Page 8 of One Time in Paris
How in the hell was he supposed to go to London with this news?
But the truth was that he had fucked up. He had made such a disaster of the Ipolymer acquisition, however unintentionally.
“You want my advice?” Felix asked unhelpfully.
Aiden’s drink arrived, and he lifted the glass. “Is it the kind I ask for, or the kind you give anyway?”
“Just make nice with Lola until the acquisition is secured. After that, it’ll be a done deal. You can break up with her—again—or divorce her, or whatever the hell it takes. But business is business. At the end of the day, sure, you shouldn’t have gotten involved with her, but now that you can’t unfuck that mess, you may as well enjoy yourself until you get what you want out of the deal. You could do a hell of a lot worse than Lola Salas.”
Aiden’s jaw flexed.
Christ. That’s what passed for romantic endorsement now? What a charming approach to corporate strategy—marry, merge, move on.
He’d worried about this sort of thing when he’d considered leaving the military and taking over at Camden. He wasn’t a paragon of morality, but he had standards. Ethics.
His father had built this company from the ground up. If not for the stroke, Arthur Camden would still be at the helm—gruff and demanding but honest. Aiden could respect that. What he couldn’t respect was this underhanded bullshit.
No wonder Quinn had bolted off to save the world with philanthropy while Aiden was stuck saving the balance sheets.
Second-born, second-choice, and just the sort to live this interminable, soulless monotony until he became just as rotten as the colleagues around him.
After secondary school, he’d tossed his reputation to the wolves by trying to save Ciara, a family friend, from humiliation after she’d wound up pregnant by some bastard who’d abandoned her. Aiden had claimed the baby was his and ruined his family’s faith in him. Ciara had miscarried, but the damage was done.
He’d already joined the British Army’s Intelligence Corps and was gone.
For six years, he tried to earn back credibility by completing a secondment with MI5 and developing counterterrorism and diplomatic security skills. It was enough to impress his father when Aiden was needed for the CEO role at Camden, but not enough to shear the wool as the black sheep of the family.
And maybe someday, I’ll be just as soulless as they believe. But not today.
He slung his drink back, slammed the glass on the bar top, and stood. “I’m not for sale, Felix. If your company is so worried about my so-calledbad behavior,surely getting involved with Lola Salas for a fifth time won’t impress anyone. Good night.”
Without giving Felix a chance to respond, Aiden left, searching for the exit. He needed to go outside and get a breath of fresh air.
Today had been a catastrophe from start to finish. The conference hadn’t started so terribly—Pinnacle was always one of the most notable events he attended. He’d spoken yesterday and been on a panel, and everything had felt surprisingly ...positive.
But after today, all he wanted to do was cancel his meetings for tomorrow, get the first flight out, and go spend the weekend somewhere—anywhere—else.
Of course, he couldn’t do that.
He had duties. Responsibilities. His family’s business weighed on his shoulders.
Perhaps the mistake had been assuming he was cut out for this in the first place.
When he started working at Camden five years ago, even his father hadn’t been certain he would be dependable. But Aiden had wanted to prove him wrong, show his worth. After the disaster with Ciara from his foolish teenage years, everyone had painted him as a villain anyway.
That’s what you get for being soft.
Maybe he just wasn’t cut out for this.
Or maybe Felix was right.
He’d made a mess of things. Maybe the easiest way out was playing the game—just long enough to win.
But was he really willing to sink to that level?
He didn’t have to like doing it, but it wasn’t really his fault, was it? Lola and her father were the ones who blurred the lines between business and personal where they shouldn’t have.
The cool night air struck his flushed face as he walked out, heading for the Strip.
