Page 42 of Remembering Passion

Ella leaned forward, offering me a nice view of the tops of her breasts. Perhaps I should institute a dress code, only low-cut necklines.

“Damien, are you listening?”

My lips quirked as my gaze met hers. “I was distracted. What were you saying?”

“I was saying that I am extremely interested in the campaign to partner between our fraternity and your coalition; however, due to our history—our personal history—I don’t believe I’m the best person for this position.”

“I disagree.”

Ella’s pink lips pursed as she exhaled. “If you truly want the partnership, who the liaison is shouldn’t be a factor.”

“Oh, but it is.” As I was about to retrieve her panties from my pocket, the door again opened. “Our meals are here.”

The Wagyu filet was tender enough to cut with a butter knife.

“This is delicious,” Ella said between forkfuls.

Simply having Gabriella across the table brought back a slew of memories I’d tried to tuck away, to forget. She might not see, or maybe had forgotten, the ways we were meant to be together, but I saw them. I remembered every one. Letting her go over two years ago was a mistake.

Mistakes happened.

I didn’t get where I was today by making mistakes and not righting them.

The response—what occurred next after the mistake—was what separated success and failure. Successful people had the tenacity to continue a quest.

While Sinclair Pharmaceuticals was first started by my great-grandfather, the company was headed for extinction before I could get my hands dirty. Darius was not the man to replace our dad. The entire fiasco of my brother’s short-term attempt at leadership left my father considering the eventual submission of Sinclair as a footnote of Big Pharma.

Not long after I began working at Sinclair, a newly hired chemist came to me with the news of a revolutionary chemical compound to treat PTSD. He was aware of the formula due to ongoing research at a local university. Appealing to my father, I went on the search for more information. The university’s research hadn’t reached the patent phase. Their findings were promising, yet not fully proven. While our new chemist was young and incredibly talented, he’d come across the research in a less-than-scrupulous manner.

Nevertheless, it was a breakthrough, and the university had not fully executed exclusivity. To claim the rights, Sinclair had to beat the university to the patent.

I convinced my father to pour more money into our own research utilizing the formulas that the university was testing. Even as small pharma, we had more financial resources than educational research. At the time, the market was wide open for such a medication.

As our research grew, the university abruptly shut theirs down. It was never determined why. Lack of funding and inconsistent results were listed publicly. The untimely deaths of key scientists involved in the department and the unexpected departure of others were no doubt key factors.

That was nearly five years ago—the cutthroat era Ella recalled earlier.

Today, my father and the other Sinclair shareholders were enjoying the fruits of my labor.

Despite the increasing threat of biotech, Sinclair Pharmaceuticals was growing more prominent in the world of medications. Our compound received its patent. The organic compound propanolamine, mutated at position one and three, was now available for prescription, recommended as an adjunct to therapy, not to be used without medical observation.

In the past four and a half years, under my control as CEO, the value of Sinclair Pharmaceuticals has tripled. Today, we’re one of the most profitable small pharma companies in the country. I’d proven myself—but I needed to do more. We needed more facilities and doctors willing to prescribe our treatment.

Darius was jealous that I’d succeeded where he failed. In another five months, that wouldn’t matter.

Tenacity.

I had it.

I’d succeeded because of it and planned to continue.

Staring at the beautiful woman across from me, I believed that tenacity would be the reason I achieved my goal of keeping Ella. She wasn’t a prize or a patent. She was the vibrant, intelligent, sensual woman whom I knew without a doubt would complete me.

She’d said that sex was never our problem, and yet at the hotel, she’d said she couldn’t do it again. I would convince her otherwise.

My intention was to accentuate the positive while pulling her into my sphere and giving her a place of her own where she could shine. Her potential was without bounds. Together we would be unstoppable.

Finishing our meal, Ella laid her napkin near her plate. “Thank you for a nice evening. I should be going.”

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