Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 106935 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 535(@200wpm)___ 428(@250wpm)___ 356(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106935 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 535(@200wpm)___ 428(@250wpm)___ 356(@300wpm)
I’m here for my business. I’m not here for a man.
No matter how fast my pulse continues to race.
2
I DON’T ALWAYS FOLLOW THE RULES
Nick
This is a perfect morning for a swim outdoors under the bright, blue sky, the sun’s rays warming my shoulders.
I freestyle my way down the pool for another glorious lap, shuddering at the thought of the gray skies waiting for me in London tomorrow when I return. I’m going to suck the juice out of every second here in the South Florida sun.
I should probably wear sunscreen. But I don’t always follow the rules.
I finish the final lap, running a hand over my hair as I climb out of the infinity pool at my older brother’s Miami Beach home. I grab a towel, and after I dry off my face, I tip my chin toward my brother. He’s stretched out on a lounge chair under an umbrella, shades on, holding the last of a delicious-smelling espresso beverage. “Man, what kind of service is this if there’s no Café Cubano waiting for me?”
Finn scoffs, the sun glinting off the few silver streaks in his dark hair. That’s new, but I don’t give him a hard time about it. My turn is coming.
“You get a free place to stay, Nick.” He sweeps out a hand, indicating the pool here at his second home. “You get a free pool to use. Now you need free fucking coffee?”
I stand over him and shake my wet hair, flinging droplets like a Saint Bernard. Okay, less than a Saint Bernard would, but still satisfying.
“You asshole!” He sits up, wipes his face, and holds up his cup. “If you got chlorine in my cup…”
“Aww, did I ruin your coffee?” I ask, faking remorse.
After he takes the final drink like a stoic bastard, he sets it down on the table next to him with a loud clink. He lies back on the lounge chair, parking his hands behind his head. “My morning was more peaceful when you were in the pool doing laps.”
“Ah, it must be good to live the unexamined life.” I toss the towel on my chair and sit down at the end of it, lifting my face briefly to the gorgeous orb in the sky.
“Maybe I’ve been examining your phone,” Finn counters.
That reminds me. Enough lounging. Stretching my arm, I grab the silver device from the table next to him. “Doubtful. It’s only got a twenty-five-character password.”
“Tech geek,” he mutters.
“That’s me,” I say dryly. More like finance geek. But I invest in tech so I can’t entirely dispute his accusation. As I tap in the twenty-five characters—memorized, since it’s not that hard to commit twenty-five characters to memory—I ask, “Did anyone call while I was swimming?”
“Am I your secretary?”
“I hope so.”
“Were you expecting your conference hookup to call?”
An image from yesterday flashes past me. Blonde hair. Red lips. A fearless gaze. Temptation personified. And a helluva test.
I shove that image away. “I don’t mess around at conferences. It’s distracting,” I toss back as I type.
“It might loosen you up a little bit,” he suggests, the jackass.
“I am not tightly wound,” I reply.
“Did you or did you not ask if anyone called the second you got out of the water?”
“That’s the normal time to ask,” I say. A lot can happen during a forty-five minute swim. I can’t afford to miss a deal, a chance, an opportunity.
“That’s tightly wound. That’s obsessed with business,” he says, like he’s offering a character assessment in a court of law, when the fucker’s exactly the same way. Hell, he runs in the same business circles I do.
But rather than fire off a takes one to know one reply, I simply shrug, owning my one true love—this company I built from the ground up over the last few years, thanks to my blood, sweat and tears. “Guilty as charged,” I say, sliding open the missed calls and hoping one of them is the one I want. “Anyway, I’m pretty sure hookups text instead of call. But that’s irrelevant, since the call I am expecting is from Vault saying yes to the term sheet we offered yesterday.”
I feel pretty damn good about that offer. It’s the kind that says we want to be your investor, we believe in your tech, and we will all get motherfucking rich off this deal if we play it right. If a term sheet could swagger, this one would.
I check the string of missed calls, and hallelujah. The first one’s local, from the hotshot twenty-five-year-old CEO of the encryption technology firm I met with yesterday.
Quickly, I read the voicemail transcript.
This is Jared Song calling to say we accept your venture firm’s offer.
“Hell yes,” I say, pumping a fist.
Finn sits up again, eyes sparking. He mouths an appreciative “nice” then offers a high-five.
I smack back as I read the next voicemail transcript. This is Valeria from the Innovation and Technology Leadership Summit. We spoke yesterday when you were part of our VIP one-on-one sessions.