Page 26 of Easy Reunion
Chapter 12
Rierson—Three Days Earlier
“What the hell do you mean they’re trying to back out of the deal?” I demand. This contract with Larruscain has taken months to sign. The revenue from the Barcelona-based imports company is going to be one of the highest non-ship building revenue generators for Bayou Enterprises for the next twenty years. And I shepherded that baby along since I started at Bayou years ago only to be blocked as we get down to the final contract signing. Which is supposed to happen later this month.
“I don’t know, Ry. Something about wanting to revisit the marketing permissions one final time before we put pen to ink,” Carol, one of the executive vice presidents in marketing, tells me agitatedly.
“Find out what they’re looking for. You have…” I lift my wrist. “Three days. Otherwise, I’m going to ask Beau, Eli, and Van if they want to kill the deal.” And likely my job along with it, I think grimly.
The same thought must pass through Carol’s head because she quickly shuts the top of her laptop and heads for the door.
Jesus, between my father last night trying to change a tire on a two-ton vehicle, and now this? I snap up my phone and scroll through my recent calls.
There it is, taunting me from when I used her phone to call mine. Missed Call: Kelsey Kennedy.
I don’t want to say everything I have to say to her over text, but I need to say something. For far too long, there have been words left unspoken between us. I burnt a lot of bridges with what I did on graduation day. The only thing that’s even giving me a chance is the spark we set off when we’re with each other.
Cupping my phone between both hands while I debate what to type, I wonder if the emotions between us were always there and I didn’t recognize them for what they were. I was a stupid kid of eighteen. I wanted nothing more than to escape the hell of Forsyth Academy.
But even if she hadn’t turned into the knockout she is, I’d hope if we’d run into each other at the reunion, I’d have seen her for what she is.
Fucking amazing.
Just as I’m about to send her a message, Eli barges into my office. “Tell me what the hell is going on with Larruscain,” he demands.
As I stand, my phone clatters to my desk, forgotten. Snatching up my laptop, I motion him over to the small table in my office. “They’re looking for additional permissions in these territories where they feel Bayou doesn’t have a stronger presence.”
“Bullshit,” he says succinctly.
I couldn’t agree more.
* * *
It takesus up to the last minute to ferret out someone at Larruscain was trying to nickel-and-dime the contract because they didn’t want the appearance that Bayou was taking them over. “If they want to see a takeover, then we’ll put that on the agenda next,” Eli grumbles.
“I just want to see the inside of my eyelids,” I moan. I haven’t seen my house, my bed, or taken a call not related to this contract in the last seventy-two hours. Even Lisa, who usually can get through in a heartbeat, has been relegated to dealing with my assistant.
He laughs before answering his cell. “Hey,bebe. No, I did not forget you and Simon were leaving for England tomorrow.” There’s a brief pause. “All right. I’ll stop at your place and then the store on my way home.” Hanging up, he drags himself to his feet. At one time, Eli and I used to practically live in these offices hammering out deals. Those days have long passed, and we look like we’ve been through a shipwreck. “Come on. I’ve arranged for a car, but I have to stop by Charly’s on the way home.”
“Can sleep here,” I mutter into my arms. This is quite possibly the most truthful statement I’ve ever uttered. I’m already in that Zen-like state right before the drool starts trickling.
“You look like shit and need a real bed,” he tells me bluntly.
“Asshole.” I shove myself to my feet. “I don’t smell.”
“Yet. You forgot to add ‘yet’ to the end of that for it to be an accurate statement.”
Flipping him the bird, I quickly slip my laptop and a few files into my briefcase. I grab my suit coat and frown down at it. “Didn’t I wear this yesterday?”
Eli lets out a deep laugh. “You’ve been wearing that suit for three days. This is why I don’t trust you behind the wheel of a car.”
Three days? “Holy shit? Three days?” Frantically, I shove my hand into my suit pocket and scroll through the multitude of text messages I’ve received. Mom, Dad—letting me know he’s all right—Lisa, varying people from the office.
Not a single word from Kelsey.
“I’m fucked,” I moan.
Peering over my shoulder, nosy bastard Eli remarks, “Missing a message?”
