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She led me to a room where a warming ripple ran up my spine even before I stepped foot inside. Alma knocked and then held the door for me. I crossed the threshold and—damnation—fucking Brandon was seated on a plush chair, swirling a glass of brandy and looking as smug as a bug.
My hand tightened so fiercely on my briefcase’s handle that it went numb. Tearing my gaze away from the smarmy bastard, I turned to Hunter Portman, nodded, and held out my hand for a shake. “Portman.”
“Thank you for coming, Maxwell.” He grasped my hand in a strong grip.
The man’s hand felt like mine, rough and full of calluses. I supposed he was hands-on on his ranch too, but God knew how; this ranch was bigger than a small country. “Thanks for having me. Am I too late?”
“No.” He shook his head. “You’re just on time. We’re all just chatting, but now that you’re here, we should get this along. Take a seat, and soon, you’ll have your pitch. I believe you’re right after West here.”
I turned to Brandon. “Funny. I didn’t know to expect to see you.”
“Neither did I,” he replied, his tone calm and cool but his eyes brimming with malice and superiority.
I spotted Hunter looking between us from the corner of my eyes. “You two know each other?
“We’re neighbors,” I replied shortly, returning to my seat. “You could consider us Germany after World War two, divided by one iron curtain.”
“As peaceful as it too,” Brandon replied stiffly.
“…I see,” Hunter replied, his gaze shifting between us. “Well, let’s begin. Mister Owens, you’re up.”
An older gentleman, probably in his early forties, stepped up and made his pitch, stating his reputation, people he had worked with, and companies who had vetted his operation, name-dropping all the way. I could see that Hunter was not impressed.
The second guy was more detailed but pushed his newest experimental procedure, making Hunter reject him. No one was interested in investing in something thatmightwork instead of something that wasprovento work.
Brandon then stood. “Dim the light, please.”
Of course, he’d come with the projector, bells, lights, whistles, and flashing teeth worthy of a Colgate commercial. To his credit, Brandon had done his homework and shown what needed to be shown, but he had not done one crucial thing, talked about where his stock came from, the genetics of it all.
When it was time, I handed Hunter a folder with all the pertinent printouts and information. “Good stock comes from good breeding, and good breeding means the selective method but in a way that runs the risk of reducing or removing other genes from the overall pool. Yes, we examine the genetic components of our stock, but we do not believe in removing any trait from an animal.”
“Then what do you do to have strong stock?” Owens asked.
“Trade secret,” I said, looking at Brandon. “Not a word of that will pass my lips.”
“That is a bit unfair, don’t you think?” Brandon said calmly, but I heard the poison behind his words. “We all laid out our methods.”
“And so have I,” I replied smartly. “But only to the man who matters here. Rest assured; I am not interested in your methods because the ones I use are tried and true.”
Brandon’s lips pinched so hard I wondered if there was an invisible lemon he was suddenly sucking on.
“I think I have enough to consider for the moment,” Hunter said while looking up. “Please, join Alma in the dining room for lunch. I shall have a decision made by that time you’re finished.”
While the others stood, Brandon left the room first, his face set in stone. When the room cleared, Hunter sat back on his office chair and looked at me. “West isn’t fond of you, is he?”
I laughed. “Call it like it is. West hates the air I breathe because I came from nothing, and I am still doing better than he is, while he came from eons of money but is still lingering behind.”
“Ah,” Hunter replied. “I see. I’ve had business with people like him. Anyway, you should go and have lunch too. I’ll be going over all the proposals.”
With a nod, I followed the noise to the dining room, where a veritable feast was spread on the long table. I saw roasted beef, glazed ham, yellow rice, a mountain of mixed vegetables and other sides, and many pies. My Ella would have loved to get the recipes for all these foods.
I poured a glass of iced tea and sipped it, undecided about what to eat. Brandon’s venomous voice slithered into my ear. “You think you’re so smart, don’t you?”
“Reasonably so,” I replied calmly. “Lovely presentation, by the way. Did you take acting classes at Dartmouth?”
“Yale,” he said stiffly. “And no, I did not. What you saw in there was pure business acumen.”
“Well, good for you.” I lifted my glass in a lazy salute.
