Now that was suspicious.
“Good enough assets, and they want out?” “Not officially though, but they’ve been quietly shopping around.
It is pretty much still in-house, so if they sell, the news won’t spread too fast.” I nodded slowly.
That made sense.
If the Crosses could arrange the introduction privately, they could control the narrative.
They weren’t looking for buyers.
They were looking for the right buyer.
And if Lima Bank was actually considering selling, getting into the room before everyone else mattered.
“Who’s on top of it?” “Three siblings,” She slid another page across the desk.
“Two are on the board.
The youngest owns the largest private stake.
There’s a rumor though, of internal conflict.
Not much though, but just enough.” I smiled faintly.
Internal conflict was always useful.
People didn’t sell when they were happy.
They sold when they were tired.
“Is anyone else interested?” “Are you kidding me?
It’s Lima Bank.
Of course so many companies are interested, but only two have approached them.
Both from outside the country.
One of them’s Indian.” “Names?” She gave them.
I knew both.
Neither had the capital to make the acquisition attractive without outside financing.
Interesting.
“What do the Crosses get?” She smirked, crossing her arms over her chest.
“Together with Grant Industries, a nice percentage of the transaction.” “Of course.” I looked at the document again.
The numbers were interesting.
Very interesting.
But the event itself wasn’t.
I hated these things.
Too many people.
Too much noise.
Too many meaningless conversations that began with How are you and ended with We should do business sometime.
I had better things to do.
“This is good,” I waved at the documents, “but it doesn’t mean I’m going.” She smiled.
“It means you’re considering it.
Which is good enough for me.” “I’m considering the acquisition.” “Same thing, Roman,” she said, gathering the remaining papers.
“I’ll let you get busy.” At the door, she stopped again.
“Oh, you—” “I’m not hungry.” “Not an option, boss, I’m bringing you something.
But that’s not it.” I didn’t care what it was.
I wanted her out so I could make some calls.
“I’ve cleared your schedule for your getaway weekend.
Anything important will be online.” She paused.
“Also, an email arrived from the fundraiser you went to.” That caught me.
My head lifted.
She was scrolling through her tablet.
“They’re thanking you for the generous donation.
Their exact words, ‘we are immensely grateful’.” I frowned.
Donation.
That was one way to describe it.
“I’ve always known Miss Sterling could get you to do anything,” Brooklyn continued, “but making you donate forty million dollars for an artwork?” She looked at me.
“Impressive.” The door closed behind her, and finally silence settled over the office.
My eyes remained on the door.
Damn Brooklyn.
I’d spent the entire morning trying not to think about Megan, about the fundraiser, or about the fact that I’d actually spent forty million dollars on a woman I’d met twice, but she’d gone and destroyed everything.
Walking to the floor-to-ceiling window, I looked out.
The city stretched beneath the late-morning sun, all glass and steel and movement.
Cars moved through the streets like streams of metal, pedestrians hurried along sidewalks, and somewhere below me, thousands of people were occupied with their lives, good or bad.
Standing there helped me reclaim a little of the control that had been somehow slipping through my fingers these past few days.
Forty million dollars?
For a dance?
What?!
What had I been thinking?
And how was I not regretting it yet?
Not even a little.
That made it particularly worse.
Damn my assistant again.
I rubbed my jaw.
This was ridiculous.
I had a company worth billions.
A busy day ahead of meetings that would annoy the hell out of me, acquisitions to examine, and numbers to review.
I didn’t have time to obsess over a woman.
What the fuck, Roman?!
No.
I was not obsessing.
There was a difference.
A very small, completely insignificant difference.
I was simply thinking about her even though it was weird that I was.
My eyes returned to the city below.
Were they other people like me, standing or walking, with their minds as occupied as my own?
Were they thinking of black dresses, loose strands of hair and nonexistent makeup?
Were they thinking of big, bold eyes and a shy smile?
Like my sister, I was going crazy.
Why on earth had Riley invited her?!
Why had Megan agreed?
More importantly, why did I care?
I returned to my desk.
This madness was enough and it needed to stop.
But it didn’t, because the next moment I was searching through the drawer of my desk for her card.
What a spectacular failure.
My fingers found the small white card almost immediately, and I pulled it out.
NEWLIFE HOSPITAL Dr.
Megan Holt Emergency Medicine Turning the card over, I found the hospital’s contact.
And hers.
I placed the card on the desk, then picked it up again almost immediately.
My thumb moved over the printed numbers.
I leaned back.
What exactly was I doing mulling over whether to call her or not?
I should call the hospital instead, and leave a message.
That was probably the sensible option.
I hated sensible options.
She had given me her card anyway.
I picked up my phone.
Put it down.
Picked it up again.
And again returned it to the table.
I glanced at the clock.
12:04 p.m.
She’d probably be busy now with her patients.
It would be unreasonable to call.
I’ll just leave a message for her to reply later.
That would be better.
Unlocking my phone, I typed in her number.
My thumb hovered over the screen for a moment, then I typed the message.
‘Megan.
This is Roman Sterling.
I am picking up on the rain check you suggested.
There’s an event in two nights and you are accompanying me.
Eight o’clock.
Do not be late.’ I added the address to the hotel and hit ‘send’.
There.
That wasn’t so hard.
I didn’t care if she was busy that night.
She had left me with a rain check and I had every right to use it.
Besides, if I was going to endure the torture that was the Annual Cross event, it was only fair for someone else to endure it with me.
It was fair for Megan to endure with me.
I owned that much of her time after the money I spent, right?
A knock, and my door pushed open.
Someone from Brooklyn came with my meal.
I chased her out.