Sixteen
Nathan
I have to get through this damn meeting. Then I have dinner with a family I know nothing about.
What the hell have I gotten myself into?
I haven’t even checked into my hotel yet or glanced at my schedule for the week.
Instead, I went straight to the office because Julian has a bad habit of making people quit when I’m not around to rein him in.
Not intentionally.
He’s just as likely to charm someone as he is to scare them off.
That’s the thing with Julian.
People assume I’m the serious one, the workaholic who never takes a breath.
They’re not wrong.
But Julian is a force.
He works harder than anyone I know, plays just as hard, and doesn’t give a damn what people think.
That’s how we work.
I handle strategy, and he makes the impossible happen. However, I now need to ensure our entire California office is still standing.
I push through the revolving doors of our West Coast headquarters—a temporary, uninspiring building with flickering fluorescent lights, outdated beige carpeting, and elevators that wheeze like an asthmatic kid in gym class.
We’ll eventually break ground on something sleek and modern, but for now, this stepping stone is all we’ve got.
We started in California, that’s home, where Julian and I began with stocks, high-risk plays, and a bit of luck.
We made a name for ourselves.
A name that forced us to expand.
New York exploded with bigger money, aggressive clients, and higher stakes, while Chicago served when needed.
Even with offices in these cities, men like Richard Crane still hesitate to invest in us.
Inside the lobby, Emma, one of our assistants, intercepts me.
“Mr. Calloway,”
she calls, heels clicking. “They’re in boardroom three. They started without you, but Mr. Blackwood told them you were running late. Crane is still on the fence.
Of course he is.
I scan the meeting agenda on her tablet as we walk.
This deal has been in the works for months, yet Crane—the old-school man with a calculating gaze who inherited his empire—can't see past pedigree.
In his eyes, we’re outsiders, which is why this fundraiser is so important.
It’s not about our portfolio.
It’s about how we present ourselves, and thanks to a whiskey-fueled flight and a carefully orchestrated charade involving a fake girlfriend, I might finally change that perception.
Stepping into boardroom three, I offer a sharp nod to the assembled men.
“Apologies for the delay,”
I say, extending my hand first to Richard Crane. His grip is firm, his eyes measuring me as if weighing my worth. The others follow suit, some more eager than others.
Across the table, Julian flashes an expression that practically shouts, Thank fuck you’re here. He’s been holding down the fort with easy smiles and fluid conversation, but Julian isn’t the closer. That’s my job.
I unbutton my suit jacket and take a seat beside him. The moment I settle, the men on the opposite side of the table straighten. I always notice these shifts. It used to be a game, faking it until I made it, walking into rooms filled with titans of the industry and convincing them I belonged.
Now, I am the table, and I know exactly how to make them listen.
One of Crane’s advisors drones on about risk factors, volatility, and projected market shifts. I let him talk. Men like him love to hear themselves speak. They want to be respected, but they’ve never had to earn it.
As I listen, a memory of Sienna at the airport flickers through my mind, teasing me about being “pretty face and sharp suits.”
It’s ironic; while these men underestimate me, she sees right through it. That thought gives me an edge.
When the advisor pauses, I lean forward. “You’re concerned about risk,”
I say. “Understandable. But let’s cut through the noise. Your proposed plan involves tearing down existing communities and replacing them with high-rises that only a fraction can afford. You think that’s a sure thing?”
Crane leans back, studying me.
“That’s not what we do,”
I continue, my voice even. “We don’t just flip assets for profit. We invest in people and local economies. We find value where others see a write-off.
Julian chimes in, “We could take the easy route—buy land, sell to the highest bidder, and walk away—but that’s not our business model. We build from the ground up, reinvesting in communities.”
Crane crosses his arms. “And that’s what makes you different?”
“Yes,” I say.
A subtle shift in Crane’s posture tells me he’s listening because I’m not just here to win him over. I’m here to make him realize he needs us more than we need him.
Crane studies us, silence wielded like a weapon, a test of our resolve.
Julian and I remain still until Crane finally exhales, tapping his fingers on the table. “I’ll give you this,”
he says in a low, measured tone, “you’re not like the others.”
Julian smirks. “That’s the whole point.”
Crane’s eyes narrow. “I still have concerns.”
I nod. “We’re prepared to address them.”
A flicker of interest dances in Crane’s eyes as he leans back. “Alright, let’s hear them.”
One of his advisors—a silver-haired relic of old money—clears his throat. “Our main hesitation is scalability. Your model is unorthodox.”
I fight the urge to smirk. “We’ve built an entire portfolio of successful turnarounds using this model. Blackwood we built ours from nothing. Men like Crane don’t trust that at first, but they respect results.
I already know he’s not going to agree to anything today, so I push back my chair and stand, extending my hand. Crane watches for a beat, then slowly stands and takes it, his grip firm and lingering just a fraction too long.
“My wife,”
he says evenly, “will be eager to meet you at the fundraiser Thursday night.”
My expression remains neutral, but inside, I’m already calculating. Julian was right. Crane’s wife is the real power behind the throne. If I want this deal, I have to win her over too.
Crane releases my hand, his tone casual yet loaded. “Her opinion is important to me.”
In other words: don’t fuck this up.
“Of course,”
I say smoothly. “I look forward to meeting her.”
Crane nods, and then his gaze sharpens. “And will you be attending alone?”
I don’t let my hesitation show. I feel Julian’s eyes on me, and for a split second, I recall Sienna’s daring expression when I told her father I’d show up for dinner tonight. It’s just one more risk I’m willing to take.
I meet Crane’s gaze. “No. My girlfriend will be with me.”
A beat of silence follows. Julian doesn’t react outwardly, but I sense the shift in energy beside me.
Crane holds my gaze a moment longer, then nods, pleased. “Good. I’ll see you both there.”
With that, he turns, shaking Julian’s hand before striding toward the door, his team trailing behind him.
Once the doors swing shut, Julian turns to me with a knowing grin. “You sly bastard. You’ve got a lot of explaining to do, brother.”