Chapter 4 #2
Ha. Elodie would sooner sell the company than let August have a hand in running it.
He was gifted in a lot of ways, but he’d deliberately distanced himself from the business at a young age, forcing the onus of inheriting all that responsibility onto his sister.
She’d accepted his decision, but she also stuck by it.
He had less say in company strategy than Ricardo did these days, damn him and his well-reasoned opinions about shipping lanes in Panama.
Still, it was satisfying to see Bremmer swallow the lie without a second’s thought. “A proper location, huh? You know.” He sat on the bench just a little too close for comfort. “I own three floors of a building near here.”
“Eh.” August put on a little moue. “We’re not interested in being subletters.”
“No, no! That’s not what I’m thinking at all!” Bremmer’s dark eyes had brightened with excitement. “Listen, it’s clear we got off on the wrong foot, so let me introduce myself properly. I’m Jaxon Bremmer, the founder of Rebel AI. I’m sure you’ve heard of it.”
August didn’t even have to force the wince. “Oh yes, ouch. Yes.”
Bremmer was far from daunted. “Every great corporation has its ups and downs, we’re just getting ours out of the way early on. Our fundamentals are completely solid. Tell me.” He leaned in a bit. “What do you think of the idea of a strategic partnership between our companies?”
August laughed. “I’d say that topic is far too big for a Saturday afternoon in a spa.”
“What would you say to learning more on Monday afternoon in my office?”
“That’s no good, I’m afraid,” August said with a little sigh. “I’m leaving early Monday morning.” He needed to get Bremmer out of his professional circumstances, get him someplace where the possibility of collateral damage diminished.
God, it would be so easy to smash his head on the floor right now and let everyone think he slipped. But no, it had to look like a hit, preferably a shooty one.
Meh.
“Sunday, then, so I can get my board of advisors gathered and—”
“My Sunday is already completely booked with meetings,” August interjected.
“It’s a shame to work on the weekend, of course, but it turns out there are plenty of lovely men in this city who are willing to accommodate me.
” He paused. “I mean, CEOs. Lovely CEOs. Not all of them are men; good thing, too, otherwise my husband might start wondering about all the time I’m spending away from him, poor thing. ”
“Poor thing,” Bremmer echoed, his thoughts clearly going a thousand miles an hour.
“He’s the one who insisted I try out the spa here,” August went on, digging the decision knife in a little deeper. “Seeing as how it might become one of our company assets before long, it would be silly to purchase it if it didn’t meet expectations.”
“Right, of course.”
“And the restaurant here has a chef from Lyon. I adore French cuisine.”
Bremmer held up a hand. “You’re a busy guy, that’s clear.
But I think we could really be onto something, the two of us.
” He was practically salivating at the thought of reeling in August’s imaginary influence.
“My building has a restaurant with two Michelin stars; they can make anything you want there. French, Italian, Japanese, whatever. What do you say to dinner there with me tonight? Give me a chance to make my case before you go somewhere else.”
He lowered his voice, probably in an effort to sound serious—possibly even menacing. So quaint. “As long as you’re bringing real money to the table, that is. I’m not interested in investors with less than a billion dollars, liquid, ready to go.”
“Just a billion?” August replied, blinking and tilting his head like a confused golden retriever. “I think you’ve misunderstood me, Mr. Bremmer.”
“Jaxon, please! And I—”
“I’m not here to play, Mr. Bremmer. My sister has finally talked the board around to expanding our AI portfolio, but who knows how long that comity will last given the instability in the market?
The money I’m talking about needs to be spent yesterday, and a billion dollars is barely enough to make coming to the table worth my while. ”
It was like watching an old-style cartoon, the kind where dollar signs appeared in someone’s eyes as a “cha-ching” sound went off. “I think we’re speaking the same language,” Bremmer said. “Come to dinner with me tonight. I’ll have a proposal for you that will knock your socks off.”
“Mm, tempting,” August said. “But I want to make something very clear, Jaxon.” It was his turn to lean in. “If I walk in to dinner with you and end up being ambushed by a bunch of your staff, I’m going to be very, very annoyed. Got it?”
If anyone’s going to set up an ambush tonight, it’s me.
“And I’d like a table with a view,” he added with a grin. “Everyone raves about the New York City skyline, but Chicago has its charms.”
“It certainly does,” Bremmer agreed, almost jovial now that they’d come to an agreement. “Does eight o’ clock work for you?”
“Nine would be better.” It would give him time for a catnap between now and then; August was still on Malta time, and his body was reminding him very firmly that he was supposed to be asleep right now.
“Nine, absolutely.” He gave August the address that August had expected him to, a modern skyscraper with plenty of windows for Ricardo to make good use of, then shook his hand and hustled out of there.
Off to prepare for his date with destiny, if destiny was a bullet to the head.
August didn’t linger in the steam room now that plans had been made.
He showered and dressed, deciding after a reluctant moment to go ahead and wear his glasses until he got back to the hotel.
They were as fashionable as they were practical, of course, but they were one more reminder that his body was changing.
Fatigue made his vision blurry, and as fun as setting up Bremmer had been, August was also just plain tired. Plus, he missed Ricardo.
You’ve been apart from him for less than three hours, you baby. Get over yourself.
Easier said than done, seeing as how they’d been living in each other’s pockets for three years.
But it was fine—it was fine! This job would be over by the end of the night, Ricardo’s itchy trigger finger would be satisfied for a while, and they could spend some time traveling to banish the rest of the doldrums.
He could find a new postcard to send L’Avia, too; he was more than happy to buy her fine jewelry, designer clothes, anything her heart desired…but she desired postcards. “Happy ones,” she’d said, patting August’s cheek as he stared at her. “From places that make you happy, meu nét.”
Feeling a little more settled, August finished putting himself together and headed for the front desk. The clerk smiled over at him, a young man with a narrow face and an ill-advised moustache. “Did you enjoy your visit, sir?”
“I very much did,” August said. There were no gauche questions of bills or payment; everything had been finalized before he stepped through the door.
The clerk nodded. “Wonderful. I hope you have a productive stay here in Chicago, sir.”
August grinned. “I certainly plan to.” He headed for the private elevator and pressed the button that would take him to the ground floor. Just as the doors closed, he suddenly shuddered like someone had walked over his grave.
Odd. He must have spent too long in the steam.