Chapter 21 Harrison
HARRISON
My meeting in LA went well. I dislike traveling long distance for a simple sit-down, but the meeting was with a media bank. Actually, three.
Three media banks, with my internal banking team, and one after the other, and fast.
We negotiated the terms and conditions, and I have agreed to borrow fifteen billion.
With my own capital, it should cover all I need, and the money will be parked in Boston. That is, until the deal locks.
With a shaken Sam under my arm, and with whatever personal effects she has from dipshit, we drive to the jet.
My man at the airport has refueled us, and the team from my office have prepared my other requests.
I walk a tired Samantha aboard, and then I carry the poor girl’s belongings in.
Putting them down the back, I notice a few kid’s books.
It’s sweet, and it feels good to do something helpful in the world. To also protect my girl, not that she is.
In any way.
I place a blanket over her, sliding a lock of hair from her wet cheek. I then cup her cheek and crouch. We share a look, and I try to smile. “You did good, now rest.”
Walking into the cabin, I get down to business. I get us in the air, and when at the correct altitude, I turn on autopilot.
I return to Samantha with a drink and crouch back at her side. She still looks shaken, so I ask her to drink. She shakes her head, and I don’t like it. “No, you need to hydrate,” I say, using my deep voice.
Samantha rubs her eyes, and her nose crinkles in a cute way. “Don’t use your sexy voice on me. It’s confusing.”
“That was my 'listen to me' voice, not sexy.”
“It’s the same, silly.”
“Really?” I ask, running my hand through her messy hair.
“Really,” she says, looking mousy and kissable.
I want to hold her in my arms. And I want to hold her tight. I know it will help her, but it will complicate. Complicate like all F. “Drink!” I command her.
“No!”
“You really need to drink,” I say, sighing. She looks low on energy, and she looks down. She needs water. “Do not make me spank you!” I say playfully.
My stupid idea backfires, and she raises a playful brow.
“And no, that was not a fucking offer,” I say before I pause. “And no, there is no such thing as a fucking offer!”
“There so is,” she says, sitting up and sighing. “I know because you gave me one once. And it was good. No. It was amazing.”
I stand up and look down at her, my hands on my hips. I shake my head, then walk to the bags and boxes down the back. They are the ones I ordered from my team.
I start to pull out treats, and I put them on the table near her. “If you won’t drink or sleep, you should make yourself useful. Fly or make a picnic.”
We share a look, and she seems to be in better spirits. “Whatcha got?”
“Things,” I say, pulling caviar, nuts, fruit, salmon, and cheeses out. Samantha stands and stretches like a sexy kitten. It’s hard and being so close to her is confusing. It is also starting to do my head in.
She leans on me casually, looking down at the big pile of goodies. She then pushes me towards the cabin. “Okay. Go. And put some music on. You fly. I’ll be picnic person. Snacks in five.”
We land at the small South Hampton airport, and I relax, knowing the finance is in place. We shower at the airport and the facility is world-class. It should be. They charge enough for the landing and refueling.
I prepare for my short meeting in the jet, and it will be here because I want privacy. Privacy with Troy and Rhett, who are now back on this coast.
We have last-minute details to discuss and agree upon, and they are hinged. Hinged to the new finance and billions. I also need one of them to go to Tokyo to close with the Japanese I’ve been warming up.
All three of us have slightly colorful pasts. We have all fucked a lot of women, and we have all been playboy billionaires. Japanese corporations, on the other hand, are conservative and play the long game.
They will likely only close on a deal if they know the future is stable, and with a so-called mature media tycoon.
Not a player, and not a playboy.
Convincing the Japanese we are suitable, we are stable, and we are conservative as a conglomerate and team is key to us buying their entertainment business.
The overall deal should make me another clean billion year one if we pull it off. In the long term, it should make me another ten to twenty billion.
I have invested a huge amount of time and energy in this, and I need the Japanese deal.
For some reason, my friends arrive early to the jet, and Sam is just stepping off when they walk up the steps. It’s slightly awkward as they greet because they both stare at me and give me a look.
I shake my head to make it clear it’s not what it looks like.
I give Samantha the car keys for the rental I booked her, and I say the number, “Three.” As in three o’clock.
It does not help, and Troy Remington eyes me. It’s wise Sam is not here and not around the business details. It is also best she is not wasting her time around us.
Samantha smiles back at Troy and Rhett, and then she purrs, “Boys.”
She climbs into the rented convertible, and she peels away fast. The guys watch Sam blast off and disappear into the day.
I shake my head, and finally, they follow me inside. I catch them grinning, and I don’t like it. “Not what it looks like.”
“Sure,” Troy says.
“Right,” Rhett agrees.
“Bastards,” I mumble. “And as I said, she stowed away.” I recline in my favorite seat in the jet, and they sit around in the other large chairs. Folders sit on a couch, and Samantha was cool enough to arrange pastries. She has also made coffees, and juices are down the aisle.
The guys help themselves, and for some reason, the bastards start on me again.
“So, what’s with you and her again?” Troy asks, eyeing me with a croissant.
“Nothing, like I’ve said.” I am full of shit, and they know it.
“The hell, nothing,” Rhett says, eating and dropping pastry on my jet floor.
“Okay,” I say, deciding to come clean. “And use a darned napkin.” I stand to try to make it sound less screwed up. It won’t help. “So, before Samantha started working for me, and by mistake, we kind of met.”
The A-hole billionaires share a look, and they both smile.
“This is the story you’re running with?” Rhett asks.
Smug bastard.
“Says the guy who was rated as the world’s worst playboy two years back,” I say. The goons share another look, grinning like morons. Billionaire morons. “God help me,” I say, rubbing a temple. “We. Are. Not. Fucking.”
“Yeah, but you want to.”
“Bad,” Rhett adds to Troy’s stupid comment.
I growl, and I decide to move to Antarctica, where life would be simple.
Several hours later, we have decided on the new finance details. We have also agreed on exactly who will do what as the merger of divisions and companies happens. And the conglomerate forms.
It was the last unlocked detail. Titles are confirmed, and it is good timing. I will be CEO. Rhett will act as COO, and Troy will be Head of the Board.
Finally, we stand and stretch.
“So,” I say, “now it’s just down to the Japanese.”
“Agreed,” Troy says, leaning on the door frame of the jet and stretching his stiff neck.
“You okay?” I ask, watching him rotate his head.
“I will be. I’m just exhausted. Overseeing night shoots on location. The action movie is so far behind schedule, it’s killing me. I also have a rom-com in trouble in Australia, and the two stars have no chemistry.”
I nod. I know what he means.
“Tell me about it,” Rhett says. “I gotta fly back to Chicago tomorrow. Working around the clock. Shattered.”
I watch them closely, and I get worried. I need one of them in Tokyo ASAP to close the deal.
“Troy, you’re likely the most suitable for Japan. You used to work with some of the team in the day. You know some of them well.”
Troy walks back inside, and he sighs.
Here we go.
I decide to refocus on Rhett and try to get him over the edge. “Rhett, you speak fluent Japanese. Way better than either of us. You could nail it fast, and you can take my jet.”
He shakes his head and drinks more black coffee. “Look, buddy,” he says. “I can’t for a month, at least. I have way too many ad campaigns on. Here, and in Europe. Anyway, it’s your overall deal, pal. Why don’t you go?”
Before I can answer, Troy chips in, “You’re not wrong.”
Dear God…
I know all our reputations for partying and dating high-profile hotties are suspect.
I do, however, know mine is likely the worst from back in the day.
I cross my arms. I need it made clear. “The Japanese are beyond conservative in corporate business. Even my gardener knows that. Hell, first year MBAs learn that Q1. They know about my past. They know about me being a…”
“Playboy?!”
“Busy man! Very busy man,” I say.
“In panties,” Rhett says, not helping.
“Okay, some panties,” I agree. “Anyway, there is a fair chance they don’t think I’m suitable and they disagree to the acquisition offer. And then we will have to find another partner. That is, if we can find one.”
I pace in the jet, trying to remain calm.
“A massive deal turned down in the global media may well poison the well. The entire global entertainment plan and to help solidify media production more firmly in the US may hit the fucking wall.”
We exchange glances, and they do not look sold. “Guys, we have a problem, and we need a solution! Fast!” We share looks, in silence, and I know I am now officially screwed. “I have the worst rep, even if now I’m a monk!”
They say nothing, and I start to feel it all fall apart. I need something, anything, to help.
The sound of a powerful engine builds, and then wheels screech outside. I lean out the door, and it’s her.
Below, Sam gets out, and she looks hot. Hot in her black T-shirt and those black leather pants. She also has a cute black silk scarf around her neck. I growl, and she looks stunning.
She walks up the jet stairs, looking extra cas. “Boys.”
Samantha walks into the pilot’s cabin to give us space and she pauses in the door. She leans back and hands me a small bag.
Intrigued, I look inside. It’s my favorite—a chocolate éclair. As she closes the cockpit door and I eat, the guys smile. “Now what?” I ask, my mouth full.
“Cute!”
“Cute what?” I ask, now getting annoyed.
Troy lifts his silver briefcase, and he smiles wide.
“What?” I growl louder.
“Fake.”
“Fake fucking what?”
“Fake… engagement.”
Rhett laughs, already following Troy out with his folders.
“Hey, the meeting’s not over, what the?” They both stop at the bottom of the jet stairs, and I wipe my mouth at the top. “What are you idiots on about?”
“Her,” Troy says with a shit-eating grin.
“Get a ring. Act engaged, and fly. Then close the deal,” Rhett says fast and just as cocky.
“And report in after,” Troy demands, back-stepping towards his Aston Martin.
Before I can say anything, Sam stops behind me in the door.
“Goodbye, Samantha,” Rhett says with a stupid theatrical wave.
“And congrats!” Troy yells while laughing and leaving.
The bastards walk for their cars, and I turn to Samantha. Looking confused, she puts her hands on her hips. “Congrats? For what?”