Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 63311 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 317(@200wpm)___ 253(@250wpm)___ 211(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63311 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 317(@200wpm)___ 253(@250wpm)___ 211(@300wpm)
I turned my attention to my computer, jotting random notes as we spoke.
Hours ticked by in a blur of amalgamation considerations, long-term logistics, and of course…numbers. My head was swimming with them. No doubt my dreams tonight would feature Excel spreadsheets and a hoard of solicitors with ballpoint pens, rallying the troops to slay the behemoth.
Oddly, that scenario made perfect sense.
You see, in addition to Julia, I was currently traveling with a small team of solicitors and executives dedicated to closing the Blowhard deal—a.k.a. acquiring Mint and Cooperton Financial, run by the thoroughly detestable Gilbert Blower. The man was unscrupulous, unethical, and loved the sound of his own voice.
He was also desperate, and I fucking loved it.
Poor management and terrible investments had put a stake in the heart of what had once been a well-respected institution. In my opinion, Blower was guilty of criminal neglect and greed, and I couldn’t wait to oust him from power. However, my firm wasn’t the only party interested in acquiring Mint and Cooperton.
The venerable name alone still carried weight and prestige in international financial circles, which added unfortunate drama to what might have otherwise been a routine transaction. But no…the corporate courting ritual of wooing via pretty spreadsheets and expensive dinners had been underway for months. Thankfully, we were finally nearing the end.
The sooner the better. The stress was beginning to eat at a few key members of my team. Gallons of caffeine had been consumed and countless antacids had been popped on this flight alone as we caught up with the recent offer our competitor had clouded our deal with in our absence. We couldn’t afford to land in London unprepared.
Honestly, I’d have preferred to postpone the trip to Las Vegas, but there was no point. No matter how rock solid our position was, nothing moved quickly at this juncture of an acquisition. It was a game of chess with wily adversaries, and it was the part I enjoyed the most. But the negotiation phase might muddle on for two months or more before this was over and done, so it was wise to attend to other business too. Like Vegas.
The Horsham Group was a UK-based firm, but we had assets all over the world, including Sin City. We owned percentages in a handful of high-end restaurants, a state-of-the-art sports arena, and a casino or two. A hiring boom had been the excuse to hold a Meet and Greet to welcome our new team members. No doubt the event had been pegged as the main reason I’d made the trip across the pond, but it was one of many meetings, dinners, and speeches in yet another whirlwind business trip.
It was exhausting, but on the bright side, I enjoyed Las Vegas. As I’d mentioned to my companion last night, I knew the city well and—
Bloody hell…and now I was thinking about Raine.
Again.
I didn’t understand why I couldn’t let it go. It was just sex. Great sex, but still…mooning over a stranger was the sort of thing adolescents did—not grown men nearing fifty. Yet I regretted pushing him away so quickly. I should have ordered dinner, instigated round two, and maybe even…given him my number in case he needed anything in London or—
Whoa. And that right there was a sign I’d officially lost a marble or two. I wasn’t one for regrets, and it had never crossed my mind to give my number to a one-night stand—because then it wouldn’t be a one-night stand, would it?
But right this very moment, I’d have given anything for a repeat.
I leaned back and raised the window shade, peering out at the sun-tinted clouds turning the sky into a fireball over the Atlantic Ocean as I let my mind wander to Raine. His bright eyes, infectious smile, and naïveté were an interesting contrast to his casual sensuality.
Perhaps he’d had his share of setbacks, but he wasn’t jaded or hard. If anything, he was too sweet, too trusting, too good-natured. I didn’t understand people who hoped life’s inconveniences worked themselves out. Hope was not a strategy. It was a sentiment best saved for greeting cards. I hope you feel better, I hope you have a nice birthday, I hope you enjoy your holiday…that sort of nonsense.
The only way to create real change was through blood, sweat, and tears…and a measure of manipulation. Look, it might seem ruthless, but in order to win, one had to identify and at times, exploit weaknesses. That was how business worked in the real world. If I “hoped” Blower would accept my generous offer to acquire his company, I’d be sorely disappointed. And I didn’t do well with disappointment.
I preferred knowing I had a shot at success. Which was probably what drew me to places like Bull Rider. Dark corners, strong booze, and like-minded men who didn’t expect or want more than idle conversation and sex.