‘Enough.’ Malcolm puts a hand in the air and shakes his head. ‘We’re not here to hash out a decade-long grudge.’
My father nods enthusiastically. ‘Quite right.’
‘But maybe weshouldslow things down, Georgios.’
My father deflates. ‘Excuse me?’
‘The merger will still go ahead,’ Malcolm says quickly. ‘But it’s clear these two need some time to reacclimatise to one another. It’ll do us no good on the publicity front if we announce the engagement and these two are constantly at each other’s throats.’
‘What are you suggesting?’ my father asks with a frown.
‘We’ll start off with floating the idea of them as a couple in a relationship.’
Imani opens her mouth but Malcolm cuts her off with a piercing glare and she sinks into her seat like a chastised child.
‘See how the shareholders and investors take the idea of our families joining together in this way,’ Malcolm continues. ‘Remember, we need them to see that this is beyond business. That our companies and families are capable of existing and thriving side-by-side.’
‘This is ridiculous,’ Imani mutters.
Both my father and Malcolm ignore her.
‘Fine,’ my father says gruffly. ‘We’ll delay officially announcing anything concrete until these two can learn how to put on a united front.’
‘And that startstoday,’ Malcolm says firmly. He pushes himself up from the table and gestures to the door. ‘Georgios, why don’t you and I discuss some more pressing matters in another room? We’ll leave the two of them to catch up and begin to mend broken bridges.’
My father hesitates for a second and then nods. I can see the irritation flashing across his face at being ordered around in his own building. But he swallows down the anger and stands up. ‘Follow me.’
The two storm out of the room without so much as a second glance at me or Imani. It isn’t until the door slams firmly shut and the sound of their footsteps fades away into nothing that Imani heaves out a deep sigh and slumps against the table.
‘I amsosorry!’ she groans, her head in her hands. ‘Genuinely, I’m so sorry. I know that was insane and… Fuckinghell!’ She slams a hand down on the table and glares at the door. ‘Why do they have to be so stubborn?’
I blink at her. Every single thing about her demeanour has changed. The rigidity to her posture is gone and the cold expression on her face has melted into a warm, if not a little sheepish, smile.
‘I’m just really, reallysorry,’ she says again before she drops her chin into the palm of her hand and shoots me an inquisitive look. ‘You held your own though. I have to admit, I didn’t think you’d catch on.’
‘Itwasstrange,’ I say slowly, feeling myself relax with each passing second in her presence. ‘But I figured you had to begoing somewhere with it.’ I mimic her action and drop my own chin into my hand and raise a brow. ‘Or you were just certifiably insane.’
She laughs the kind of laugh that takes over her whole body. It starts deep in her chest and rises up in waves, making her shoulders shake with each chuckle. She throws her head back, eyes crinkling at the corners. It’s oddly captivating, watching her let go like this. I’ve spent the last twenty minutes watching her sit rigidly with a scowl on her face, refusing to let even the slightest hint of emotion slip through, but now she’s transformed into someone completely different before my eyes. It’s like watching a storm give way to a calm, sunny day.
‘I guess I could be certifiably insane,’ she says between laughs, her smile infectious. ‘But if I’m insane, then what are you for going along with it?’
‘A very intrigued hostage?’ I offer, unable to stop my lips from twitching up at the corners. ‘Am I going to get any kind of explanation, by the way?’
Her laughter subsides into a soft grin. ‘It’s definitely not asaneexplanation,’ she says, almost apologetically.
‘Try me.’
She hesitates for a beat or two and then lets out a soft sigh. ‘My father isn’t the kind of person who backtracks on something, not when he’s already decided it’s going to happen. When I was younger, he put me in ballet classes because the daughter of some potential investor was also in the same class. I hated it. I couldn’t make sense of any of the steps and noneof the other girls in the class really liked me. I wouldn’t call itbullying, but…’ She gives me a wry smile, her expression wistful. ‘Anyway, I begged him to let me quit. I said I’d do anything else. Tap, or piano, or horse riding. Anything but ballet. But he wouldn’t budge, even though I was obviously miserable.’
‘So what did you do?’ I ask, feeling an unexpected wave of sympathy towards this little girl I never even knew. ‘How did you get out of the classes?’
Imani snorts. ‘I didn’t. I was seven.’
‘He let you stop once he got the investment, right?’
Another snort, this one accompanied with a roll of the eyes. ‘Pretty sure he gave up on that plan about two months into me taking the classes. But he’d decided that ballet was beneficial for theperceptionof the Davies name. It looked good for him to have a daughter who spent two days a week rubbing shoulders with the children of politicians, celebrities and wealthy businessmen. Even if they didn’t even like me.’ She shrugs and then points to her hair. Her dark brown curls are pulled into a tight bun. ‘I hated ballet, but some things stick. The hairstyleandthe lesson it taught me. I don’t know if it’s a pride thing or what, but once my father has decided something, there’s no amount of begging I can do that’ll change his mind. I learned that from a very young age.’
She chews the inside of her cheek for a few seconds, and I can practically see the cogs turning in her mind. ‘My father is the kind of person who only listens to himself. He’s got financial advisors and people he’ll confide in, but they’re prettymuch echo chambers these days. They just tell him exactly what he’s already planning on doing.’ Her lips split into a wry grin. ‘And don’t get me wrong – he is usually right.’
