Page 16 of Meet Me In The Dark
“What did you say?”
“That it was a compliment, not harassment.”
I give her a sidelong glance. “Flattery won’t get you out of staying late tonight.”
“I wasn’t trying to get out of anything. I just like your face.”
“I’m keeping you forever, you know.”
“Legally, I don’t think you can say that to an employee.”
“Try me.”
She barks a laugh as we reach my office.
“Okay, rundown,” she says, eyes scanning her tablet. “You’ve got a strategy meeting at eleven, a finance check-in at two. The CEO roundtable has been moved to tomorrow.” Her voice flattens slightly. “And Tom Kingsley wants to have dinner Friday night.”
I halt mid-step. “No.”
“No?”
“No,” I repeat. “He’s a fucking leech.”
“Yeah, I know, but are you sure? He keeps pestering. Something about wanting to ‘mend fences.’”
“I don’t know what part of‘go screw yourself’he didn’t understand.”
She hums and taps something into her tablet, already dismissing the request.
Kingsley. Jesus.
The guy’s been circling like a buzzard ever since the Blackwood & Calloway headquarters project went public. He tried to wine and dine us early on, but it didn’t take long for us to see the desperation behind all that smug, polished bullshit.
Turns out we were right.
His firm might still appear prestigious, but cracks are starting to show. He took over the business adecade ago. Now, the whole operation is bleeding out. He’s drowning in lawsuits, hemorrhaging cash, and trying to drag anyone down with him who’ll bite.
He visited us last quarter and attempted to pitch a miracle comeback, hoping to get us to invest. He even handed over doctored financials as if we were fools. He claimed a new architect was joining the team, set to “revolutionize the brand”. Said we would be stupid not to jump in now, while the opportunity was hot.
What he really wanted was a bailout—a big, shiny corporate life raft.
Besides, that’s not what we do. Not anymore.
In the beginning, Nathan and I played the game—quick stocks, short-term flips, trying to look like we belonged in a room full of men who wouldn’t have pissed on us five years earlier. But once we made it, we swore we wouldn’t become them.
Now we invest in neighborhoods that others try to bulldoze. Neighborhoods like the ones we grew up in. We rebuild. We play the long game, with slow returns and soul behind them. Sure, we still take struggling billionaire companies, strip them down, restructure, and sell them for parts, but we don’t do it blindly, and we sure as hell don’t rescue cowards like Kingsley who pretend their ship isn’t sinking while rats are clawing through the hull.
Avery shrugs. “Wouldn’t it be better to meet him and just make it clear in person?”
“I’ve already made it clear.”
“Clearer.”
I shoot her a look. “No. I have plans on Friday.”
Her finger freezes mid-scroll. “You don’t have any work engagements.”
“It’s not work.”
