Chapter 98
“ I ’m seeing too much of you,” I say as Greg enters my office. His presence interrupts my reflection on the empire I’ve built and the relentless pace at which it grows. He’s wearing a collared short-sleeve shirt and plaid dress pants. I raise an eyebrow, puzzled by his new style.
“It’s been a while since we were out late on a school night,” he booms. I laugh, recalling how wining and dining used to consume our lives in the early days of Harris Ventures.
I refocus on the task at hand—ironing out some final terms with Real-ity and getting a status update on fundraising. “How much more are we waiting on?”
“Fifty million.”
I lean back in my chair, contemplating how we could secure that money while considering our position. “I could fund it myself at this point, but I don’t want to be that leveraged in one company. Where are we with him giving up any more equity?”
“Gideon’s holding strong.” Greg’s tone carries a mix of respect and frustration toward Real-ity’s CEO.
“I admire his balls but equally hate him right now.”
“What about the other terms we want?”
“He’s not budging.”
I shake my head, feeling a growing desire to throw something. “Have we reached out to any of the Ultras already on his platform?”
“I was saving that move as a last resort,” Greg says, recognizing the delicate balance of our negotiation tactics. “In regard to whales, I think he’s got about five big daddies on the platform.”
A plan begins to form—an exchange that might tip the scales in our favor. “Tell him we’ll let him keep his preferred equity in exchange for glowing introductions to his ultra-high-net-worth list.” It’ll be worth it for future deals too. “That’s our edge.”
“Done.” Greg departs to set the wheels in motion.
As the door clicks shut, Allison peeks in. “Nikola is here.”
“Adam,” she says in her thick Russian accent, carrying an armful of suit bags.
“I only have twenty minutes,” I respond, noticing thirty unread texts on my phone. I’ll tackle those after she leaves. “Before we dive in, I want to set some guardrails on Dani’s looks. I need her to present a certain image.”
She tilts her head. “You don’t like what I’ve picked out?”
“She’s half my age. We don’t need to advertise that.”
“You don’t like my looks.”
Her tone. It makes me smile. Nikola would be a great closer. I’m relieved I don’t negotiate with Eastern European women often. “Dani needs to look on my level—ageless and timeless. No logos. Nothing cheap. Not too short.”
“Boring. She’s a bad bitch. I see her in a corset and blazer.”
I crack a smile, not disagreeing with her assessment.
“Think of her as my wife,” I say, emphasizing the permanence of her presence in my life.
“Yes, some sexy is okay, but the majority of her wardrobe should prepare her for life with me—galas, business dinners, corporate meetings, lunches at the country club.”
“Boring suburban housewife, got it.”
“Nikola,” I scold.
“You want her to be like, ‘This sweater is ten thousand dollars and from a fair-trade alpaca housewife,’” she suggests.
“Better.”
“I’ll call my friends at Brunello.”
“Perfect. Yes, Brunello Cucinelli is the ideal brand for her.”
“What about behind-closed-doors items?” She raises an eyebrow.
“You’re doing fine with that,” I reply with a slight smile.
“Try on the suits already,” she presses, tapping her watch. I smirk, realizing I was the one who said we only had twenty minutes.
“Are these off the rack or made to measure?”
“Off the rack?” She hisses. “What do you take me for, some Nordstrom stylist?”
I laugh. “If these are already my size, I’ll trust that I’ll like all of them.”
“Smart man.” Nikola hesitates in my doorway before exiting. “Dani isn’t boring. I can’t dress her boring.”
“You will dress her however I say.”