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I’ll never forget Zach.
I’ll leave him, at the end of this, and I won’t let myself look back, but he’ll always be in my rear-vision mirror and I know why. He’s the first person I’ve let under my skin in a long time—probably ever. I know that when he talks to me it’s because he understands me. He sees me. Earlier tonight I had that same feeling, and it made me feel vulnerable. It still does, but I’m not running away. We agreed to what this is, and there’s security in that, because I know we’re both too stubborn to let anything change our plans. Sex is what we have and it’s all we’ll ever have.
Reassured, I let my eyes drift shut and I fall asleep, conscious in my last moments of wakefulness that Zach moves closer, putting an arm around me and holding me tight to his body. We fit together perfectly.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
HE WAS RIGHT. There is an intimacy that comes from having made love to someone while looking into their eyes, seeing every emotion that flickers across their face, kissing as bodies entwine, lacing fingers, nipples against hair-roughened chest. It is the closest two people can be, and having experienced that with Zach I feel a shift inside me. Or perhaps it was arguing with him and making up with him. Perhaps it was the way he made it easy to forgive him even when I can’t say with any definitive certainty that he was wrong and I was right.
I flick through the financial document he gave me last night, one hand on the corners of the pages so that I can turn them quickly and another on my coffee cup. The morning light dances above Singapore, promising a hazy, hot day. For a moment my eyes skim longingly to the infinity pool.
Later. Zach is still asleep. I woke early, when it was still dark, unable to get this document out of my head, his warning something I didn’t—don’t—take lightly.
The first thirty or so pages are standard. I’ve seen the figures often enough. The evaluation of She-Shakes’ potential is familiar to me because I also engage a top financial appraiser to work with me—it’s one of the ways I’ve raised capital to this point.
‘I’ll lend you money, Jess. Or become an investor. You know it’s no problem.’
Dad’s offer set me on a fierce path of independence early on. I’ve had bank loans, and now the company’s liquidity is such that I don’t need financing for day-to-day operations. My staff’s salaries are well covered by the revenue raised from subscriptions.
But growth takes money and I definitely want the whole business to grow.
As I flick through the pages, moving nearer to the back, my heart begins to rush faster, until I stop flicking and stare at one page in particular.
41.1—Complete Buyout Option
It’s all there, detailed in black and white. The comparison of quick profits if I’m removed completely, or installed as an interim CEO, but the app is completely brought under the umbrella of Papandreo Holdings. My heart is hammering into my ribs, because this is an argument for splitting the app up and, worse, leveraging it to mine user data and on-sell that information.
I feel physically sick. I close the document for a moment, lifting my eyes to the view of the high-rises beyond the window, barely seeing their twinkly morning lights against the backdrop of dawn.
I push back my chair, carrying the coffee cup with me as I move to the large sliding glass doors. I push one open, stepping into the morning air. It’s warm and humid outside, the air already thick with heat. I sit on the edge of his pool, running my fingertips through the water as I sip my coffee.
He warned me.
He told me that there was risk to holding out. And he’s right.
Anyone big is going to want to exploit She-Shakes for what they can get out of it. They’ll want a return on their investment—it’s Finance for Beginners.
So what do I do?
‘You’re up early.’ His voice sends my pulse haywire, and I almost spill my coffee as I spin to face him.
‘Hey.’ Perhaps my smile doesn’t quite ring true because his lips quirk downwards as he paces towards me, wearing only a pair of grey boxer shorts low on his hips. An arrow of dark hair spirals into the waistband.
‘You read it?’
I can’t meet his eyes. ‘Yes.’
‘And?’ He sits beside me, his legs spread wide, hands clasped between his knees.
‘And...’ I contemplate that ‘... I don’t know.’ I look at him quizzically, then put a hand on his knee, a weight I’ve been feeling since we argued still pressing on me. ‘I know that your offer came from a good place.’ I lean closer, nudging him with my shoulder. ‘I was just very surprised.’
‘I should have told you sooner.’ He puts his hand over mine.
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nbsp; We’re quiet for several moments. It’s comfortable and comforting.
‘I just don’t know what I’m going to do.’
