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“If you have some problem,” Nick cut off the possibility of conversation, “take it up with my brother. He’s the one who pulled this little bait and switch.”
“Oh, I know,” replied Mr. Goldman dismissively. “And he sends his regards.”
“What?” Nick was stunned.
“He sends his regards,” repeated Mr. Goldman. “And he says you lost the bet.”
“He didn’t give me the chance to win.”
Goldman shrugged. “As I understand it, you had to pass this little nothing secretary off as Vanessa Reese. Do you want me to go around the other bidders and ask how many of them think that she’s Vanessa Reese?” He threw his head back and laughed. “You can take the cat out of the gutter, but you can’t turn it into a purebred.”
With that, Mr. Goldman strode away, leaving Nick, nonplussed and furious. As it had stood, the bet had left Adam Rothberger with a choice between winning the Jourdan contract and losing the bet, or losing the Jourdan contract whilst winning the bet. But Adam Rothberger did not like losing, even if he was doing it whilst winning, he had found a way to win bet and contract in one act of sabotage.
He had Jourdan Wines and Spirits and he had finally excluded his brother from the family company.
It was win-win for Adam Rothberger.
And it was slowly dawning on Nick that he was the one who had been lied to. He had been given this little task to distract him from noticing that his brother was stealing his inheritance right out from under him.
Nick went back into his room, slamming the door behind him. French vineyards would have to wait, there was a showdown to be had between himself and his brother.
Of course Zoe was disappointed that they were not going straight back to the vineyard to pick up where they had left off (horizontal, naked and sweaty), but she understood that Nick had business to conclude in New York and they could go back to France as soon as that was done. Nick wondered if he should have told her the truth; that he was going to have it out with his brother. But there seemed no way he could do that without revealing the bet, and whichever way you cut it, the bet did not make Nick look good. The bet had hinged entirely on Zoe’s inability to become Vanessa Reese.
He would definitely be happier if Zoe never found out about it.
But he would also be happier if he did not lose his stake in RothCo.
He might have had little or no impact on the company but if it was gone then his only source of income was his bar, which was currently losing money. Overnight, the fact that he could not even run a simple business like a bar would go from being an annoyance to being extremely worrying. Nick Rothberger would be willing to admit that he had had an easy life, in which he had never had to work to get the financial security that he enjoyed – it was very unfair that so many should struggle while he had it so easy. On the other hand; life was unfair, and he was not about to just give up that financial security over a crooked bet. There was not just him to think about; now he had Zoe in his life he suddenly had someone to lavish money on. Someone, it occurred to him, that he could see a future with.
Somewhere in the course of the last three weeks he had started to picture what life would be like with Zoe Blanchared. What she would be like to live with, to have kids with, to marry; all of which cost money.
He was apparently too incompetent to work for that money, so reclaiming his birthright seemed his only option.
The day after their arrival back in New York, Nick made his way to the RothCo building. He had spent the night with Zoe, said goodbye to her that morning and they would be meeting for dinner later, but this still felt like an unnaturally long period to be apart. But it was all for a good cause.
He arrived in the outer office on the top floor to find the usual hive of activity one side and the usual harassed Eddie on the other, struggling to figure out the phone system and cutting callers off, left, right and center. Nick strode up to the efficient, severe assistant outside his brother’s office.
“Is he in?”
The assistant shot him glance which an assistant ought not to have been allowed to shoot a CEO. “Mr. Rothberger is on a conference call.”
“I don’t care.” Nick strode towards the office door and found a wall of interchangeable severe women blocking his path.
“We said: he’s on a conference call,” one of them intoned, the use of the word ‘we’ doing nothing to dispel Nick’s long-held suspicion that they were clones or androids.
“I…” Nick began, eager to force his way through. But, even if they proved to be robots, they still looked like women and for all his myriad faults, Nick would not use force against women. “Right.”
“You can wait.” A third severe assistant indicated one of the seats by the wall.
Nick grit his teeth: he was not a guest, he was a CEO of this company! “I’ll wait in my office, thank you.”
He strode across the room. “Eddie, hold my calls.”
Eddie nodded with as much confidence as he could muster. Nick thought he heard a snicker from one of the robots-secretaries, but no; they never displayed emotion. He must have been mistaken.
Nick entered his office and slammed the door behind him. It did not sound loud enough so he opened it again and slammed it once more, this time harder. He hurled his coat across the room, tossed a pile of paperwork to the floor and threw himself down in a wheeled swivel chair.
“ARRRHHHHH!”
Screaming didn’t help as much as he’d hoped.
A soft tap at the door was followed by Eddie’s head peeping around. “Did you call?”
“No. Just screaming.”
Eddie nodded. “Been there.”
“You know, you can use the intercom, Eddie.”
Eddie nodded uncertainly. “I’m not sure it’s working. Did you want a coffee?”
Nick shook his head. “I doubt that’s a good idea.” He was stresse
d enough.
Eddie nodded and ducked back out.
Nick focused his gaze on the opposite wall and tried to put in order what he was going to say to his brother. It wasn’t easy – even in the confines of his mind he kept shouting and name-calling and getting off topic.
He was not sure how long he sat there in rigid, impotent frustration before his phone started making a series of odd noises.
It stopped and, a few seconds later, the soft tap at the door was once again followed by Eddie’s head. “I really don’t think that intercom is working.”
Nick pressed a button on his phone and spoke. “I think it is, Eddie.”
He could hear his own voice coming from the outer office.
“That’s funny, that is,” mused Eddie.
“Was there something?”
“Your brother… That is to say, Mr. Rothberger – not you, Mr. Rothberger, Mr. A. – is outside. Should I show him in?”
“Please.” Nick composed himself and drew a deep breath.
Adam entered with a smug smile on his face. He waited until Eddie had shut the door then turned to Nick. “Thanks for showing up to work.”
“What the hell, Adam?!” Nick’s plan to remain calm was not off to the best of starts. “What the hell?!”
Adam shook his head. “Boy, are you a bad loser.”
“I didn’t lose!”
“I have compelling evidence that says otherwise.” He waved his cell phone at his brother.
“You cheated!”
“In what way?” asked Adam.
“You never gave me a chance!” Nick yelled back. “If you’d let Zoe speak to Jourdan then…”
“Then RothCo would have lost a valuable contract,” Adam snapped back. “I’m not letting that happen just to spare the feelings of some girl you’ve shacked up with.”
“Why would you even make the bet if you didn’t intend to let her go through with it?!” Nick’s voice was strangled. His ire and indignation on Zoe’s behalf were rising. He would circle back round to the ‘girl you’ve shacked up with’ part of that sentence but for now he wanted to know why all this had happened.
