2. Kent
Chapter Two
KENT
Liz is finally in London. Sure, it’s only been a few weeks since I got the brilliant idea to reconnect with her, but I haven’t been able to stop thinking about our upcoming date tomorrow at my penthouse.
The moment she stepped on that elevator back in New York, I knew there was something about her.
Something I liked a lot. Hard to say if it was her long, scarlet hair, her silky voice, or her entrepreneurial spirit but the woman got my attention.
Part of my job as a venture capitalist is calculating risks.
At the time, I had the feeling it was too risky to hook up with my new sister-in-law, Kate’s good friend.
That, and she seemed more interested in my brother, Mick, at the reception.
But now I know he was only interested in Beau, his new fiancée—the one he accidentally got up the duff at the wedding.
And since Beau is my sister-in-law’s best friend, I figure it’s now okay for me to pursue Liz.
Not that we’d ever be engaged to marry. Or with child.
My two older brothers may have resigned themselves to the committed life but that’s not my style.
I like to keep my options open. Sort of like my job.
I invest in businesses I believe have potential.
With my help, they grow and flourish. And eventually, the time comes to let them go for a big profit.
All the while, we have a great time and by the end, the separation is a win-win for all parties.
Liz is a perfect investment. After her deal with Bonnaire Capital closes this month, I’m sure she’ll be coming to London every so often for business.
We’ll see one another off and on for a while but ultimately, our lives are completely separate—hers in San Francisco and mine in London.
It wouldn’t make sense for us to take the next step.
So it’s a safe bet. Besides, one of the reasons I’m wildly attracted to her is because I can tell she’s just as married to her business as I am to mine.
Perhaps Liz and I are the perfect match.
Not that I believe in such things.
I wait in the queue at the bar, checking emails on my phone and sending lightning-quick responses back.
My gaze draws back over to the creamy-skinned classic beauty dressed in a sleek, black dress who’s now focused on her phone.
Even with the harsh light of her screen, she’s by far the most gorgeous woman at the party.
And I’m not the only one who thinks so. Half of the men in the room shot me dirty looks when I stole her away from that old guy. If she tastes as good as she looks, she’ll be even more delicious than the finest bottle in my wine cellar. And I’m looking forward to finding out.
“Kent, darling, nice to see you.” A gentle hand wraps around my arm, and before I can register her face, she’s pressed her cheek to mine with a friendly kiss. It’s Celine with her husband, and my frienemy turned foe, Collin Evans.
“Ah, lovely to see you, Celine. It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” I say politely to the woman who probably has no clue what a tosser her bloke truly is.
“It has.”
“Kent,” Collin says, raising his glass in a forced greeting.
“Collin,” I reply with clenched teeth.
“You should join us for dinner sometime. It’s been too long,” Celine says. That’s because her chosen person inappropriately propositioned Kate back when she and my brother, Drew first began dating. Collin knew it too.
That’s how Collin is. He’s always wanted whatever my brothers and I have. I’m convinced he only attempted to hook up with Kate after he figured out that she was the object of Drew’s deepest desire. As hard as he tries, and believe me, he has, he’ll never be a Bonnaire.
“Perhaps after the holidays,” I tell her, which is a reasonable response.
I’ve got more party invitations this season than I know what to do with—not that I’m planning to attend most of them.
But the real reason is that I’m completely focused on getting my much-deserved promotion by the new year.
Yes, on December 27th, the Bonnaire Enterprise board will vote me in as the new president of Bonnaire Capital, the venture capital division I’ve poured my entire career into.
Everyone thinks I’ll automatically get the job, seeing as my name’s on the building.
However, my father, Dean Bonnaire, is a firm believer in earning one’s place, which I’ve now done.
My investments have increased our profits year after year after bloody year.
Sure, I’m young but I know the business, and I’ve got great instincts.
And from what I can tell, I have my father’s vote, which holds a lot of weight around here. He is the Chairman and CEO after all.
“Wonderful,” Celine says with a smile. “You can find a time that works for you and let Collin know.”
“Of course,” I say, finally arriving at the bar. Collin and I share a look. We both know this future dinner will never happen. “Enjoy the party.”
“Come on,” Collin says to his wife, pulling her away, and they disappear into the crowd.
I take in a deep breath to reset and refocus on the task at hand and order two glasses of Pinot Noir.
“Aye, Kent.” Another hand pats my shoulder. This one is not as gentle as Celine’s. It’s my cousin Dashiel. Or Dash, as we call him.
“Dash, happy Christmas,” I say to my colleague at the firm who’s more like a brother to me than anything else.
“Yeah, happy Christmas,” he says but he doesn’t seem very cheerful. “Listen, mate, Dean wants to see you in his office. Now.”
“Now?” That’s never good.
“Yes, now.”
“Do you know what it’s about?” I ask.
“No. But whatever it is, it seems serious,” Dash says and grips my shoulder as if alerting me to brace myself.
“How can you tell? He’s always serious.” And I always have to brace myself before meeting my overbearing father. It’s like getting called in to see the Headmaster at boarding school.
“Indeed. Which is why you might want to get up there.”
“Just like Dad to ruin a perfectly good evening.” I hold up the two freshly filled glasses, a clear sign that I’m enjoying the company of another.
“I’m sure she’ll wait.”
I let out a sigh. “Wish me luck.”
I return to Liz’s side, setting our glasses down on the cocktail table. “Did you miss me?” Liz smiles and bites the edge of her grape-stained lip but says nothing, so I continue, “I apologize, but I’ve been summoned by the CEO. Will you wait here for me?”
“Sure. Just don’t keep me waiting too long.” Liz picks up the glass and takes a sip.
A jolt of excitement pulses from my navel, radiating throughout my body. What would happen if I took her home and left my dad waiting instead? Seeing as my promotion is still unofficial, I think better of it.
“I’ll be right back,” I say, leaving Liz with a wide grin and my glass on the table—like a promise that I’ll make a swift return.
I take the lift to the top of Bonnaire Tower.
My stomach knots as the steel doors open.
Whatever this is about, my gut tells me it’s something big.
That’s probably the most useful skill my father ever taught me—listen to my gut.
When I was young, my gut instincts were a little off.
One time, my gut told me that it would be fine to chuck rocks at a beehive in the garden.
Those angry suckers stung me about twelve times before I finally got away.
But my instincts grew stronger as I grew taller.
When I first interned at my father’s company, my gut told me to check out the venture capital division under Bonnaire Enterprises—Bonnaire Capital.
And I was right. I had a knack for it. I began my employment after university.
The man who mentored me taught me to trust the numbers.
He said that intuition was a risky sentiment.
He’d been relatively successful, so I listened to the numbers even when my gut told me not to.
And even when everything looked promising on paper, none of those ventures panned out well.
Finally, I began listening to my gut, even when the numbers weren’t on my side. Time after time, I’d made the right call. It wasn’t much longer before I rose to the top of the division. Since Dad isn’t much for nepotism, I had to earn it twice over.
As I get closer to my father’s office, the feeling in my gut becomes stronger, but it’s also turning sour.
I push my way through a set of glass doors that read The Office of Dean Bonnaire, Chairman and CEO, Bonnaire Enterprises.
Beatrice, my father’s longtime assistant, is practically chained to her chunky, varnished mahogany desk just outside his door.
She wearing one of her signature tweed suits. Tonight, it’s the black-and-white one.
“He wanted to see me?” I ask, approaching his door.
Beatrice turns to me with a crisp nod, keeping her eyes lowered.
Hmm, that doesn’t bode well. What am I walking into?
I turn the knob of his private door and step inside.
Dad sits behind his desk, dressed in a black pin-striped suit and wearing a stony, stern look on his face.
It’s a look I’ve seen before, and now I know my gut is right. Whatever this is, it won’t be pleasant.
“Hello, Dad.”
“Son.” He stiffens his chin and narrows his stare. “Why don’t you take a seat?”