Page 58 of Cameron's Contract

We had them.

Henry had left them warily swapping gazes or merely staring into their beverages.

We’d provided a generous breakfast and served up Cole Tea and coffee in our signature mugs. Our logo on the cups, our crest on the napkins, our name hanging in the balance.

“Cameron.” Dad gestured for me to speak.

Adrenaline forged through my veins and my heart raced with the excitement of closing this deal and putting this charade behind us.

Remy Parkerbroke the silence. “We were just as invested as you in taking Cole Tea forward.”

Remy’s use of past tense chilled my blood.

A seventy-year-old luxury casino owner who wore ill-fitting suits and had shifty eyes. I’d never liked him and could never understand how Dad had. I wanted him off the board.

“There must be changes,” he said. “The foreign market has evolved. We’re not keeping up.”

“We agree that recent developments have altered the landscape,” I said. “Which is why we brought on a dynamic team to implement changes. This man—” I pointed to my father—“removed the uncertainties for you and ensured each of you a return on your investments that far exceeded expectations. He knows this industry better than anyone. He’s lived and breathed this company, and taken us into the twenty-first century with the kind of transition most Wall Street businesses could only dream about. Yes, laws change. Yes, we’ve had to face the evolution of both political and foreign policies. We’ve stood strong, kept our employees secure, provided scholarships for their children, and enviable healthcare for their families.”

“Our competitors are winning,” said Remy. “Adapt or die.”

“There’s villages in Nepal,” I said. “Where my father drastically improved the mortality rates.”

Dad had built on the infrastructure of the village, placed a medical facility in the town, and had not just cared about the product at any cost. He’d introduced a new Nepalitea into the market, producing the leaves in the eastern zones, and they were far superior to Darjeeling in flavor, appearance, and aroma. The method of processing the leaves produced at lower altitudes in the fertile plains provided an exceptional experience and was hailed by American tea connoisseurs as an award winning product.

“Nepali mothers once had to trek hundreds of miles on foot for medical care. No more, thanks to this man. Women with c-section scars, and the knowledge they may not make it, have been given the best chance of survival for them and their children by my father. You say adapt or die? This is adaption. Not just producing a product at any cost but taking in the human factor. Giving a damn about each and every employee and building loyalty. A legacy you once believed in.”

David Atwoodnarrowed his gaze. “Shares have fallen. Faith in the business—”

“My father funded your run for senator,” I snapped back. “Got you your seat.”

“Of which I am eternally grateful.”

“Your concerns are ill founded,” I said. “The company is thriving.”

“When was the last meeting you attended?” he snapped back.

I lowered my voice, resting my hand on his shoulder. “David, we need you to do the right thing today.”

He sat back and gazed down.

We were close.

My focus turned to the remaining two members.

I inwardly flinched when I saw Shay gesturing to me through the glass. “Please, excuse me gentlemen.”

Shay headed off to a nearby cubicle.

I followed him out.

“We have a situation,” he said.

“Yes, we do. You just interrupted—”

“It’s not good.”

“Mia?”