Page 14 of Bad for Business
CAMILLE
“You know,next time you want to get rid of me, just remember that it’s pointless,” I tell Ryker as he takes a seat in the chair across from mine.
“It was wishful thinking,” he gripes, sitting back in his chair with a resigned sigh.
“You’re making it harder on yourself by arguing. Just accept that it’s my job to know what’s best for you and listen to me.”
Ryker’s brown eyes focus on me. He’s quiet for a moment and I wait for him to respond, watching the muscle along his clenched jaw tick. His fingertips dance along the tablecloth as he thinks through his answer. Then, just when I think he won’t comply, he reaches across the table and taps the edge of the binder I brought.
“So tell me your plan, and I’ll tell you what I think.”
I watch him carefully for a moment. Part of me wants to tell him he doesn’t really have a choice, but I appreciate the fact that he isn’t arguing with me right now. I’ll bite my tongue if it means we can finally get something done.
I move my notepad to the side and scan over the notes I already put into the binder. Last night, I printed off some headlines about him, wanting to highlight the ones I felt weremore concerning in terms of how they look to the board at Davenport Media.
“I’ve spent time looking at what’s been said about you. The good news is, I don’t think this is something we can’t fix. Yeah, some of it looks bad, but at the end of the day, I think you can regain the trust and confidence of the board.”
Ryker nods. “I know I can. I’ll make it right.”
The smallest sigh of relief leaves me at his words. His tone with me might still have a bit of a bite, but at least for right now, he seems serious about getting back into the good graces of his board.
I flip to the next page in the binder, looking for the list I created. “Of the nine board members, seven of them are confirmed to be spending the summer here.”
“How do you know that?” he asks, leaning forward slightly. I don’t want to get my hopes up, but he actually seems interested in the conversation.
I lift one of my shoulders. “I did some research. These two”—I point to pictures of two men at the bottom of the page—“I couldn’t figure out if they’ll be in the Hamptons or not. This one’s a member, the other isn’t, but it’s possible he could attend as a guest with someone else. I’ll keep an eye out.”
“I just want to know how you got all of this information. Member records aren’t public, let alone travel plans for the summer.”
I look up from the paper and meet his gaze. His eyes are slightly narrowed on me as he watches me closely, waiting for me to answer his question.
I sigh and adjust my position in my chair to get comfortable. “It’s my job to know things, Ryker. I’m resourceful. Let’s talk about how you can impress the seven members we know will be here.”
Ryker leans back and holds his hands up playfully. “All I need to do is to be myself. That’ll have them.” He gives me a smug smile.
I can’t help but laugh at his words. “You don’t actually think that, do you?”
His smile falters slightly. “Sure I do. I haven’t been on my best behavior recently, but I still grew up with these people. I know them. I know their expectations, and I know how to convince them that I can do what they expect of me.”
“You still need my help. You had the chance to impress them on your own, and you blew it.”
“I’m well aware,” he mutters, his tone tired.
I flip back to the page with some of the worst headlines. My eyes scan over the paper. I already know these articles by heart, but I’m nervous about the next question I want to ask Ryker, so I’m stalling.
“In the last eight months, things have gotten a little more reckless than they used to be. Why?”
Pembroke Grill isn’t busy since the Hamptons season hasn’t even technically started, so because of that, I hear the sharp breath Ryker takes in at my question.
He lets out a long sigh before scrubbing his hands over his face. I give him the time he needs to answer my question, knowing whatever the answer may be might help me do my job.
Ryker’s warm brown eyes settle on me. I know he’s thirty and a grown man, but there’s something vulnerable about the way he stares at me now.
“My mother passed away.”
My mouth falls open as my next breath gets stuck in my chest. I blink a few times. Out of all the things I was expecting him to say, it wasn’t that.
“I’m sorry,” I manage to get out. My mind races through all the articles I looked up about him. Not once did I see anything about his mother passing away.
