The eight members of the Rutherford family who’ve come to the Ashford offices fill the relatively small second-floor reception area, and they’re all talking at once.
I stand by the window, arms folded and shoulders hunched, not joining in. I’ve had butterflies in my stomach since I found out that Edward Ashford called Gramps at the close of business yesterday requesting a meeting this morning.
Brielle rang me at home to let me know. When I asked who’d be going, she named our father and his four siblings who are involved in the business, and the two of us.
“Why have I got to be there?” I protested, my heart hammering. The last thing I want is to be present when the Ashfords announced we can go fuck ourselves.
But Brielle said, “Gramps has asked us both to be present. I’ll pick you up from your apartment at nine-thirty.”
She had a hair appointment so had to shoot off, leaving me alone with my thoughts for the rest of the evening. Consequently, I spent half the night worrying and barely slept. Today it took me forty-five minutes to cover up the dark circles under my eyes with concealer.
Nausea rises inside me, and I’m not sure whether it’s morning sickness or nerves or a combination of both.
Everyone here seems both excited and bristling for a fight. The consensus is that Edward can’t possibly refuse the offer, but that he’s going to want to change the specifics somehow. Gramps and the others spent several hours last night going over the various options and debating what they will and won’t accept, and they’re still discussing variations now in urgent, hushed tones.
I can’t shake the memory of Brielle’s declaration that Caesar is in love with me, but equally I know how he feels about Gramps. Unlike everyone else, I can’t believe the news is going to be good. But would they have called us in if it was only to turn us down completely?
“Good morning, everyone.”
We all look over to see Aurelia Ashford standing there, smiling. “Would you like to come with me, please?” she asks, and she turns and leads the way along the corridor to the boardroom.
She gestures at a tall, broad-shouldered guy who’s standing by the door, indicating for him to go away. He ignores her and continues to study everyone approaching the boardroom. I’m guessing he’s a security guard. In the end she glares at him and leaves him to it as she goes into the room.
Everyone files after her, still talking. I follow at the end. The last time I was here, their table seated twelve, so if there aren’t any chairs available, I’ll happily slink out and remain in the waiting room.
But the table has obviously been opened out somehow because it’s now surrounded by sixteen chairs. When I finally go through the glass doors, I discover Edward Ashford sitting at the head of the table with his board members on his right, and my family currently taking seats on his left. Gramps takes the one at the other end of the table. Reluctantly, I take an empty one in the middle next to Brielle.
Once I’m sitting, I finally lift my gaze to the man sitting next to Edward. Caesar isn’t looking at me, though. He’s leaning back, one arm hooked over the back of his chair, looking down at the table, apparently lost in thought. He’s wearing a navy suit, British-cut, as well-fitting and smart as a military uniform. He’s so handsome it makes my heart race.
I lower my gaze, though, feeling a pang at the thought that he won’t even look at me. I’ve spent the time since we parted thinking about him continually. Has he thought about me at all?
There are five minutes of commotion while coffee and water are passed around, during which Caesar doesn’t look at me at all, and then finally Edward calls for quiet.
“Good morning, everyone,” he says. “And thank you for coming at such short notice.” He clears his throat and leans on the table, hands clasped. “I won’t beat around the bush. We all know why we’re here. So… I’m pleased to tell you that Ashford AgriTech is prepared to proceed with alimitedstrategic partnership.”
He waits a moment as a ripple of whispers passes around the room. I glance at Gramps, whose expression hasn’t changed. That word ‘limited’ speaks volumes. He’s waiting for the punchline.
“We agree that a joint venture would be profitable for both parties,” Edward states. “This includes a shared research initiative, integration of the systems within the scope of the joint venture, and a pilot rollout.”
My heart bangs—he’s agreeing to allow us access to their pasture management system. Oh my God.
“But…” Gramps presses, interrupting the whispers.
Edward meets his gaze, and his lips curve up, just a little. “But… the Rutherford Group will receive no board representation, no voting rights, and no access to proprietary systems outside the agreed project framework.”
He’s saying they want to collaborate. But we don’t get to absorb them.
“Then this wouldn’t be a partnership,” Gramps states icily. “It’d be subcontracting.”
“It’s what we’ll agree to,” Edward replies. “Take it or leave it.” His tone hardens. “I know exactly what you were trying to do with your aggressive deadlines and pressure tactics. I don’t approve, and it hasn’t worked.”
“There’s one more condition.” It’s Caesar who speaks now, and everyone turns to look at him. I watch my father tense, and Gramps’s jaw knots. They’re expecting more restrictions, licensing, maybe more money, or even IP ownership.
“The new soil restoration program will be headed by Dr. Madeleine Rutherford,” Caesar states. And for the first time, he looks directly at me.
My heart bangs as everyone turns to look at me with astonishment. I can’t tear my eyes from Caesar’s, though. As usual, he’s been Mr. Mysterious from the start, his expression inscrutable, but as I watch, his eyes warm.
“To be clear,” he says, “my confidence lies in Maddie’s system, and in Maddie.” He looks at Gramps, and his next words remain unsaid, but it’s clear what he’s saying—not in you.
