‘Wow, Tony, that’s great news. Why didn’t you tell me about it?’
‘Well, you had a lot going on and nothing was signed and sealed.’ He paused. ‘And it’s hardly global software.’
Oliver swallowed. Had his best friend really not told himbecause he thought his family’s business was less of a business than Drummond Global?
‘I mean, it’s just pizza,’ Tony added.
‘The best pizza,’ Oliver said sternly. ‘And people will always need pizza. I’m not so sure they’re always going to need computers when the zombie apocalypse comes.’ He smiled at his friend. ‘It’s tough times out there and I’m proud of you.’
The sentiment clogged his throat. What had gotten into him? He quickly opened the door some more and shifted himself out.
‘Hey, pizza on the house for opening nights,’ Tony called out to him.
Oliver ducked his head back into the car. ‘I think opening night should be sponsored by Drummond Global.’
‘Really?’ Tony asked.
‘Absolutely. Now get out of here,’ he urged. He slammed the door of the car and waved a hand at his friend. The Mustang pulled out into the flow of traffic and Oliver looked up at the Riley Club. He stepped towards the door.
In days gone by, all you’d been able to smell in the entrance of the club was the fragrance of cigar smoke. Now the atmosphere was pure testosterone mixed with a dash of Scotch. Oliver hated it. And now, as he stood in the lobby, there was a six foot Christmas tree and a life-size moving Father Christmas. It was ghastly.
Standing on the regal red carpet, Oliver looked into the antique mirror against the gilt wallpaper, adjusting his tie. His father had spent half this life in his place, making and breaking deals, mixing in influential circles. Was that why he detested it so much? Because it had taken so much of his father’s time – more time he could have spent with the family? He shook himself.This wasn’t any time for sentimentality. This was business. And he was going to lay it on the line to Andrew Regis. He checked his reflection once more. The truth was, he still wasn’t entirely convinced by the man’s motives. The merger looked good for both businesses on paper, but was it the same in reality? They needed to finalise how it was all going to work once they’d joined forces. Had Oliver jumped on the offer because it was going to grow Drummond Global? Or just because it was a steal of a price? He needed to make sure all his ducks were in a row and get focused.
Oliver took a step towards the door that led to the Invicta Room. A violinist was playing in the corner of the grand space, partially obscured by a large plant, the lights from the two chandeliers that dominated the room were turned down low and most of the tables were taken up by businessman clones. Formal three-piece suits, the majority of the people wearing them over fifty. One day, he would be exactly the same. He swallowed at that thought and inhaled, turning his head a little. If he made it to fifty. It seemed unlikely. Perhaps not turning into one of them was a plus point.
Andrew Regis was sat by the window, his polished bald head instantly recognisable. Oliver moved across the floor towards him and, when he was a few yards from the table, the man got up, extending his hand out.
‘Oliver,’ Andrew greeted. He grasped Oliver’s hand, pumping it up and down.
‘Andrew, it’s good to see you.’ He sat down, instinctively picking up the wine menu. ‘Have you ordered drinks?’
‘I’m on the Scotch, I’m afraid.’ He smiled, raising his glass. ‘It’s been one of those mornings.’
Oliver said nothing but moved his eyes to scan the list of drinks. Like magic, a waiter appeared alongside their table.
‘We’ll have a bottle of the Australian Merlot.’ He looked to Andrew. ‘Is that OK with you?’
‘That’s absolutely fine with me.’
Oliver waited for the waiter to take his leave before he clasped his hands together and angled his body forward. ‘Andrew, I’m going to come right out with it. We need to iron out this deal together.’
The man picked up a linen napkin and toyed with it in his hands. ‘Straight down to business then,’ Andrew said.
‘I must have looked through the contract a dozen times now. It seems to me your lawyers are fighting hard to keep themselves in fees. The latest changes are so miniscule… the whole thing is racking up unnecessary costs and a whole lot of aggravation.’
Andrew nodded. ‘Your mother said you would say that.’
The sentence stung like he’d just stumbled into a nettle bush. Heat spread quickly to his cheeks. ‘You’ve spoken to my mother about this?’ He blinked. ‘Why would you do that?’
Something changed in Andrew Regis’s stance. He looked a little uneasy. Oliver watched him press the napkin to his lips.
‘She hasn’t told you,’ Andrew stated, putting the napkin to the table. He shook his head. ‘She said she was going to tell you.’
Now Oliver’s chest cavity filled up, his heart beating like tom-toms as he frantically tried to decipher the vagueness Andrew Regis was delivering.
‘Told me what?’ His words were tentative because he wasn’t sure he wanted to know what was coming.
‘Your mother and I… we’ve been spending a lot of time with each other and…’
