Mr. Bloomsbury (Mister) - Page 61

When I opened the door to the suite, I could tell by the way she wouldn’t meet my gaze that something was wrong. “What happened?” I asked.

She gave me a one-shouldered shrug. “What do you want to talk about?”

Her mood had soured like month-old milk. We’d had a lovely evening at her mother’s place. The food, wine, and conversation had been great. But something had clearly shifted for her.

“You want a drink?”

“No. I need a clear head for this.”

“For what?” I said, the tension in my neck returning like a mast being hoisted into position.

“Whatever you’re going to say.”

I exhaled and took a seat on the sofa. Instead of coming to sit next to me, she perched on the stool for the grand piano.

“I want to cancel the meeting on Monday.”

She blinked once then twice, as if she were processing my words. “Just like that, you’ve changed your mind?”

“I had a chat with Tristan today and . . . I don’t like what I’m doing. I don’t want to get Verity back if it means lying and cheating to do it.”

Her head shot up and she stood. “Tristan changed your mind? What happened?”

“We’ve known each other a long time. It’s our job to keep each other in check, and we trust each other to tell us when we’re making a mistake.”

“And Tristan thinks you’re making a mistake?”

I patted the sofa next to me, inviting her to sit. “He pointed out the hypocrisy of me trying to restore Verity, Inc. as a bastion of truth when I had to lie to own it.”

“Right,” Sofia said, plonking herself on the sofa next to me.

“I’m not prepared to sacrifice my character just because Goode’s an arsehole.”

A small smile curled the edges of her lips. “You always know exactly the right thing to say.”

I wasn’t sure that was true, but I was all too happy to accept her change in mood. “I’m just telling you the truth.”

She nodded. “I know. And I appreciate that.” She slid her arms around my waist. I lifted my arm and she burrowed into my side. “I want you to be honest with me. Always. You know . . . for as long as we’re . . .”

“I promise.”

We sat in silence for a few minutes, just staring out onto Central Park, holding each other.

“Maybe you should go to the breakfast on Monday,” she said.

I knew owning Verity was hopeless now. There was no point in flogging a dead horse. “It’s fine. I’ve got to move on and honor my grandmother’s legacy in a different way.”

“Isn’t it worth one last shot?”

“I’ve been on this hamster wheel with Goode for years now. I need to step off, dust myself down, and break out of the cage. It’s done. I’ve made peace with it.”

Sofia tapped her fingers against my chest. “Just turn up to the breakfast on Monday—”

“Seriously, it’s fine. I’m over it.”

She pulled out of my arms and gave me a don’t-fuck-with-me look. “Hear me out. You know what I said about his ego? This is information you didn’t have before. You can make it work to your advantage. Go to the Monday meeting and confess. Tell him I work for you, what we’d been planning. Then tell him how much your grandmother’s legacy means to you.”

“He knows, Sofia. He doesn’t give a shit.”

“I’m not so sure. Like I said, ego drives that man. He just doesn’t want to end up with egg on his face. If you go to him and offer to keep him as a partner—”

“I’ve told you—I’ve offered a thousand times to go in and manage the business for him, to turn it around.”

“Goddamnit, Andrew, stop interrupting me. I’m telling you not to just manage the business. Offer to take all the risk by buying out the majority of the shares but keeping him as a minority shareholder. You put all the money in, do all the work turning around—under his minority ownership, at zero risk to him. If it fails, the deal states you have to buy him out—so publicly, it looks like you’ve sunk the ship. If you’re successful, he can publicly participate in the success because he’s still a shareholder.”

I took in what she was saying. Her suggestion put Goode in a position where he had nothing to lose, and a front-row seat to my humiliation to gain if I failed. That would be hard for him to pass up.

“You might be on to something. I just don’t know if he’ll be able to get over the fact that I’ve deceived him by sending you in to bat for me.”

“Maybe not, but you have nothing to lose by being honest. We’re in New York anyway.”

She was right: if I didn’t try, I’d always wonder if I’d left a stone unturned.

“I’ll try, but you know, Tristan fed me another home truth tonight and it’s got me thinking.” I explained to her how he made me see I wasn’t prepared if Goode actually agreed to sell. “I wondered if you’d be interested in putting together some operations planning in the unlikely event Goode takes the deal.”

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