Amelia
For most of the last hour, I’ve allowed Ambrose to escort me around the room. I’ve never seen the ‘business’ side of him, and it’s impressive to watch. He has an uncanny ability to draw people to him effortlessly.
He’s personable, attentive, and whoever he talks to, he’s hyper-focused on them, listening carefully, making polite comments, and never interrupting. It’s a rare skill.
We’ve been standing with one group for a while, and Ambrose has been talking to the man on his left about his stock portfolio for several minutes. I’m pretending to listen but get distracted when I hear the name “Franklin Barnes” mentioned behind me.
The rest of the group is deep in conversation, and I subtly lean away so I can eavesdrop on two men who I can see standing a little way behind me.
I glance at them. One is in a dark charcoal suit, which looks out of place against the backdrop of tuxedos and all around us. And the guy beside him oozes money from every pore. He’s got an enormous Rolex that flashes on his wrist.
Rolex has a self-important expression and a large tumbler of whiskey in his hand. The only thing missing is a cigarslotted between his fingers as he leans over and continues their conversation.
“I’ve been talking to Franklin for a long time; we’ve been business acquaintances for years. Crawford is dancing around trying to negotiate when he should just agree to Barnes’s terms. Franklin doesn’t want to leave completely. He wants to retain his foothold and his leverage for a little longer. Yes, he’s a stubborn asshole, but he’s also very smart. He knows Crawford will send his profits into the stratosphere; who wouldn’t want a slice of that pie? Men like Crawford are blinded by greed and forget that everyone else is just as greedy as they are. It’s a trait the best of us can capitalize on while the others are knee deep in irrelevant details.”
The man in the charcoal suit is swaying slightly, his eyes unfocused and bloodshot.
“I’ve told Franklin more than once that if this deal falls through, I’ll be there to pick up the pieces,” Rolex continues. “Before he went off on vacation, I suggested Felicity catch up with Marilyn. Our wives have always been close—that’s really when marriage becomes useful, you know. She can sidle up to them without them even realizing it’s a business conversation.” He laughs smugly.
“And?” Charcoal Suit asks, the word drawn out as he sways toward the other man. The liquid in his glass is close to spilling onto the floor.
“Turns out the deal isn’t evensigned,” Rolex says, scoffing into his drink. “Crawford has let this man go off to the Maldives without nailing him to the wall first. I think he’s losing his touch in his old age.”
Rolex shakes his head, knocking back the entire glass of whiskey in an effortless way that chills me. He doesn’t even wince.
“So,” Charcoal Suit asks, squinting at the bottom of his glass as he drops his voice to a low murmur. “Did you make the offer?”
“Of course. Felicity told me Barnes’s not certain, and that’s all I need to know. Any weakness can be exploited. Marilyn’s nervous about them putting all their eggs in one basket, especially since most of their children are part of the company. My offer is more generous than I can really afford, but unlike Crawford, I won’t let Barnes slip through my fingers a second time.”
The two men change topic, Rolex seeming to realize that his companion is about to pass out. As they move away, I return my attention back to the group, my mind whirling with possibilities.
Is that true? Has Barnes not signed off on the deal? Could someone really swoop in and snatch it out of Crawford’s grip?
“You look troubled, are you alright?” Ambrose’s voice cuts through my thoughts as his hand comes to rest on the small of my back.
“Oh yes. Sorry, I was just thinking about a work thing,” I hedge, glancing around to see if I can spot Crawford.
“You look pale, maybe we should go and get some air, hm?” Ambrose asks.
“Amelia.”
I jump at the growly voice behind me as I turn and see Crawford towering over me. He flashes a venomous look at Ambrose, as his fingers curl around my upper arm.
“A word,” he says angrily and tugs me away from the group.
I glance back at Ambrose, bewildered as to what could have upset Crawford, but I’m simply met with a knowing smile as Ambrose cocks his head to one side, before turning back to the group.
“You’re hurting me,” I say, but Crawford doesn’t loosen his grip even a little, moving us through the huge room and onlyslowing his pace as people begin to stare at us curiously as we move past.
I smile vaguely at them, hoping that we’re not putting on a show.
Shouldn’t I be the one who’s pissed? He left me to fend for myself in a room full of strangers! What the fuck…
We walk into a long hallway, lined with tables that match the décor in the main room. Gold vases with white flowers cascading over the top have been placed at intervals along the way, and their scent is intoxicating as I stumble by.
Crawford drags me over the carpet to a door at the end of the hallway. He pushes through it, and we step out onto a slim balcony.
We’re not particularly high up, but the grounds are spread out below us, with a fountain bubbling in the center.
