I slap on my most dazzling smile, deciding to just own our last encounter instead of playing dumb. “Sir! So lovely to see you again. And it’s great to meet you, Will.”
I see the exact moment Sir Whitmore recognizes me—his bushy brows furrow in what can only be described as a less-than-pleased expression.
Liam frowns, glancing at me sideways. “You two have met before?”
“We met outside one of my Comfort Cup carts,” Sir Whitmore says.
“Sir, about that—” I start, ready to launch into a groveling apology.
But he cuts me off with a wave of his hand, his eyes softening just a fraction. “Your coffee choice was excellent. Excellent,” he says, winking at me like we’re sharing some sort of inside joke.
Wow, that’s surprisingly nice of him.
I try not to let my relief show too plainly on my face and smile apologetically back at him, mouthing,Thanks.
But the moment Sir Whitmore and Will turn their attention to Liam, it’s like someone cranked the A/C to arctic levels.
“McLaren,” the old man practically spits.
“Excellent auction, as always,” Liam says, his tone smooth and confident despite the icy reception. “I trust the funds raised will go a long way toward supporting your charitable endeavors.”
Considering he’d dropped the most cash on any single item tonight, his angle is about as subtle as a brick to the face.
But the Whitmores aren’t having it.
“You think throwing money around at a charity event will make us roll over and let you dismantle everything I’ve built?” Sir Whitmore says. He’s not shouting—he’s too posh for that—but his disapproval is clear as day. “You don’t give a damn about our ethos or the employees who’ve been with us over three decades. The hard-working factory workers who rely on this job.”
I sneak a glance at Liam, half expecting to see steam coming out of his ears. But his expression remains collected, only the slightest narrowing of his eyes giving away his irritation.
“I give a damn about the survival of your company,” he says, his voice taking on a steely edge. “If it goes under, all that talk about employees becomes meaningless. I’d think long and hard about the deal currently on the table if I were you. It shows just how serious Ashbury Thornton is about this acquisition.”
Sir Whitmore’s lips flatten into a grim line. “Your proposal would leave my company unrecognizable.”
Liam leans in, his tall frame looming over the older man. “My proposal would make your floundering company profitable again. The market is changing. Businesses aren’t the same as they were ten years ago. You’re a great businessman, but you’re stuck in the wrong era.”
I wince at his words. That is possibly the worst thing he could have said.
The Whitmores bristle, looking positively livid.
I shift my weight, feeling like I’m stuck in the middle of a dick-swinging contest, the second of the evening.
“My dad has more workers loyal to him than any other company in the UK,” Will snaps, dripping with the kind of upper-class disdain that only an Eton education can provide. “You’d do well to learn fromhim.Are you one big happy Ashbury Thornton family, huh? Because from where I’m standing, it sure doesn’t look like it.”
He turns to me, his expression softening. “I do apologize, Gemma. You seem like a delightful young woman. Please don’t take any of this personally. In fact, I rather pity you for having to work under such an arrogant, insufferable man.”
I look between the three men wondering how the hell I’m going to defuse this. Or at the very least, not make it worse. There’s some subtle elitism at play here, and it’s clearly getting under Liam’s skin, even if he’s doing his best to hide it. But Liam’s not exactly helping his case by throwing around ageist jabs, telling Sir Whitmore he’s in the wrong era.
Liam wants me to get an “in” with Whitmore. Well, sometimes the best way to bond is over a common enemy. It’s just unfortunate that, in this case, said enemy happens to be my boss.
“You’re right. He can be a bit of a bastard to work for,” I say, my tone conspiratorial. I can feel Liam go rigid beside me, but I plow on. “If this deal goes through, count yourself lucky you’ll never have to deal with him again.”
Liam chokes, his body stiffening beside me like he’s just been hit with a taser. But both Whitmores chuckle, the sound almost jarring after the tense exchange.
“You don’t pull any punches, do you?” Sir Whitmore says.
“When you work with people like Liam, you have to be as tough as nails,” I reply, pointedly ignoring the death glare Liam is drilling into the side of my head. “All CEOs in my industry are like that. They’re not exactly known for their warm and fuzzy personalities. But for all his flaws, Liam’s a straight talker and he works exceptionally hard. You always know you’re getting the honest truth from him, even if it’s not what you want to hear.”
Sir Whitmore grunts, but for the first time in this whole argument, he doesn’t immediately fire back. Progress, maybe?
