Page 35 of Thiago (Family Ties #6)

Chapter Thirty-Five

“ A re we ready?” Thiago asked Amir.

Amir had set up the audiovisual equipment. Nodding, he sat down with the rest of the employees crowded into the conference room. Thiago took his place behind the microphone and placed his hands on the podium.

Normally, he liked to have prepared notes to refer to, but he had decided to speak off the cuff to the thousands of employees around the world via videoconference. The screen in front of him showed images of staff in various locations, waiting for the big announcement.

“Good morning, good afternoon, and good evening to all of you.”

He paused for a moment to collect his thoughts and then looked directly into the camera, speaking to each and every employee.

“In the past year since I took over as CEO, Santana International has grown into an extraordinary company. Not solely because of me or any one person or office, but because of each and every one of you watching right now—in North America, South America, and other parts of the world. Each of you has given your time and effort to make this company successful. Thanks to you, we have reached a major milestone. The preliminary numbers will be confirmed in a few weeks at the end of the quarter, but I am pleased to announce we have achieved our revenue goals. Santana International is officially a billion-dollar corporation!”

Applause and cheers filled the room and filtered in from the overseas locations via the screens.

They had seized twenty-three percent of Santiago Migos’s market share while the company continued to struggle with the fallout of the tequila scandal, surpassing Santana International’s goals for the quarter.

Thiago waited until the commotion quieted down.

“Despite the good news, that’s not why I requested this company-wide meeting, the first of its kind.

For months, you have probably heard whispers about what’s next for our company.

You may have heard we were planning to take Santana International public, and yes, I considered that route.

In the end, I realized something important: we do not need Wall Street to define our worth. We already know our value.”

There were a few gasps and whispers from some staff, including members of the executive team, who appeared bewildered as they looked around the room and came to the realization that his goals had changed.

“I do not wish to reduce our company to numbers on a quarterly report.

We are much more than that. Our strength was, is, and will always be in the talent and dedication of the people who show up each day, solve problems, build relationships with our vendors, and simply make us one of the best companies to work for and work with.

“So today, I am announcing a new chapter at Santana International. One that I know the previous CEO, my father, Benicio Santana, would be very proud of. In honor of his vision of a company that stands for more than profits, instead of selling shares to strangers, we are going to invest in each other. We are going to invest in you. Starting at the beginning of the fourth quarter, we will launch a profit-sharing program delineated by region. Bonuses will no longer be limited to the top executives. All permanent employees will share in the profits of their individual region—from the mailroom to the boardroom.”

More gasps and big smiles as the admins and other support staff processed the information.

“This is not a gift,” Thiago continued. “This is recognition. You are the heart of our organization, and when you put in the work, you should share in its success. Details will be forthcoming from your managers and supervisors, but I wanted to thank you myself for your efforts. You have earned this. The future of Santana International belongs to all of us, and together, we will continue to win and succeed. Thank you.”

Half the room shot to their feet and started clapping. More cheers could be heard on the screens as the international locations also celebrated.

Standing at the podium, Thiago experienced a great sense of accomplishment.

He only wished India could have been there to share the moment, which simply didn’t feel complete without her presence.

Late in the afternoon, Thiago cruised along the highway in his red Ferrari Roma.

This morning’s announcement had gone well.

He’d felt a moment of self-satisfaction when staff heard the news, instead of what they had expected, which was the we’re going public speech.

Seeing their reactions, he had no doubt he had made the right decision, and his father had been ecstatic when Thiago called and told him of the change.

Now he was on his way to India’s apartment. On the seat beside him were peace offerings: arepas con queso from Bruno and chocolate chip cookies with macadamia nuts from Mama Rosa. He hoped they were enough to get him in the door.

Traffic was tight as he pulled onto India’s street and crawled to a stop at the traffic light a couple blocks away. The light turned green, and he slowly accelerated, when he saw India up ahead on the sidewalk.

Then he registered the man with her. He grabbed her arm as she tried to walk past him.

Simon.

With a surge of anger, Thiago hit the brakes without thinking. The car jerked to a stop in the middle of the street. As he hopped out of the vehicle and slammed the door, horns blared behind him.

“Hey, what are you doing?” someone yelled.

“This ain’t no damn parking lot!” another person yelled.

He ignored the commotion and took long strides toward India and Simon, his eyes zeroed in on where the doctor gripped her arm so she couldn’t get away.

“I said, let go of me!” India yelled, pushing at Simon and simultaneously trying to yank her arm out of his grasp.

“Hey!” Thiago yelled.

Both India and Simon swung their heads in his direction.

“Thiago!” she said with relief.

Simon’s face twisted with annoyance.

“Let her go,” Thiago said.

“What is your problem? You’re just her boss.”

“I said, let her go.” Thiago stopped just a few feet away from them, his body tense as he barely restrained the urge to hit the guy.

“Get the hell out of here. She doesn’t need you!” Simon shoved Thiago in the middle of the chest.

Thiago snapped.

His fist whipped out and connected with Simon’s jaw. A clean, sharp jab that knocked the doctor to the pavement with a thud. He lay sprawled on the ground, his body unmoving.

India gasped, pressing both hands to her mouth. She dropped to a crouch. “Oh my goodness, what did you do? You didn’t kill him, did you?” Tentatively, she shook Simon by the shoulder.

Thiago knelt beside Simon’s still body and pressed two fingers to his neck, checking his pulse with a practiced touch.

“He’s not dead. If I wanted to kill him, I would have hit him in the temple.”

As a martial artist, he knew a temple strike was a particularly dangerous move. The skull bone is thinner in that area, with an artery running underneath. A blow to that part of the head could cause a skull fracture, brain bleed, or even death.

India stared at him. “You said that way too casually. What do we do? We can’t leave him here.”

Thiago’s attention was drawn to the curious onlookers, several of whom had taken out their phones and were recording from a safe distance. “I’ll move him inside. Call an ambulance.”

Holding Simon under the arms, he dragged him the short distance to India’s apartment building, and the doorman followed them inside.

“What happened to him?” he asked.

Thiago propped the unconscious doctor against the wall. “His face collided with my fist.”

India hung up the phone. “An ambulance is on the way.”

“When he wakes up, tell him if he touches her again, next time I won’t stop at one punch.” Thiago handed the doorman a C-note and then ushered India out the door.

“Where are we going?” she asked.

“I need to move my car.” He nodded in the direction of his vehicle.

“You left a two hundred and fifty thousand dollar car in the middle of the street?” she asked, winding through traffic alongside him.

He shrugged as he opened the passenger side door. “I had something important to take care of,” he said, looking directly into her eyes.

Her lips turned up a little at the corners as she slid onto the car seat. A good sign if he ever needed one.

When he settled behind the wheel, she asked, “What’s this?” She held the paper sack with the two containers inside on her lap.

“Something for you. I’ll explain when we get upstairs, if that’s okay?” He paused, their gazes meeting.

“Upstairs?”

“If you don’t mind.”

A beat passed.

“No, I don’t mind,” India confirmed.

Relieved, Thiago parked in the garage below street level, and they took the elevator up to her apartment. Inside, he felt immediately as if he had come home after a long, arduous journey.

The familiar floors, the dining area where they had eaten their meals, the sunken living room where they relaxed afterward, all brought back a flood of memories.

He followed India into the kitchen.

“So, what are you doing here, Thiago?” she asked.

“I came to talk.”

“About…?”

“Us. Before we get started, I said I brought you something.” He removed the glass containers from the bag.

“Bruno made arepas. They’re best when eaten right after they’re cooked but still good if we heat them up.

My stepmother sent you a batch of chocolate chip cookies with macadamia nuts.

Tonight marks the end of the reign of oatmeal raisin. ” His lip curled up in mock disgust.

“I’ll be the judge of that, thank you very much. Are you going to join me?”

“Yes, I will,” Thiago said.

“I’ll get the plates.” Her eyes softened and another smile, broader this time, touched her lips before she turned away.

For the first time in a long time, hope stirred in his chest.

Maybe he wasn’t too late.