Page 11 of Never Dance with the Devils (Never Say Never #6)
KAYLA
“ K ayla? I’ve been working with Greg on this for weeks.
I assumed he’d be here for this meeting.
” Mr. Jessup makes no effort to hide his pointed glance through the wall of windows that line the conference room.
I swear he even tilts his head, trying to see further down the hallway as though Greg might be hiding around the corner, waiting for his cue to pop out and yell ‘gotcha!’
Greg is not coming. This is my meeting with David Jessup to discuss Blue Lake partnering with his company, Jessup Enterprises (because of course he named his start-up after himself).
Or more accurately, this is his meeting with me to sell the partnership that’s been pushed up the food chain with a glowing recommendation.
Greg has worked for me for years at this point, and I trust his analysis of investment opportunities, but he sees things from one perspective.
I see them from another, and ultimately, the decisions are mine, as is the responsibility for success or failure.
Greg understands that clearly, which is why we work so well together.
That, and he gave me a complete run-down on the man sitting at the conference table with me, not only with the facts and figures of his company, but a warning that Jessup is a piece of work with an ego the size of Texas, a mean streak running through his core, and a growing ambition to be the Next Big Thing, not simply get swallowed up by one.
Unfortunately for him, Blue Lake is one of the biggest, most dynamic venture capital investment firms in the US, and we eat companies like his for a snack, absorbing them into our portfolios to do with as we see fit.
And I have plans for Jessup’s company, ones he’s too short-sighted and too underfunded to imagine.
“Lucky day for you, then, David.” I use his name intentionally, the way he tried to use mine to denote a hierarchy that doesn’t exist, one where he’s somehow higher than me by rights of age or penile presence.
“You’ve been promoted to the big leagues.
” I lean back in my chair, letting one arm stretch out over the armrest, visually taking up space with what’s essentially the equivalent of manspreading, except my legs are properly closed and it’s my entire being spreading through my place at the head of the conference table.
I give him a bland, unblinking look of expectation as I let the ball fall slowly into his court.
Am I testing him? Absolutely. I need to see how he responds before committing Blue Lake, and our funding, to him.
He lets out a surprised chortle. “Excuse me?”
I don’t move a muscle, don’t make a single noise, and the moment stretches uncomfortably. Well, uncomfortable for him. For me, I can nearly taste his surrender to my little game. Not that I’m playing games. This is serious business.
All my work is serious and I have to treat it as such. Otherwise, men like David Jessup would walk right over me, thinking me nothing more than a nepo-baby placeholder in Blue Lake’s roster of vice presidents. Such is the curse of working in the family business.
Believe me, I’ve considered—and continue to consider—striking out on my own the way most of my brothers have, either with venture capital, angel investing, or something else entirely, but in truth, I love Blue Lake.
Dad mostly works from home now, so his influence is more referential than actual on the day-to-day happenings.
And though my brother, Cameron, and I are a good team, we’ve spent years building our own legs of the business and creating our own individual lanes, culminating in a broad portfolio that outperforms other investment firms by miles, while staying out of each other’s way.
One day, when Dad hands the reins over completely, it will be a fifty-fifty split between Cameron and me, and we will continue running the company as a partnership.
Unless I punch David Jessup in his smug, amused face.
Though realistically, that still wouldn’t result in my being escorted out of the building. Even then, it’d be Jessup getting turfed because at the end of the day, it’s basically my building. One of my birthrights as a Harrington.
Clasping his hands on the table, Mr. Jessup presses his lips together. I can nearly see him playing out chess moves in his mind, trying to decide what move will best serve his purposes, and all the while, his need to fight for dominance in a room where it’s only the two of us rides him hard.
As I expected, he gives in first, demanding crisply, “What exactly have I been summoned here for today?”
“Summoned?” I echo, mostly hiding my offense and only letting a vague taste of it coat the word.
“It’s an invitation at worst, an opportunity at best. Greg has recommended your company as a possible venture for Blue Lake, and now is your chance to wow me.
” Letting a serene smile tilt my lips, I add, “That is, if you’d like a fifteen-million-dollar investment in Jessup Enterprises. ”
Not liking the role reversal from what he’s used to as the CEO/owner of his business, he flinches as though I’ve slapped him but schools his face quickly. “I was under the impression this meeting was a mere formality. Greg said?—”
I interrupt him, testing again, pushing harder.
“Totally irrelevant. While Greg is a trusted advisor, he doesn’t have the final say so.
I do.” I pause, letting that sink in. When I see the acceptance in his eyes, I throw him a bone.
“I would very much like to invest in Jessup Enterprises… if the partnership would be mutually beneficial.”
He huffs out a sound that borders on a laugh, shaking his head like he can’t believe my bluntness, but men much better than him have been shocked by my audacity and said as much in much more forceful and colorful manners than Jessup’s overly expressive eyebrows and noises of distaste.
My personal favorite was a potential client who told me I had ‘big, clanging, brass balls’.
He meant it as an insult. Luckily for him, I took it as a compliment and made us both a shit-ton of money, because despite his being an asshole, his company had actually been a solid investment.
“Maybe I should talk to Cameron about this? Or Charles? Someone who can see the potential in my company that you seem unable—or unwilling—to see.” He flashes a shark-like grin, as though that was a checkmate and not a rude dismissal.
Does he seriously think he’s the first man to try to bypass me by requesting my father or brother? If that’s all it took, I would’ve been stuck in behind-closed-door analysis for the past decade, not leading investments valued in the billions before breakfast.
“That’s one thing that definitely won’t be happening today.
You get me or nothing. Even with me, you might get nothing.
” I glance at my Rolex, noting the time.
“You should take advantage of my remaining attention because I have another meeting in twenty minutes and the next words out of your mouth will determine your future.”
There’s no meeting, but arguing with him—or anyone—about my right to be in my position has grown tiresome, and I want to light a fire under him to get this deal done.
Not because of David Jessup. In fact, his reputation has preceded him much the same way mine does, and I want his company in spite of him and his misogynistic, old-school ways.
I have plans for it. He holds a patented process that I want to scavenge and use for another Blue Lake asset, but not at the expense of my own bottom line.
And I’m not only talking about financial.
If I walked into this room, with a man like Jessup, and begged for the chance to invest in his company, yes, I’d overpay for the privilege, but more importantly, word would travel fast in an industry like ours and my name would take a hit that I’d have to work for years to recover from.
Hard, bitchy, and cold are my calling cards, and I play them with skilled precision, enjoying it even more when someone underestimates me.
Witnessing the moment of realization that they’ve been outplayed by someone they dismissed as a pretty placeholder but actually has more brains than beauty is one of my favorite experiences, as a woman and as a businesswoman.
Jessup’s jaw is clenched tight and for a moment, I think he might actually hold out. I tick my eyes down to my watch once more, and he snarls, “Do you at least have a base understanding of what it is we do?”
Of course I do. I’d bet I understand what his company does even better than he does, because while he might’ve started it, they’ve grown exponentially since the days where Jessup was working in his garage at night, and the staff he’s recruited since are innovative, creative, and forward-thinking. All things the man before me is not.
I smile politely. “Why don’t you explain it to me?”
He sighs in annoyance but steadies himself and launches into a twenty-minute explanation of Jessup Enterprises, from inception to current incarnation.
I listen intently, ask questions at the appropriate times, and give him my complete, undivided attention, truly wanting to understand not only his company, but him.
By the end of it, I think he’s even forgotten to be upset with me. He’s passionate about his work, his company, and the processes they’ve patented, and that’s the insight I needed out of this meeting .
A man who loves what he does is a man who will do anything to succeed. Even if it means partnering with someone like me.
“Do you have any questions?” he asks, wrapping up.
“Just one,” I say evenly. “How soon can we get this contract signed?”
I wait a beat, and then another, watching as understanding dawns on his face. For all his bravado, he’s not a poker player with a good bluff, and his smile is genuine. “Send it over and we’ll get this thing done.”
“I’ll have Legal finalize everything and send it ASAP.”
“Sounds good.” He rises, his hand extended. I stand to shake with a more reserved smile.
“Thank you for coming in, Mr. Jessup. I’ll be in touch soon. Mr. Hernandez will escort you back downstairs.” I gesture to the assistant who’s been standing by politely, just outside the conference room’s closed door.
Once they’re gone, I grab my leather portfolio and head back to my office.
As I walk down the hall, noise quiets and heads duck down into cubicles.
I’m not well-liked at work, but I am respected, which is more important.
I’m not here to make friends. I’m here to make money, and I do…
a lot of money—for Blue Lake, for myself, and for every one of the employees who prefer to stay out of my way.
I hit the door of my office, already talking to my assistant. “Angeline, can you let Greg know that I’m in on the Jessup deal? He’ll need to loop Legal in for the contract and then send it to me before it goes out to Jessup. I’d like it to go over this week, if possible.”
Angeline has been my right-hand for over a year and she’s the best of the best. If I had a friend at work, it’d be her, except friendship doesn’t come with a paycheck. Still, I appreciate that she’s one of the few people who treats me like a human being and not a robot.
“Kayla… Kayla…” She’s calling out to me, but I’m halfway through the outer office, not stopping as I open my door.
Except my office isn’t vacant the way I expected. The way it should be.
There are two very large, very attractive men sitting in the chairs in front of my desk. Two men I thought I’d never see again and who don’t look all that happy to see me, either.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” I whisper, the words falling off my tongue before I can reframe them into something more appropriate.