Page 15 of Book of Love


Font Size:  

“You’re still a majority stakeholder.”

“The fuck I am.” Sam’s gaze shot to the papers. “Our father cut me out of everything after I left New York.”

“He took you out of his personal will, but not the company. He wanted Folio to stay in the Atwood family.”

“For god’s sake.” Sam rolled his eyes. “I’m not part of the fucking Atwood family. I never have been. I sure as hell don’t want half the company. And since when are you a corporate tycoon?”

“I’m not.” Tension ran through him. “But I had to get involved in Folio after Dad died. Unfortunately, I found out revenue was at an all-time low and the company was almost in the red. I didn’t want to start laying people off and cancelling author contracts, so I’ve been trying to get things back on track. But the board is taking a vote next month to get rid of the genre fiction imprints.”

Sam frowned. “Why?”

“Because they’re not profitable enough, which is an issue with marketing and distribution.” Lincoln ate a bite of swordfish. “But instead of fixing the problems, the board members want to focus on bigger literary novels and non-fiction. Politics and memoirs.”

“That should be right up your alley, then.”

“Cutting genre fiction is a mistake. With the right editors and authors, we could rework all the imprints. Romance, mystery, thrillers. That’s why I need you to take the seat on the board.”

“So I can help push your agenda?” Sam let out a humorless laugh and reached for his beer. “Not interested.”

“If Folio gets rid of the genre imprints, a bunch of authors lose their contracts,” Lincoln persisted. “You could change that. Hell, you could be the publisher of your own line. Plenty of writers would kill for the chance to be mentored by Sam Harris.”

“Did you not hear what I said about my anonymity?” Sam dragged his plate closer and continued eating. “You didn’t seriously come all this way to convince me to jump on the Folio ship, did you? Because that would be a colossal waste of your time.”

“It just doesn’t make sense that you’dchooseto live here and run a bookstore when you could come back to the city. You could help me change Folio Publishing. Turn it into a forward-thinking company that publishes good—”

“Stop.” Sam dropped his fork and pushed off the barstool. “I’m outta here. I don’t know what your angle is, and I don’t care, but I’m not coming back to New York, and I’m not having a damned thing to do with Folio.”

He grabbed his jacket and shoved his arms into the sleeves. As he reached for his wallet, a strange flicker of panic lit in Lincoln’s gut. Like the instant before the IED had gone off, when he’d sensed he was about to lose something and was helpless to stop it.

“If you don’t want anyone to know you’re Sam Harris,” he said, “you should think about my offer a little more seriously.”

Sam stopped in the movement of dropping some bills on the bar. “Are you fucking threatening me?”

Shit.

What had Lincoln expected? That Sam would jump at the chance to join the company that had loomed over him like a massive, guarded monstrosity? The place where their father had sat on his throne and issued orders that pushed Sam down and lifted Lincoln onto a pedestal?

Of course not. But it was all he had.

Sam stepped back, his jaw rigid. “Why did you wait until now to tell me this? You couldn’t have told me after Dad died?”

“I couldn’t fuckingfindyou after Dad died,” Lincoln retorted. “I had no idea where you were.”

“Why are you even bothering with Folio anyway? You don’t need the money. I assume you don’t need the headache either. Sell it to some other company. Spend your life writing and climbing Mount Everest or diving with sharks, or whatever the hell else you do in the name of research.”

Lincoln got to his feet. “That’s exactly what I was going to do until I found out how many people would lose their jobs. Unfortunately, it’s taken a lot longer than I expected to make changes.”

“You can still sell it.”

Unease clenched his chest. For years, Folio had been the only solid thing in their dysfunctional family. The Atwoods had started the company at the turn of the twentieth century, and not once in over a hundred years had it left their family’s hands.

Selling Folio would mean the end of their lineage. It would mean Lincoln giving up on his own story.

“If the company goes under, I won’t have to sell it.” He took out his wallet and removed his credit card. “But I’m not going to stand back and watch it fall.”

Sam yanked up the zipper on his jacket. “Put your card away. I’m paying the bill.”

“No, you’re not.” Lincoln pushed his card at Grant, who gave Sam a shrug and turned to run it through the machine.

Source: www.allfreenovel.com
Articles you may like