Page 6 of His Rules

“I’m curious why you believe they dropped so quickly when the quarterly financials haven’t been released.”

“You’re the fucking CFO. You should know.” Drake’s eyes flared.

He was right that I should have a better handle on what the fuck was going on with the company I’d started. “The market is down and has been for over eighteen months.” That was true enough, but the situation was about more than just being unable to win a couple of contracts. I was at a loss for why clients who’d been repeat buyers were suddenly heading in other directions.

Huffing, I sneered at him before slamming my fisted hands on my desk. Yes, he was right as he usually was. Drake Caffrey was the calm while I was the storm. That’s one reason our partnership had worked so well over the years. We’d faced more than our share of challenges, but this one had the chance of forcing us to close our doors.

I refused to allow that to happen. We’d worked too hard over twenty years to create a powerhouse in the industry. Yes, profits were down, partially because of the continued trickledown effect of COVID. However, travel was back up and more and more billionaires were purchasing private jets.

An ugly truth hung just below the cobwebs. I’d allowed my personal life to interfere, which had left me distracted. That was finished.

“Did you go over the numbers again?” Drake asked, trying to defuse the situation.

“Several times. There’s no smoking gun, buddy. Our profits are down because we’re not selling shit. That’s up to the marketing department to figure out.” I looked him directly in the eye. He knew what I was thinking.

Another ugly truth was that neither one of us had our eye on the ball and hadn’t for over a year. We’d been resting on our laurels.

If he spent more time at the office and less time with his handful of girlfriends, maybe we’d have more contracts lined up. He was in charge of marketing, but preferred playing the CEO role, including for the cameras. It drove me nuts.

His eyes reflected his anger, but he backed down, even looking the other way. He knew better than to get into an argument with me. I always won and I was always right. “Fine, Sebastian. Have it your way. Be angry. Blame me. You’re the goddamn CFO.”

“So you keep reminding me. I noted the red flags months ago.” Months. Well over a year at this point. Then I’d clocked out of my own job mentally. “I’ve worked long hours, nights and weekends included to try and keep us afloat. I cut costs, staff, and that was never my intention when I opened the doors to this company.”

He shoved his hand into his pocket. “You might have opened it, but I am your full partner now. That’s something for you to remember. We need to work together to find out why our clients are dropping off. If you had a nicer personality, it’s quite possible you’d find something to work with you so your load could be lifted. And congratulations on the great award. Man of the Year. Imagine that.”

His tone was dripping with sarcasm. He’d been up for the award as well.

“As if I give a shit.”

“God knows, you need to get yourself a life. What’s not to enjoy?” he demanded.

I didn’t answer.

“Fuck this. I’m headed out.” He threw his other hand in my direction before heading for my office door, pitching it open as forcefully as I’d done in the conference room.

Our arguments never lasted, but I was fearful our friendship had been hurt by the constant bickering. He was right about one thing. I did need to get a life. Yes, I loved working long hours and had my entire adult life, but one year had slipped into another.

I pounded my fist on the desk and was certain I heard moans coming from one of the administrators. This shit had to stop.

I grabbed my keys. It was time for a drink.

“Goodnight, Mr. Winfield,” one of the girls dared say to me.

For a split second I thought about stopping and asking if I had a gruff demeanor, but thought otherwise. I knew I did and had prided myself on separating business from pleasure. I’d done so successfully over the years. I’d also been careful about having my photograph taken by reporter hounds.

Until the night before. Christ. Why had I attended that goddamn event? My picture had been plastered on various social pages with the Man of the Year in bold lettering.

Unfortunately, Drake didn’t follow the same rule. He craved the attention, thriving on seeing his photograph in whatever ragtag news would have him. In our early years, it was the reason our firm hadn’t been taken seriously. But we were older and supposedly wiser. Another round of bullshit.

As I stepped into the elevator with thoughts of heading home, I had a change of heart. When was the last time I’d bought myself a drink in my favorite bar? At least a few months.

And more important, when was the last time I’d allowed myself to engage in the company of a beautiful woman? Longer than I could remember.

After the shitty day, that’s exactly what I intended on doing.

The Moonrise Hotel in the heart of the entertainment district was trendy, a favorite watering hole for the young and the young at heart. I certainly didn’t fall into one of those categories and I’d dare say everyone who knew me realized the second had never been and would never be true either. Guests who stayed often commented about the hotel’s eclectic atmosphere, including the vibrant mosaic tiles lining the stairs.

The rooftop bar had spectacular views of the city, the best drinks, and was also a fabulous place for people watching. That’s what I needed, not heading home to an empty house. The estate on several acres had been the perfect choice when designed, built and purchased over ten years before. Now it seemed like an anchor around my neck.

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