I wasn’t that way naturally.
But he was also uncomfortable. My bluntness had put him on high alert. His eyes were darting around, and they were growing wild. He was shifting in his seat, probably turning my words around in his head. I had to get him to calm down. If he wanted to keep this under wraps, then having some sort of mini breakdown in the middle of a nice restaurant like this would prove fatal to what he wanted.
“Tell me a bit about your company,” I said.
“What?” he asked.
“Your company. How did you start it?”
“Well, that story starts with my family.”
“Then start there,” I said.
“I came from wealth. My father was a millionaire, and I was the son destined to take over his business. I was put through private school and Yale, my father’s alma mater. Got a degree in business, exactly like he did. He groomed me to be his replacement, but his business wasn’t what I wanted. Real estate wasn’t my passion.”
“What was?” I asked.
“It started in the business-to-business supply chain stuff. I moved into corporate investment after I excelled in that field, and that was how I broke off into my billionaire status. Made my first billion in corporate investing when I turned twenty-six. I did very well picking companies and opportunities I could pour my resources into and make great. Restructuring failing companies is what I was meant to do, not sell land to over-fattened assholes. It hurts most companies in the short term, with layoffs and the shutting down of stores if they’ve franchised, but it helps the economy in the long term by giving them the ability to expand stability and provide jobs to communities that need them the most. Sucks for the short term, helps for the long term.”
“Good,” I said.
“Good? That’s all you have to say about that is good?” he asked.
“Do you want me to pat you on your back? Yes, it’s good. You didn’t lie to me. That’s a good thing. Trust is a two-way street. I have to be able to trust you as much as you have to be able to trust me.”
“So, you knew all that,” he said.
“Yep.”
“Every bit of it.”
“Uh-huh.”
“You just let me ramble on about it to see if I would lie to you.”
“Yeah. I researched you thoroughly before I even decided to show up for your fun little interview. I enjoyed our wordplay, by the way. Very interesting,” I said.
“Fine. You know about my background. What’s yours?” he asked.
“I already know you’ve read my file,” I said.
“I also know there are always details in files like those that are overlooked for the sake of conciseness.”
I grinned as I drew in a deep breath.
“I was an MP in the Army. Military police officer. I was also on an SRT. It’s the Army equivalent of a SWAT team. I wanted to go directly into Special Forces, but they weren’t taking women at the time for those kinds of teams when I wanted to apply. When I couldn’t do what I wanted, I left to find somewhere I could. I got a job with a private military contracting firm so I could better utilize my strengths but ended up specializing in hostage rescues when it came to terrorists.”
“Why did you specialize in that?” he asked.
“Because I can speak their language.”
“What? You know how to think like a psychopath or something?”
“No,” I said flatly. “I actually speak their language. I’m fluent in Pashto, Dari, and Kurdish, and I can muddle my way through Arabic.”
Derek nodded his head as if he was listening intently, but I could tell he was once again blindsided by my admissions. This man really was an idiot.
“After that, I transitioned into asset protection,” I said.