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A knock at the door heralded his secretary with the updated Letter of Intent. She handed the two-page letter to Fox, who scanned the pages and passed it over to Seth.
He took his time checking the wording, noting from the original he’d read so many times that there were no significant lines added, just simple changes, all of which met with his approval. He signed the document and handed it to the secretary.
“I’ll make you copies, sir.” The woman left.
Fox walked around the desk and extended his hand.
Seth rose to stand a good two inches taller than the older man’s six feet.
“Glad we could make today happen.” Fox pumped Seth’s hand for emphasis. “Do you have plans for this afternoon?” At Seth’s raised brow he added, “We’re having a cocktail function downstairs, part of our sponsorship of a local sports team. Come down and have a drink.”
“Be a pleasure.” Seth pushed back the cuff of his charcoal gray jacket and glanced at his watch. Five-thirty. “Dillon’s nearby.” As in his brother’s arse was in the building’s grand lobby, where he’d agreed to meet Seth. No doubt Dillion was pacing the floor waiting for his text. “Mind if I extend an invite?”
“Certainly.” Fox moved to the door of his office. “Why don’t you call him while I give the amendments of the press release to my secretary? Tell him it’s the eighth floor terrace garden.”
By the time the CEO returned, Seth had spoken to Dillon, who barely contained his yell of excitement at the good news.
Fox called from the doorway, “All ready?”
“Yeah, Dillon will meet us there.” He walked with Stanton, and soon, they were downstairs, entering the lush, landscaped garden with its raised beds and mature trees. Large, purple flowered bushes gave off a gorgeous scent. Lilac. It had been Aurora’s favorite flower. The corner of his mouth tipped up. The link to his adopted mum, however tenuous, seemed fitting today.
He scanned the wooden benches and lime and white cushioned seating. No sign of Dillon. Banners displaying the logo and mascot of a football team were strategically placed on the paved floor. The hulking figures of footballers were clumped in groups around the garden, each man’s pained expression conveying his reluctance to schmooze with corporate bigwigs.
But sponsors demanded their payback.
Seth held back his smirk. These helmet and padding wearing sissies would have to suck it up. Gridiron? Give him a decent game of rugby any day.
Mixed in with the players were men and women, some dressed in smart casual wear, others in suits from a day at the office. Waiters outfitted in crisp white shirts and black pants carried trays bearing assorted beverages.
Fox grabbed himself a flute of champagne and raised his glass. “To our exciting news.”
Seth eyed his choices. Beer in a glass. No bottles. This was a fancy gig after all. He picked a dark ale and nodded his thanks to the waiter. “Absolutely.” He downed a mouthful of the cold liquid, enjoying its icy freshness.
“Seth.”
He turned at the sound of Dillon’s voice, spotting his brother’s clipped blond hair and smiling face in the crowd. Shorter than Seth by four inches, Dillon hurried over from the entrance of the garden. His hazel eyes gleamed as he slapped Seth on the back. “Awesome news, buddy.”
“Bloody oath, mate.” Seth gripped his brother’s shoulder. Getting to this point in negotiations hadn’t been easy, and his oldest sibling had played a huge part in their success. “Stanton, you know Dillon?”
“Of course.” Stanton Fox shook hands with his brother.
“Who’d have thought little bro’s obsession with technology would reap such rewards?” Dillon snagged a beer from another passing waiter and unbuttoned his grey suit jacket, showing his white and black striped shirt underneath. “Hard to believe what he’s achieved in only three years.”
“What we’ve achieved.” Seth couldn’t have made the company a success without Dillon’s business smarts. While his three other brothers had gone into vastly divergent careers, Dillon had been a mentor. “We’re a team.”
“Family’s important.” Stanton said.
A rattling and clinking of glasses in the background plus a loud “Oh no” in a lovely feminine contralto drew Stanton’s attention as he glowered. “Speaking of which...” His lips thinned, and the businessman looked as if he wanted to throttle someone.
The same lovely female voice sounded clearly in the male-dominated space. “Oh, I’m so sorry. All my fault. Here, let me help.”
Seth looked over his shoulder, toward the doorway, and caught a glimpse of a woman steadying a tray while a harried waiter rearranged the glasses so they wouldn’t fall, crashing to the pavers.
“Hey there, Harper,” Dillon called out, his tone surprised.
Seth glanced at his brother, and back toward the doorway.
“Excuse me.” The woman, who’d had the near miss with the waiter, eased her way between two players nearly tripping over one of the men’s big feet.
