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“Don’t worry. You already said that you’ll get back to me. But if we could arrange a visit next week, I’d be very grateful,” I said, applying gentle pressure. That was the way I did things, and it usually worked out for the best.

“And one last question, actually. Do you need to secure financing in order to invest?”

That was a legitimate question. Securing financing could be tricky in cases like this.

“No. It’s from my own personal funds.”

I thanked the heavens every day that the skincare business had taken off the way it did.

“All right, then. See you next week.”

“Thank you, Gaston.”

After hanging up, I was tempted to google Zachary LeBlanc. I knew it wasn’t uncommon in business circles to ask around about people—how else did you find out about someone you might be investing with? But I didn’t want to sour the rest of my evening. I’d just have to deal with him when we met at the ranch.

Sometimes it felt as if New Orleans was a small town, especially when it came to old families like mine or the LeBlanc-Broussards, and people loved to talk. But what he did was definitely crossing the line.

Whatever. The day was over, and I wouldn’t dwell on it.

I took a deep breath and got up from behind my desk, leaving the office before I could find something else to work on. The second I stepped out into the street, I looked to the right and to the left, taking in the evening air. It was fresh but warm as well. New Orleans’ summer humidity could be ghastly, and I thanked God I had air-conditioning in the office. This tight skirt and flimsy blouse weren’t the best choices for this hot weather.

I had the whole evening to myself tonight, and I was going to use it to treat myself to my favorite jambalaya at a small fusion restaurant just around the corner. Life was good, and I wasn’t going to let anyone convince me otherwise—not even Zachary LeBlanc.

Chapter Three

Zachary

I liked going out to the bayou. However, I usually went there on weekends, typically fishing with my grandfathers. After retiring from running the Orleans Conglomerate many years ago, they took up the sport. I enjoyed spending time with them, listening to their tales of the days of old. They had lots of wisdom to impart, and I would ask them for business advice when I was in a conundrum. Even if I didn’t follow it, I wanted to hear their thoughts.

But driving to the bayou on a workday in the afternoon was a shit idea. Instead of three hours, I needed four. Whatever. I would make good use of my time and call my niece, Bella.

My brother Chad was picking her up from school, and they should be home by now, so I called him on my car’s speakerphone.

“Hello,” he answered.

“Hey, can you pass me to Bella?”

He chuckled. “Right. You two and your phone dates. Sure.”

It had been a few days since we spoke at our dinner. I’d been trapped in meetings, but I didn’t want to postpone this any longer, nor disappoint her in any way.

“Uncle Zachary.” This was her serious voice, which immediately alerted me that she truly wanted to discuss something. Sometimes Bella used her uncles to get her way in things that Chad didn’t allow, such as watching the next Harry Potter movie—which was far too dark for a kid her age—or eating too many sweets. But her tone was different. Ever since Chad and Scarlett had Simone, the rest of us were paying even more attention to Bella, figuring she might be jealous. But she’d grown into her role as big sister perfectly.

“Hey, cricket. What do you want to talk about?”

“Is it true what they say in the family about you?”

“Can you be more specific? They say a lot of things.”

She giggled. “That’s true. They say that you’re very good at managing crisis situations.”

Where is she going with this?“Yeah, that is true.”

“Good, because I have a crisis.”

“What’s going on?” I heard Chad ask.

“Daddy, I asked you to step farther away. This is between Uncle Zachary and me.”