Page 20 of Due Diligence

“Why?” Cassie asked. She reached over and picked up her coat.

“Because I don’t think you give a shit about Libra. You told me that ten years ago—to my face. What could have changed in that amount of time?”

To my surprise, Cassie shrugged. “Maybe you’re right, maybe not.” She shook her head. “But humor me, before I go. Tell me why you and Alex created this app.”

I paused, two things sticking out to me. The first: The request sounded sincere. The second: She called him Alex. Not Lex.

I was the only one who had done that in years.

“We created Libra because we believed everyone has the right to try to better themselves, regardless of whether or not they can afford the exorbitant cost of education in this country. So, until someone can rein in the prohibitively expensive fees associated with college and grad school, it’s our responsibility to empower people to manage their debt in a smart and sensible way.”

As I spoke, she was nodding. “Let’s just say, that message means a lot more to me now. I can’t lose this job, Marcus.”

When I took in her expression, I was reluctant to admit that it looked sincere. Damn it. Just when I thought I could rid myselfof her for good, she had to do this. She had to bring up the one thing I cared about and tell me it meant something to her as well.

“You really think you’re that good?” I asked after a pause.

She nodded, her body relaxing at the same time. “Diligence is an art, not a science. Most people don’t realize it.”

Shaking my head, I let out a sigh. “Look, I’m going against every business instinct I have right now, but we can give this a shot. You’re on thin ice though, Cassie. I’m going to need total commitment from here on out.”

“Noted,” she said, her eyes locked on mine. “I won’t let you down.”

Chapter 7: Cass

The tension was palpable, like a thick, humid fog in the summer. It was in my throat. It settled on my shoulders and my collarbone. We had reached an agreement, but it was frail—swaying with the force of our pride. Day after day, we sat in that small conference room and we played our delicate game. Some days I triumphed; other days Marcus bested me.

We brought two completely different approaches to warfare to the table. Marcus had home team advantage and therefore had more resources at his disposal. One day, he caught me scraping the pickles off my sandwich and wrapping them up tightly in foil to mask their scent. The next day, he ordered lunch from a deli and requested one of those massive pickles, which he left sitting out on the conference table for the rest of the day. Another time, I wore a sleeveless sheath dress to the office. In response, he turned up the AC in the conference room so it was a lovely fifty-eight degrees.

But what I lacked in resources, I made up for in leverage. I was the one thing standing in the way of unfathomable wealth. Thus, if I wanted something, Marcus had no choice but to deliver. I told him the binders in the on-site data room needed to be color-coded by content, so he had to buy a new set from Staples after hours (or ask his executive assistant to work overtime to do it for him). I told him I needed him to replace all the hyphens in his file names with underscores, so Marcus had no choice but to spend seven hours straight updating every single file name.

Despite the way we sparred, we were actually productive once we got going. Marcus had a beat on every element of the company. No matter what I asked for, he had it ready and waiting for me. He anticipated my questions before I asked them and in the rare moments when I caught him off guard, he was quick to find his footing. If we were in the habit of exchanging compliments, I would have told him he was formidable. I got close to saying this a few times, but he always found a way to remind me we weren’t friends—and never would be.

On the second Friday in the due diligence process, he strolled into the conference room with a Bankers Box. When he dropped it onto the glass tabletop, the surface clanged and teetered with its weight. Startled, I looked up at Marcus, who had rolled the sleeves of his button-down shirt up over his hard forearms. His cheeks were pink from exertion, and he was grinning at me.

“Yes?” I asked, my eyes traveling between the Bankers Box and Marcus.

He patted the lid with his hand. “Legal docs,” he announced as he pushed a hand through his brown hair. “You ask, I deliver.”

“For the data room?” I confirmed, rising out of my chair to examine it.

“Yep,” he said, patting the lid a couple more times. “Everything that you asked for.”

When I was standing next to him, I could almost feel the heat radiating off his body. “Heavy?” I asked.

“That’s a decade of legalese,” he noted. “I can carry it over for you if that’s helpful. It needs to go into the data room, right?”

“Some help would be great.”

“No worries. Should I…”

“I’ll just have you walk it to the door and then I can bring it in.”

Marcus lifted the box, inhaling sharply as he hoisted it off the table. I opened the door for him and we headed over to his office on the opposite side of the building. When we got to his office, he put the box on the floor in front of the door. “This good?”

“Thanks,” I said as I opened it with Marcus’s key. Once the door was open, I pushed the box into the office; he was right. It was incredibly heavy, and it took me a few shoves to get it out of the way of the door.

“Hey, just a sec,” Marcus commented from the doorway where he stood. Per my instructions, he was careful not to step over the threshold of the data room.

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