Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 96454 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 482(@200wpm)___ 386(@250wpm)___ 322(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96454 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 482(@200wpm)___ 386(@250wpm)___ 322(@300wpm)
Lance Norfolk. He’s tall and thin, proof that he spends an enormous amount of time at CrossFit gyms across the country. He could afford to go private but he likes to show off, and he loves his own celebrity. He’s also a litigious motherfucker. The only thing he loves more than his washboard abs is a good lawsuit.
“Yeah, I know him. Hasn’t he been on that investor show?” Heath asks. “He’s kind of mean.”
“He’s the dude most likely to one day buy a private island, start a weird sex cult, and get his own dedicated Netflix documentary. We’ll steer clear of him.” I see someone I don’t want to steer clear of. “Hey, give me a minute. I’ll be right back. Do not give anyone a percentage of our company.”
Heath’s eyes widen like how dare I, but I dare because he gave me forty percent without a deep dive, so I can only imagine what will happen if Lance or Ishaan get hold of him.
Or they might take one look at his work and let him swim right by. That’s what I need to figure out, and the man in the tux at the back of the room by the stairs is exactly the one to tell me.
Benjamin Johnson. He’s a stately-looking gentleman. I joke about how old he is because he often does, too. He’s told me he’s been around since the Gilded Age, and that’s how he knows every family in New York. The truth is Benjamin—I would never call him Ben—was born in Harlem in 1951, and he’s a living, breathing history of the civil rights movement. He was friends with CeCe’s older brother, who joined him on a bridge in Montgomery, Alabama, and then a hospital afterward. I often wonder if they were more than friends, but I don’t ask. Craig died in the eighties, and shortly after that CeCe’s husband passed as well. After George died, Benjamin and CeCe figured out how to turn a small inheritance into billions. He was her CFO for a long time but now has his own firm, though they often work together.
He’s one of my favorite humans in the world, and that is a very short list.
His normally placid look is replaced with a smile as I approach. “Look who’s come home to grace us with her presence. How are you, Ivy?”
I give him a hug. I’m not naturally a huggy person, but Benjamin has been almost like a father to me. Or a very kind uncle. He’s the one who suggested I use the framework I’d already put so much effort into for medical forms. Benjamin believes in coding once and modifying forever.
I hate that I’m getting teary, and not in just a nice to see him way.
In a shame way.
Such a useless emotion, and yet it rears up at the most inopportune times. You can try to banish it, logic telling you how wasteful it is, but it’s etched on our souls. Thanks, Puritans.
“Well, I’m back with my tail between my legs.” I’m never going to pretend with this man. I might with CeCe because there’s an odd social contract between us, but not Benjamin.
“You should definitely keep that tail there. It would ruin the line of your dress,” Benjamin says, looking me over.
“You know what I mean.”
“I do, but I also know that you’re here and that’s the first step at getting back off the ground,” he says in that deep, soothing voice of his. “If you’re here, then you’re ready to try again, and I for one am damn glad to see that, Ivy. What happened to you in California does not have to define your life.”
“Are you the reason I got the invite?” I hadn’t considered the possibility that CeCe hadn’t invited me herself.
Benjamin shakes his head. He went bald long before I met him, the hair left in an elegant semicircle of pure silver, like a crown he wears. “Absolutely not, but she’s not happy with you. The only reason she didn’t reach out sooner was she was waiting for you to inform her you were in town. She knew, of course, but thought you might need a bit of space. You took months of space and she got tired of waiting.”
I feel my gut tighten. Shame had won that time, too. “I didn’t know how to reach out.”
“There’s phones and emails, and I’ve heard one can even walk up to a door and knock on it.” Benjamin’s version of sarcasm comes with an enormous amount of old-school judgment.
“It’s not that easy. You know she funded that project.”
A brow rises over his dark eyes. “And she very likely would have funded getting you out of trouble, but you didn’t ask. She’d already made her money back on you.”
“And then I lost it all because I trusted the wrong person. Though she doesn’t seem to have a problem with him.” I take a deep breath. “I’m sorry. Please don’t tell her I said that. I know he’s got deep connections with this world, and I would never put her in a position where she would have to choose.”