Page 9 of By the Letter

Chapter Four

Roman

I’d held my brotheroff for a month, which had been a miracle in itself. Ben was a dog with a bone. When he wanted something, he didn’t give it up, and he’d been vying for a look at our new investment, specifically the CEO, but I’d managed to keep him away. GoldMed was going through enough changes without Ben showing up to create chaos.

“Don’t talk to anyone,” I reminded him.

Ben held up his hands as if anyone would buy his innocence. Certainly not me. I knew him too well. He’d been up to no good all thirty-two years of his life. “Oh, believe me, I’ll be on my best behavior,” he claimed.

I sucked in a sharp breath through my nose. “Tell me why that doesn’t reassure me in any way.”

He chuckled, leaning forward to hit the button for the tenth floor even though the elevator was already ascending toward it.

“That’s because you know me, Romeo.” He bounced on his toes, hands tucked in his pockets. “I’m only messing with you. I just want to see what all the fuss is about. I’ll keep my mouth shut.”

I didn’t bother reminding him not to call me Romeo, the nickname I’d been dubbed in my rugby-playing days. Ben had heard it once and he’d run with it despite the fact it’d been six years since I’d been on a team. Fortunately, he was the only person who still called me that, but dear god, did it rankle me. He was well aware of it too, and that was exactly why I refused to react.

Ben followed me when we arrived on the tenth floor of the Levy building. I greeted the floor’s receptionist, Rita, who’d been with GoldMed since its inception, and introduced her to Ben.

“Did you have a nice lunch, Mr. Wells?” she asked.

“I did. Unfortunately, I picked up a straggler on my way back.” Her fiery red eyebrows popped as she glanced from Ben to me. I put my hand on his shoulder, grinning. “This is Ben Wells, my brother.”

Ben held up a finger. “His younger, more handsome brother.”

Her eyes darted back and forth between us. Rita was sharp as a tack. She didn’t fall for Ben’s joke. Given the fact we shared a face, it’d be hard for anyone to fall for it.

“By how many minutes?” she asked.

“Four,” I answered. Four minutes might not have seemed like a huge age gap to most, but Ben took his role as the younger twin seriously.

He slung his arm over my shoulders and winked at Rita. “You didn’t say anything about me being the more handsome one.”

She sat up straight, a glimmer in her eye. “I wouldn’t want to insult you. We’ve only just met.”

Laughing, I thanked her and steered Ben away from her desk. “Remember when you said you were going to keep your mouth shut?”

“I’m not allowed to greet our employees?”

“They’re not ‘our’ employees,” I reminded him.

“Not yet, right?”

I didn’t reply, but he didn’t need it. Swiveling his head, he took in the bland cubicles and hush of the employees. My first day here a month ago, the quiet had been what I’d noticed first. Not that it had been hard to miss. With my three brothers as partners, I’d invested in many companies the last few years, and I’d yet to come across an office without a constant din of conversation.

GoldMed, a medical supply company started by Frank Goldman nearly four decades ago, was now run by his young widow, Shira. From the research I’d done, the company had been on the decline for the last decade but took a sharp plunge when Frank passed just over a year ago.

I’d bought GoldMed’s debt with the intent of turning the company around or selling it for parts if the situation was more hopeless than I thought. For the last month, I’d been working out of GoldMed’s offices, fully immersing myself in the company to get a handle on exactly what was going wrong.

My presence wasn’t welcomed by everyone, but in my line of work, I was used to chilly receptions. Blustering men who couldn’t bear admitting they needed help didn’t like the man who strode in from the outside, acquiring their debt and a controlling interest in their companies. Shifting that kind of attitude was my forte. The ones who refused to change were out the door.

With GoldMed, I’d pinpointed the biggest problem before walking through the entrance. It was only a matter of time before I could do what I needed to.

We neared my office, and the door next to it opened. Two women emerged. Terry Burns, a Black woman in her sixties who’d been Frank Goldman’s PA for two decades, and Shira Goldman, the current CEO. Terry was now Shira’s assistant and, as far as I could tell, the only person Shira deigned to speak to on any sort of regular basis. In fact, they were so attached, I rarely saw Shira without Terry.

Their heads were tipped toward each other, Shira’s mouth moving while Terry nodded and laughed. Seeing Shira’s face so animated was disconcerting, especially since it normally was locked in a tight line.

“That has to be her,” Ben murmured. “Funny, she doesn’t look like a trophy wife.”

---