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"You have to be more specific," Cade said. "You mean personal bodyguards or security cameras?"
"Cameras, and possibly also guards. But let's start with cameras."
"Why? You want to install them at the Four Seasons?" Gabe asked.
"It's not for me," I said.
"I'm confused," Gabe said.
"Yeah, I'm not following either," Cade added.
Why did I bring this up? They won't let it go until I explain it.
"When I drove Natalie home yesterday, she received a letter from her ex and seemed worried. I'm just putting out feelers," I told them.
"Wait a second," Gabe said. He pushed his chair farther from the table as if he needed some distance to see me. Cade mirrored his gesture, and now both were at a considerable distance from the desk, staring at me. It was ridiculous.
"Let me see if I have this right," Cade said. "You and Natalie flew to Martha's Vineyard. Possibly, you fucked her."
I growled at him. "Language."
"Okay, you didn't, but judging by how pissed off you are, you would’ve liked to,” Gabe pointed out. "Holy shit. How did this woman get under your skin in two days?"
"I don't know," I admitted.
Cade stood up. "So, she did? You're actually owning it. Damn. Gabe, I think we have a new angle when it comes to keeping our brother in Boston. Ms. Natalie."
"How did we start this conversation?" I said under my breath.
"You brought her up. After you gave us your big speech about efficiency," Gabe said. "Which means you've been obsessing over her for some time."
"Let's start reviewing the reports," I said in a brisk voice.
"And now you're changing the subject, so I'm onto something," Gabe continued. "Perhaps we can get to this later, when we need a break from all this headache."
I tensed at the word. My brother took everything in stride. If he called this a headache, it was a fucking disaster.
"When did you even have this report prepared?" I asked.
"Sunday morning." His tone was clipped. This spelled catastrophe. My brother was also a big believer in weekends.
"Don't panic him before we start. He's going to bolt," Cade said.
I shook my head. "Not my style. When I take a challenge, I see it through."
"This is not a challenge," Gabe said. "It's a dumpster fire. At least that's what it looked like to me and to Grandfather."
"Let's start."
For the next half hour, we reviewed the key performance indicators. My brother hadn't exaggerated. The situation was dire. There was no cash flow to speak of, which was problematic in an advertising agency. You didn't have assets that you could turn into liquidity when needed. The previous management had made a mess of things. But there were still plenty of clients, which was good. It meant we could generate income, but the company was bleeding money. By the time the income from the clients got to the bank, it could be too late.
"This is just a snapshot, of course," Gabe said. "You can look at the books in your own time."
I nodded, staring at the graphics in front of me. They told me this was going to be my most challenging turnaround yet. If this were a client who came to me and told me to save his company, I’d flat-out tell him to sell it to anyone who was willing to give him money. But I knew my grandparents wouldn’t agree to it—they’d get a shitty price for it now. Plus, I doubted they’d ever want to sell. They lived for Whitley Industries. It was their pride and joy, especially after my father's scandal.
After he left, they doubled their efforts to make the company soar, but no one in the family had taken over Whitley Advertising. It had been floating for the past decade, and now it was sinking. But if I managed to turn the company around and get someone to offer us good money for it, my grandparents might change their minds.
"You're going to need nothing short of a miracle," Cade said.
