Chapter 6
KATE
Rain hammered the glass awning outside the St. Regis like it was trying to turn the entire city into an instant swimming pool. I stood just inside the revolving doors, waiting for my Uber and constantly refreshing the app.
My phone buzzed in my hand, an email notification sliding across the screen, and I smiled as I immediately clicked it. The familiar tone of the message was warm, funny, and easy, and reading it unwound tension I hadn’t even realized I’d been carrying.
I skimmed the lines quickly, my thumb hovering over the keyboard as if I might respond right there in the lobby like an emotionally reckless teenager, but I didn’t. Instead, I closed the message and locked my phone just as a familiar presence crossed my peripheral vision.
Nate strode past me in another immaculately fitted, bespoke suit, an umbrella tucked under his arm like he honestly planned on simply striding unharmed through a thunderstorm.
He took three more steps before stopping, then turning sharply on his heels like the universe itself had tugged hard on his leash.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“I’m waiting for my ride.”
His gaze flicked to the rain cascading off the awning. “It’s four blocks.”
“It’s pouring,” I said. “I’m not risking my blow-out to prove I can walk in this weather. I have standards and I spent three hours in a salon chair for this. It deserves the necessary respect.”
His mouth twitched like he wanted to argue but couldn’t find a foothold. He just nodded. “Alright, then. Well, good luck.”
He turned again, heading toward the private garage entrance beneath the building without another word. I glared at his retreating back.
Arrogant, infuriating, chronically well-tailored—
“Kate?” a voice called. My Uber had screeched to a stop at the curb, the driver leaning across the passenger seat and waving at me like he’d spotted a long-lost cousin.
“That’s me,” I said, rushing out and slipping into the car. “I know it’s not great weather for this request, but do you think you could step on it?”
He grinned at me in the rearview. “It’s the perfect weather for that request. We can always try, right?”
As I nodded, the man took off into the traffic, driving like he was auditioning for an action franchise reboot. He weaved through traffic with terrifying confidence and a complete disregard for traffic laws or my blood pressure.
Normally, I would’ve objected. Today, I clutched my coffee, braced my heels against the floorboard, and silently encouraged his reckless ambition. We pulled up to the Westwood building before Nate’s black sedan rolled into the curb lane.
Perfect.
“Thank you,” I said, smoothing my blazer before tipping him generously and marching through the lobby with the stubborn determination of someone who refused to be locked out on her second day.
When I reached Nate’s office, I pushed the door open, slipped inside, and dropped my bag onto the conference table in the corner. If he thought he was going to lock me out of strategy meetings—and I had a feeling he absolutely would’ve if he’d gotten here first—he was delusional.
And petty. Mostly petty.
Without wasting any time, I pulled out my laptop and opened the file my dad had sent late last night. It was the full financial report for Abram Hinds’ company, dense but clean, which was exactly how Abram liked his operations run.
Transparent and well structured. Having that kind of knowledge about him was what would make our bid stand out head and shoulders above the rest. I was sure of it.
Moments later, footsteps sounded in the hallway, shortly followed by voices growing louder and louder as they got closer. Nate entered first, stopping short when he saw me already seated with my screen glowing, the documents open and notes already written in the comments.
Will followed behind him, grinning like he always seemed to be. “Well, this is going to be a damn productive morning. Thanks, Kate. If this is the way you work, we might even get this deal done before the end of the week. Isn’t Katey awesome, Natey?”
He loosened his tie as he stepped inside, coming over to me while Nate hung back in the doorway like he was afraid he might get cooties if he moved so much as a muscle. I rolled my eyes, deciding to focus on Will instead.
As he sat down, I rotated my laptop slightly toward him, tapping the first highlighted section of the report with a fingernail.
“I wanted to show you this. Abram is meticulous. If we can structure the bid in this same, straight-forward format, we’ll receive an answer from him much faster.
Bury the important stuff under layers of formalese and it’ll take him months to work his way through every sentence. ”
Nate shut the door behind him with quiet precision, his expression guarded but alert. He finally crossed the room toward the table. He didn’t say a word, but Will was a different creature entirely.
“You color-coded your highlighting?” he asked as soon as his gaze hit my screen. “Who does that?”
“Uh, everyone?” I batted my eyelashes at him, not flirting but playing innocent. “Do you have some kind of problem with a little brightness in your day?”
He sniffed in an attempt to hide a laugh. “Definitely not. It’s fun and I love fun, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone use purple to highlight before. It’s usually just yellow, green, and red. Maybe there’s a dash of blue.”
“Which is exactly why I try to use other colors when I’m actually trying to draw someone’s attention,” I said, smiling.
Will abandoned his jacket, rolled up his sleeves, and undid his top buttons.
Then he grabbed his phone and ordered up some coffee before he settled in.
Together, we studied the financial report, both Will and Nate reviewing it like they were reading a menu rather than several billion dollars’ worth of moving parts.
At least Will made it fun. Working with him was actually pretty enjoyable, which felt like it could be a trap, but he was still fast becoming my favorite Westwood.
Nate, on the other hand, sat across from us with his posture rigid, his eyes flicking between the screens and us like he was monitoring for suspicious activity.
When I turned to another new page of the report, Will frowned and pointed at a paragraph hanging in the middle of the screen. “Okay, explain this to me like I’m five.”
“You’re not five,” I said.
“Emotionally, I’m five.” He flashed me a wide grin. “Just tell me what I’m looking at here.”
I angled the laptop between us. “Hinds’ operational revenue is stable. Day to day, they make enough money to keep everyone paid and happy.”
“See, you’re good at explaining things like I’m five.” He winked at me. “Continue.”
“The real value in this company, however, is in his long-term investment vehicles and proprietary tech. My father’s firm structured most of that, which means continuity becomes part of the bid’s leverage. What you’re seeing there is a very summarized breakdown of it.”
Nate cleared his throat quietly, and both Will and I glanced up to look at him when he spoke, though it looked like he would rather have a tooth extracted than actually contribute to the conversation.
“What that means is that we’ll be looking at competitive yield projections backed by historical performance metrics, not sentiment. ”
I smiled sweetly. “That too.”
Will snorted, covering it with an unconvincing cough. “You, dear brother, are terrible at explaining things like I’m five. What the fuck does that even mean?”
The door opened and Alex strode in, scanning the room with that laser-focused energy that I was sure made people either fall in line or flee. “Give me an update.”
As he sat down, I slid the printed report across the table. Confidence settled into my spine while I walked him through the summary and what we’d come up with so far. Alex listened without interrupting and I recognized that for what it was—a compliment. Possibly a rare one.
“Are you confident Hinds will respond to this structure?” he asked when I finished.
“Yes,” I said. “My father will back it up and it includes continued financial management from our side, so this gives him continuity without stagnation. The company keeps going, its growth potential remains significant, and his retirement is secure. That ticks all the boxes.”
Alex nodded slowly, his eyes shifting between Nate and me. “I want a face-to-face meeting with Hinds. Both of you will be there.”
“Of course,” I replied immediately.
“I’ll have my assistant set it up.”
After that, he left just as abruptly as he’d arrived and Will leaned back in his chair, sliding his hands behind his head. “Well, that was terrifyingly efficient.”
“I try,” I said. “Alex doesn’t just try, though. He succeeds.”
Will laughed. “That, he does. He always has.”
Nate said nothing, but his gaze lingered on mine for half a second before he stood and gathered his notes, heading from the conference table to his desk. Will peeled off to take another call, tossing me a casual salute on his way out.
I turned back to my laptop, riding the quiet high of a strategy that had landed exactly how I’d hoped it would. This might even only take a week. Two at most.
I could survive that.
Just as I started pulling up new projections, the door shut behind me with a deliberate click. Nate stood in front of it with his arms crossed, the expression on his face making it pretty clear that he’d shut it so he could give me a talking to.
I had no clue what could possibly have gotten his panties into such a twist, but it was hilarious he thought he could look at me like that. He wasn’t my fucking father.
“If you’re trying to figure out if you’d like to become a bouncer when you’re all grown up, I’d stick with finance. Honestly, you’re just not intimidating enough to keep people away from doors they really want to walk through.”