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“And we can send over an improved offer today,” Vance says. “One that might match what Aiden’s proposing.”
“What are they proposing?” I resist the urge to rise and pace. “Do we have any word on that?”
Nickel frowns at the table. “Not yet.”
In the corner, someone clears their throat. Madison. “If I may.” She raises her hand like she’s in class.
I can’t believe she has the nerve to interrupt.
More unbelievable is my fascination with that fact. What is it about this little human that makes her so bold? It’s not ignorance. She’s clearly smart as fuck and totally aware. So it’s confidence. She has alpha in her.
“I might have a lead.” She holds up her tablet. On it, there’s a picture of a black and red Bugatti parked in front of a Las Vegas fountain. “Benson Junior posted this to his socials late last night. Apparently he has a new ride, and reading between the lines, it might have been a gift.” She touches the screen and zooms in on the text before reading it aloud, “Friends don’t let friends drive less than 1825 hp.”
I stare at Madison. Normally the assistants can’t or don’t bother to follow the actual business side of discussions. They are here to support me and the team with arrangements that can be delegated. To have her actually contributing to the conversation like she’s one of my execs shocks me.
Even more, to have the interruption actually be on point and pertinent. Because I know that car she’s referring to. It’s Aiden parking in front of our building to encroach on our territory.
“May I?” Nickel holds out a hand for the tablet, and Billy plucks it from Madison’s hands and hands it to him.
“Definitely a gift,” Sully puts in. “Benson Junior is a known gambler. I dug up his debts. He doesn’t have the liquidity to buy a million dollar car.”
“A four million dollar car,” Madison corrects. “I saw a similar one parked in front of Moon Co. this morning, and it got me thinking. Someone’s wooing him.”
Another point to New Girl.
“Not someone. Aiden Adalwulf,” I say. Sully and Billy nod. They recognize the car, too. Aiden bought one for himself, right after his father stepped down and Aiden became CEO of Adalwulf Associates.
“Benson Senior keeps Junior on a tight leash,” Vance puts in. “We know that much. He tried to bargain for a permanent position for his son once the takeover is complete, but we nixed that. As far as we can tell, Benson Jr doesn’t do anything but use the company credit card at strip clubs for ‘meetings.’ He’ll just be dead weight.”
“So, what?” Billy asks, “we offer more cash? Enough for Benson Junior to buy all the Bugatti's he wants?”
“Do it,” I say. “Go woo the son, see how it plays.” I rap the table, signaling an end to the meeting. I rise as Madison passes by. “Good work, Madison.”
She raises her chin and gives me a pleasant smile, once again meeting my gaze. She’s got gorgeous brown eyes, light as a mountain lion’s, shot through with gold. “Madi,” she corrects me, even though I told her I wouldn’t call her that.
I glower at her. How is she meeting my eyes?
I jerk my chin, dismissing her.
She doesn’t budge. “One more thing. Your mother called earlier. Several times, in fact.”
“I don't take calls from my mother.” When it comes to my mother, my temper’s always on a short leash. “Ever.”
My wolf stirs beneath the surface. He doesn’t usually get reactive to my mother–a flaw of genetics, I’ve always assumed–because the woman is dangerous. But then I realize: it’s not about her. My wolf doesn’t like me snarling at Madison.
Odd.
Madison doesn’t reply, simply tilts her head, waiting for me to expound. Outside the conference room, Indira pretends not to watch our exchange.
I don’t sense resentment or competition from her, though, even though she’s Madison’s superior. The two seem quite loyal to each other.
It’s a trait not often found in humans.
Especially not on Wall Street.
“Get out.”
Madison stands her ground as if it's no big deal, quietly blowing my mind. “Your sister called, too.”
