“I overpaid for your company.” I pulled out an agreement from my pocket. “By about four hundred fifty million, right?”
“Right.”
“So, you’re going to be a gentleman and refund me half.”
“Half?”
“I can spell the word out for you if you’d like,” I said. “Then you’re going to write out a check for all the money you should’ve paid Andrea over the years, and we’ll go from there.”
“Mr. Cross, I’m not sure why you?—”
“This isn’t a negotiation session.” I was done with the conversation part. “You owe Andrea Stone. And you also owe me.”
“Let me guess…” He swallowed, pulling out a pen. “You’re going to use this to make yourself look like the good guy in her eyes?”
“Not at all.” I pointed to the line he needed to sign. “I’ll have to do something else for that…”
FORTY-SEVEN
HARRISON
One Week Later
(I think it’s been a week…)
Schedule Alert:Final Contract with Lay Group. Session Pushed Up.
Imuted the notification for the third time this morning, mentally running through the final pros and cons.
“Austin would want me to do this, right?” I looked over my shoulder at Ciara and Aaron. “It’s just one step closer to saving us and ruining Starbucks.”
They exchanged glances, but neither of them answered.
“Hello?” I asked. “Am I talking to myself? Would Austin want this?”
“Harrison,” Aaron said, sighing, “I was on Andrea’s side when it came to the layoffs…”
“Me too…” Ciara whispered softly.
“Andrea is no longer here with us.” I rolled my eyes. “Who cares what she thinks?”
“Youdo.” Aaron stepped closer, holding out a spreadsheet. “If it takes longer, it can take longer. You’ll still be a multibillionaire.”
“I see.” I hesitated to take it from him. “I called Ken Lay earlier this morning and told him to come here. I’m ready to handle the deal today, and I’d like to rehearse the words I plan to say.”
“We’ll let you get to it, then,” Ciara said.
“I meant with you two.” I glared at her. “Have a seat and let me tell you what I’m going to say.”
They ignored my demand and left the room, but not before shaking their heads at me and making me question whose side they were on.
Sighing, I flipped through the spreadsheet and realized I’d seen it before.
I’d pulled it off Andrea’s cloud weeks ago, and her numbers were right—as usual. They just didn’t align with the timeline I originally wanted.
Well, what IthoughtI wanted.
“Mr. Cross?” Heather poked her head through the door. “Mr. Lay is here.”
