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“Because the buyout is a business matter,” I say. “And not… whatever this is.”
I’m a fucking idiot. The hurt in her face is so apparent that I can feel it, too.
“Whatever this is?” she repeats, her voice almost breaking.
“I mean… this is… complicated,” I say. “We can agree on that, can’t we?”
She doesn’t respond to that, but brings the drink back up to her lips, taking such a large swig, that the glass is almost empty, when she brings it back on the counter top. Her pretty face is shrouded with sadness and defeat, and a drip of water pearls from a loose strand of her wet hair, landing on the counter like a heavy tear.
I need to comfort her before there are real tears following.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” I say, and when I reach for her hand, she doesn’t pull back. “I really don’t, Madison, because I… I think, I may… I mean…”
For fuck’s sake. I can’t say it, I just can’t. But why? What the hell is wrong with me? Why am I being such a pussy? It shouldn’t be this hard to tell a girl that you like her, well, more than like her.
The expression on her face is tense and stern, her lips pressed into a thin line and her eyes locked on mine, while she waits for the end of a sentence that doesn’t come. I deflate with a long sigh, shaking my head, as if I was acknowledging defeat.
“You know that every day at the office has become a nightmare ever since this started?” she says. “I feel like it has turned into a battlefield, and I’m constantly fending off attacks from my uncle and his minions.”
“I’m sorry for—”
“As if this hasn’t been hard enough for me already,” she goes on. “Do you have any idea how hard it is to be a 27-year old woman in my position? A position that my father would never have given me if he didn’t think I was capable.”
“I’m sure you are more than capable. I never doubted that for a second, Madison,” I say. “You’re amazing.”
That’s the understatement of the year, but at least I was able to say it without turning into a stuttering kid.
“Well, most men don’t agree with that assessment, my uncle included,” she says in a bitter voice. “All he can see is a stupid little girl, who took something away from him. And now, he’s even threatening to sabotage the investment in our new 3d technology now.”
“He’s what?” I ask, my interest piqued.
“Oh, yeah, you can’t be happy to hear that either,” she says, tilting her head to the side. “I mean, this is why you want to buy us in the first place, right?”
“You know it,” I retort.
“Well, if my uncle acts on his threat, you won’t get what you want either,” she goes on. “He’s vindictive like that, and obviously thinks he can wear me down with that threat because it would kill years of work. No one would win in that scenario, not even him. He just thinks it will never get that far.”
“He’s wrong,” I say. “That’s just foul behavior on his part, not good business practice.”
“Then why are you on his side?!” she asks, almost yelling.
Her knuckles turn white as her hands clasp the glass with such force that I’m almost worried it might break.
“I’m not on anybody’s side!” I argue.
“Well, you’re certainly not on mine, are you?” she says, thankfully letting go of the glass to cross her arms in front of her chest.
“That’s not fair,” I say. “You know I’m in a difficult position here, too.”
“Not as difficult as mine,” she interjects.
And, frankly, it’s hard to disagree with that. She may not have had my struggles growing up, and unlike me, she didn’t have to work her way out of poverty. But my struggles are behind me. I’m well-respected in the industry, and I no longer have to fight for recognition now that I hold more money and power than most other men. I’m seen as someone who belongs in their world.
But the same never holds true for a woman, especially at such a young age.
“I’m not going to argue with you,” I say, unsure where I’m trying to go with this. She’s right, after all. We can’t ignore the problem forever.
“I just… don’t see a way out of this right now,” I go on, catching her distraught eyes with mine.
