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“The CEO refused our initial offer, which isn’t totally surprising since we tried to lowball him.” Keaton pushed up out of his chair and walked around to the other side of his desk.
“Next steps?”
“My research associate is digging through the financials to see if there’s anything we can leverage. I suspect they have some bad debt that we could offer to relieve if they play ball on the sale price.”
He anticipated the disappointment on his boss’s face before it came. And come it did, swift in the tightening of his lips and the deepening groove between his brows.
“I honestly thought you would have dropped the Robin Hood act by now, Keaton.” His boss made a tutting sound. “Relieving their debt? Why should we be responsible for their poor decisions?”
“We’re not,” Keaton replied. “But approaching them with a good faith deal will mean a smoother transition for the sale. We can negotiate a low offer while avoiding bad press.”
“Who cares about bad press?”
“But what about our client’s reputation?” He raised an eyebrow. “The last M&A was so aggressive, people petitioned for an investigation.”
“You mean some basement-dwelling trolls on Reddit posted about it. Please.” Thomas rolled his eyes. “Our job isn’t to worry what people think, Keaton. Besides, the way the internet is these days you only need to wait a day or two before people are outraged about something else. Hell, if you’re smart, you’ll find something for them to worry about and point them in that direction.”
Keaton sighed. To say that he and Thomas did not see eye to eye would be putting it lightly, and he knew this latest acquisition was going to be a challenge. His client, a fast-growing digital media group, was in the process of gobbling up several small companies who’d started making noise about fair use. For the big fish, it was easier to simply buy the company in question than deal with negotiations and potential court proceedings. Only, the big fish was perfectly fine using underhanded tactics to get what they wanted and Keaton was expected to toe the company line.
He’d been hoping to get out of this acquisition without blood on his hands, metaphorically speaking. But that was starting to seem more difficult than he’d first thought.
“Tell me your bleeding heart isn’t going to get in the way of this one,” Thomas said, looking at him pointedly. “Because there have been discussions about making you a named partner and I would hate for you to develop a reputation for being weak.”
Keaton leveled a stare at his boss. “We both know what my numbers are like. You’re better off with me working for you, even with the so-called bleeding heart, than working for a competitor.”
For a moment, Thomas didn’t move. It was hard to tell what the older man was thinking. This was a trait that had won him many negotiations over the years and had struck fear into the hearts of all the fresh-faced newbies that populated the bullpen back in Keaton’s first job at a big investment firm on Wall Street. They’d scattered like pigeons every time he’d entered the room.
But not Keaton. He didn’t scatter for anyone.
It was this reason—along with his talented nose for important details—that had seen the older man take him under his wing. Then when Thomas left that firm to strike out on his own, he’d written a check with more zeros than Keaton had ever thought possible. A life-changing sum.
And when Keaton’s life had fallen apart in a way he’d never seen coming, Thomas had been there for him. Over the years, he became like the father Keaton had never had. He couldn’t exactly say it was a “loving” father and son–type relationship, but Thomas had championed him in the industry, pushed him to be his best and had given him opportunities when many others were happy and willing to write him off.
Keaton owed Thomas a hell of a lot.
“Get it done,” Thomas said eventually. “You know I want to see your name on the front door of this place. But you need to convince Hill. He’s the holdout.”
He walked out and closed the door behind him. Keaton let out a breath and went back to his office chair, digging his fingers into the tight muscles in the back of his neck. Fairchild & Hill could become Fairchild, Hill & Sax.
The thought of it—seeing his name in those gleaming gold letters—set off something inside Keaton. If only all the people who’d doubted him could see him now. His old teachers who told him he wouldn’t amount to anything. The officers who dragged him off to juvie at seventeen and saw him as little more than a statistic. The other juniors at his first job who thought Keaton was a no-good criminal.
His name could be on the door to one of the most prestigious boutique consulting companies in all of New York City.
He could finally be at the top of the food chain. The crème de la crème of Wall Street. It was the goal he and his wife used to talk about while they lay in the ridiculously small IKEA bed that somehow still felt too large for their tiny bedroom. Named partners. They’d already planned how they would celebrate that milestone—with Dom Pérignon and a room at the St. Regis. She was convinced she would make it there first.
At the time, he’d believed her. Because Ellery could do anything she set her mind to. The sky was the limit.
Until it wasn’t.
2
“Yes, darling. You’re a tiger. You’re the queen of the jungle! Roar for me, baby.”
The photographer clicked the shutter release and August Merriweather tried not to roll her eyes. Good thing she was behind the scenes and not in front of the camera, because there was no way she would have struck a pose with someone shouting such ridiculous things at her.
Luckily, the alpaca in front of the lens didn’t have that problem.
“I think Mr. OTT missed the biology class where they told us that alpacas were not part of the large cat family,” August muttered as she packed up her grooming tools and supplies.
