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Game on, motherfucker.
Alexander
SITTING ACROSS FROM DAN BUCHANAN in this upscale restaurant, I take in his stern expression that’s intended to intimidate me and smile. Buchanan means to display worldly knowledge with his gray hair and multitude of wrinkles, but I know better. This man may have been a shrewd businessman at one time in his life, but not anymore. Being the sole contractor for building mini-bird helicopters for the U.S. military¸ he’s allowed the wealth he’s earned over the years to cloud his sound judgment making in both his personal and business finances, which is exactly what landed him with a company that’s about to fold. I’ve done my homework on him, just like I do on all my targets. It makes the kill that much easier when I know their weaknesses.
Jack slides the contract across the table to Buchanan. “Here’s the contract of sale, as requested. I figured we’d get the paperwork exchange out of the way so we can enjoy lunch.”
Buchanan’s weasel-dick attorney, Seth James, picks up the document and examines a few lines of it. “We’ll look over it and let you know.”
“Keep in mind,” I interject, “that I already own nearly half the stock in Buchanan Industries. I’m close to being a majority shareholder, and I assure you that will help sway the board in my favor when they see my plan of action to save this sinking ship of a business.”
Buchanan slams his fist down on the table. “Selling our technologies to another country is out of the question.”
I lean forward, resting an elbow on the table. “Regardless of your personal feelings in the matter, selling parts of the business is what’s best, and that is exactly what’s going to happen.”
“No,” he growls. “I won’t allow that to happen. I’ll find a way to buy my stock back from you.”
I set my gaze on him. “That’s not going to happen. You can’t afford it and you’ve already exhausted all your lines of credit to keep the company running long enough to fill the last order you received from the Navy for mini choppers. Face it, Mr. Buchanan. It’s over. Your fate now rests in my hands.”
Buchanan and I continue to stare each other down. I love the challenge in his eyes. Neither of us saying a word while our colleagues, plus his daughter, watch us intently—all of them feeling the tension too. Buchanan absolutely loathes me. I can tell, and I fucking love it.
He doesn’t want to let his baby go. I get that. It’s been his company for a very long time now, but he needs to understand that it cannot be saved. He’s in far too much debt, and he just needs to come to the realization that I’m going to end up with it to do as I please.
This is the most tense lunch I’ve ever attended even though Jack lectured me about keeping this meeting social.
“Good afternoon,” the male waiter dressed in a fitted black suit greets us when he approaches the table. “I am Gerald, and I’ll be your waiter this afternoon. May I start you off with some drinks?”
“Scotch on the rocks for me,” I say when he directs his attention to me.
“Water, please,” Margo answers when the waiter’s eyes expectantly zero in on her.
“I’ll have a scotch as well, and be sure to bring out bread with lots of butter,” Buchanan orders and then dismisses the waiter after everyone else has requested their beverages.
“Daddy!” Margo complains. “You know what the doctor said. Diabetics need to lay off the bread.”
Buchanan gives his daughter a half-sided smile, and it immediately brings the tension around us down a notch. Perhaps it wasn’t a bad idea to bring her along after all. “I know, darling, and I have been, but a man needs to splurge every now and again. It keeps us sane.”
Margo rolls those magnetic blue eyes of hers and sighs. “I really don’t get why you men always want to do things that are so bad for you.”
“It’s in our nature,” he lectures. “All men have their own way of cutting loose.”
Her gaze darts over to me. “Isn’t that the truth.”
It’s hard not to laugh like a schoolgirl with the pure satisfaction I feel knowing that I’m getting to her, but I try to remain stoic without much luck. A ghost of a smile hints at my lips.
“Alexander, did you see this?” Jack asks as he slides his phone over to me.
An email from Yamada Enterprises’ president sits on the screen. My eyes race over the words, knowing Jack wouldn’t be showing me this now if it weren’t important since this is our interested buyer in the Buchanan deal.
I sigh heavily. “Gentlemen, it seems that you’ll have a bit of an extension in reviewing the contract. My business contact for the deal has requested that I meet with him face to face while he is in the states vacationing in Las Vegas. Mr. Sutherland and I will be leaving at the end of the week and will return on Monday—”
“I can’t do that, Alexander,” Jack says next to me. “It’s my . . . cousin’s wedding and I just can’t miss it.”
My lips twist. This isn’t like Jack. First off, he’s never interrupted me in the middle of something, and second, when did he start giving a fuck about some random cousin who he’s never talked about until now?
“Who cares,” I say. “I’m missing my sister’s twenty-fourth birthday party. This is business. Skip it.”
Jack frowns. “I can’t. There’s no way I can get out of this one.”
