Total pages in book: 224
Estimated words: 215705 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1079(@200wpm)___ 863(@250wpm)___ 719(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 215705 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1079(@200wpm)___ 863(@250wpm)___ 719(@300wpm)
We are met by security, who lead us to a second-level conference room. Inside, we’re greeted by Grayson, and another man, both in tuxedos. Grayson’s particularly handsome in his, quite able to inspire the tall, dark, and handsome cliché, while the other man, who is in his late thirties I estimate, has wavy light brown hair and looks that inspire more of a ruggedly good-looking observation.
“This is Eric Mitchell,” Grayson says, indicating the man. “He’s my right-hand man, and considering he’s made himself a millionaire many times over managing my investments, I want him in on the meeting. I trust him.”
There is the traditional shaking of hands, and I note that Eric has a black and gray tattoo sleeve peeking from his jacket. My gaze meets his and he arches a brow as if wanting me to ask about it. I don’t. I simply find it interesting. Grayson isn’t the ink kind of guy, at least I didn’t think he was, and I actually think Eric’s obvious differences make both men more interesting.
“Let’s sit,” Grayson says, indicating the large rectangular table.
My next surprise is that Grayson doesn’t choose the endcap, but rather a spot across from me and beside Eric. “Ask the question, Carrie,” Eric says.
Reid glances down at me. “What’s he talking about?”
“Me looking at his tattoo sleeve.” I shift my attention to Eric. “An observation doesn’t require a question. I don’t have one.”
“Just a judgment.”
“So you want my judgment, not a question. Is that what you’re used to getting?”
All three men just look at me and then they all laugh. “I told you she’s priceless,” Reid says, looking at Grayson and squeezing my leg under the table.
My hand covers his and the knowledge that he has spoken positively about me confirms the trust I have in Reid and contradicts all those words my father spoke this morning.
“Indeed,” Eric agrees. “What is your judgment, Carrie?”
“That you and Grayson are different, but alike in ways that make you both interesting.”
“As are you, Carrie,” Eric says.
“Tell us what you have for us,” Grayson says.
“An opportunity of a lifetime,” Reid says. “A deal that was brought to Carrie, but she’s nervous about Asia.”
“I’ve been burned there,” I chime in. “But Reid has brought solid financing to this deal. He has contacts I don’t, and I feel like that can balance this project out. It’s a convention center in Japan.” I glance at Reid to see if he wants to continue.
“It’s your baby,” he says. “You explain it all.”
I dive into my pitch and we all chat for a good hour or more. Grayson glances at Eric. “I could fund it myself.”
“Why? Limit your liability, spread out your assets.” Eric looks between us. “I need to do due diligence but it’s intriguing.”
That’s when Reid takes over. “How intriguing? This is hush-hush and time-sensitive. I’ve brought big money to the table. We’re doing this with or without you. If you want another proposal—”
“No,” Grayson says. “We’ll let you know in twenty-four hours, but on first glance, I’m in. No matter our decision, we’ll grant you a number of test cities outside this project that you can grow upon.”
“I’ll put together the agreement,” Eric says. “We’ll do this other deal separately.”
I want to jump for joy, but Reid remains cautious. “Twenty-four hours. We need to move on this.”
Grayson’s lips quirk. “Understood.”
We all stand and the shaking of hands begins again. “Please enjoy the party,” Grayson says, while Eric holds onto my hand and doesn’t let go.
“Military and then Harvard.”
He releases me. “Interesting,” I say, and he laughs.
A few minutes later, Reid and I are walking down the hallway. “We’re going to make our goal.”
“Yes, baby, we are.”
“We did good.”
“Yes. We did. And you,” he adds, “charmed the room.”
“We do the good cop, bad cop thing pretty well.”
He laughs. “Yes, we do.”
I revel in his laughter that I know now has not been frequent for Reid, and while I still don’t know why, I feel one day I will. We arrive at the party, a huge ballroom with chandeliers and tables filled with clusters of people in formalwear everywhere I look. Reid and I accept champagne and toast to our success. “Panties or no panties?”
“You have to wait to see.”
“Then drink up. We made a showing. Let’s get out of here.”
“We have to stay a respectable amount of time.”
He groans. “Right. That respectable time thing I hate so fucking much.” He downs his bubbly. “Let’s mingle.”
It’s an hour later and Reid and I are on the dance floor, our bodies closer than is “respectable,” but I don’t care.
His hand caresses my back. “Let’s go home.”
Home.
His home, but the word is spoken as if we share a home, and it does funny things to my stomach. “Yes. Let’s go home, but do we need to find Grayson and say goodbye?”