I thought we’d have wrapped it up months ago. It’s a farm that’s been struggling for years, but Damien can’t seem to convince the owners to let it go.”
“Who are the owners?”
“Faye and Russell Cook.”
If I’d still had a heart in the cold, empty space in my chest, it might have stopped beating at hearing those names. But I didn’t, so nothing happened.
“I know the Cooks.”
Nigel’s eyebrows lifted again. “You do? Family friends or something?”
More like the parents of the girl I’d almost married when I was too young to know better. “Something like that.” I paused, keeping my posture casual, like this was just an idle suggestion, not a calculated move. “Do you want me to talk to them?”
“That would be great. Damien’s been dealing with their daughter.” He picked up a folder from his desk and started thumbing through the pages. “Her name is in here somewhere.”
“Isabelle.” Her name rolled off my tongue like it had no meaning.
Good. Because it didn’t.
And that meant I could take care of this. Feelings need not apply.
“Right, Isabelle Cook.” He held the folder out to me. “If you could get this moving, I’d really appreciate it.”
I took it. “Consider it done.”
“Great. Now, enough work. Go have a drink and enjoy the party. You can tackle this on Monday.”
I nodded, giving him the impression that I’d do what he said.
Instead, I left his office and went in search of Alice.
I found her in the conference room, chatting with one of the receptionists. I didn’t know her name but she straightened as I approached, putting a slight arch in her back so her boobs stuck out.
“Hi, Mr. Stoneheart.”
I ignored her and shoved the folder at Alice. “Make copies of these and meet me in my office.”
“What? Why?”
“Because we have work to do.”
“It’s the holiday—”
“Holiday party? Like I give a shit. You can party on your own time.”
Alice glared while the receptionist batted her eyelashes at me.
“You’re buying me a very expensive Christmas present this year,” Alice said. “I hope you realize that.”
“I already bought you a present.”
“That was last year.”
“So?”
“And I’m not staying late. I have to go pick up my daughter.”
“Any more demands before you do your job?”
“No, that’s it.”
“Good. Now make me the copies and put the originals on Nigel’s desk.”
I didn’t wait for her to reply. I already knew she’d do what I told her. And we did have work to do. I needed to find out everything I could about the Cook family farm. Current acreage, ancillary assets, number of employees, debt to income ratio.
If I knew Isabelle—and I did—she was the reason Damien was having such a hard time closing this deal. I’d never encountered a woman more stubborn than Isabelle Cook. If she didn’t want to do something, she’d dig in her heels like an obstinate donkey.
Like Horace, the guard donkey.
I wondered if they still had Horace. Mean son of a bitch.
Shutting out the noise of the party, I also shut the door on that memory.
Who gave a shit about Horace the guard donkey?
What I needed to worry about was ammunition in the upcoming battle.
If I could get enough data on my side, I’d have this deal closed with a phone call. Isabelle was stubborn but so was I.
And I was going to win.
Keep reading How the Grump Saved Christmas