Page 25 of Devilish Bully
“Great to meet a member of the team!”
“We’re so excited about your upcoming IPO!”
Greetings come at me from every direction, and I fake a smile, nodding like this is normal.
It’s not until I catch a server off to the side that I finally get answers.
“Hey,” I whisper. “Why is this happening here instead of in, I don’t know, a ballroom?”
“Good question.” She lowers her voice. “We were supposed to set up in the Everglades—two hours out—but Mr. Pearson called this morning and said he needed to be back home by nine. So we packed up and moved it here. Must be nice being a billionaire, huh?”
She slips away before I can respond, leaving me stunned.
He didn’t. He couldn’t have moved the entire thing just for me…
I grab a champagne flute from a tray, trying to process, but then Lucian and the rest of the board sweep in, shaking hands and taking pictures with potential shareholders like they’re celebrities.
“Please don’t take offense to this, and I swear it’s not a pickup line, but you look tense.”
A man appears in front of me, extending his hand. “Dr. Walters. Hot Sand Physical Therapy.”
“I am tense.” I shake his hand. “Kendall Clarke, Pearson Industries.”
“Ah. Makes sense.” He smiles. “Not every day you get to be part of something this big, huh?”
“Tell me about it…” I mutter, feeling an ache in my neck—though maybe it’s less tension and more the sight of Lucian pretending he’s a nice guy for more than five minutes.
“My son dragged me down here to meet the board. He swears this stock is the one to buy the moment it goes live.”
“It’ll probably make a lot of money,” I admit.
“Here.” He slips me a business card. “I own a sister clinic in New Jersey—an hour out from Manhattan. I’ll work you out for free.”
“Really?”
“Well, kind of free.” His grin widens. “You’ll have to give me some insight into what I’m buying into.”
“I’ll explain everything I know.” I smile, pocketing the card. “What days are you open? Would it be okay if I?—”
“Excuse me.”
Lucian steps between us, his hand closing around mine before I can finish. “Can I speak to you in private, Miss Clarke?”
“I’m in the middle of a conversation with a potential shareholder,” I point out. “Give me five minutes.”
“Okay.” His grip tightens, unyielding, and he drags me away from the crowd into a side office cluttered with pilot gear.
The moment the door clicks shut, I yank my hand back.
“What the hell is your problem, and why do you keep saying ‘okay’ to me?”
“Because I thought we were finally on good terms. Clearly, you’ve been lying.”
“All the money you’ve got, and you haven’t booked an appointment for those mood swings?” I cross my arms. “Maybe try that.”
“I’m glad you’re acknowledging that I have feelings.”
“I saidmood swings.‘Feelings’ are what you trample whenever someone talks to you like a human being.”
