“We both know that’s not true.” His response comes too fast, but it’s said casually.
“Legally it is.”
A dry chuckle. “Yes, indeed. We wouldn’t want to dig deeper than that, would we?”
I allow a wry smile, admitting nothing, playing the game.
“It’s what’s caught the eye of more than just me, Alexander.” He’s gone still, eyes on me, food ignored.
I lean back in my chair, picking up my glass of sparkling water.
“Come now,” he says, “there’s no need to be defensive. I’m not judging when you’re making that much money for the company.”
I incline my head, both acknowledging that and emphasizing it.
“And doing very well for yourselfalong the way,” he continues. “In fact, we’ve decided to offer you a promotion.”
That makes no sense; he can’t. It would put me at his level. Besides, I’m too young. There are ‘rules.’
I let my disbelief through. “Managing partner at thirty-four?”
“Not exactly.” He leans back too, gestures with a hand, and a moment later the attentive but discreet staff clear our appetizers. I hadn’t finished my burrata, but I’m suddenly less hungry. His interruption is deliberately timed.
DeLuca lets the anticipation build as we wait for them to withdraw, then picks up where he left off. “What I’m offering you isn’t strictly within Northbridge Capital. It’s something… let’s say… broader.”
He’s being deliberately vague, but it only piques my interest. Money stopped being the point a long time ago. What I want is the room where the real decisions are made, and I’ve never quite been in it. “Go on.”
“The dead-man’s-shoes approach to promotion is too limiting for men like you. Rather than risk losing valuable individuals, there’s another way. A cross-company route, if you will.”
I raise an eyebrow. Not just a seat at the table. DeLuca’s implying a different table entirely. “Oh?”
He smiles at my interest. “Clearly, we’re only one part of Cadrion Strategic Holdings. Distinct from the risk advisory and tech corporations.”
I know all this. “Necessary separation forregulatory and political reasons.” Except he just said ‘cross-company.’
“Separation, indeed.” He makes a sound like that amuses him. “Take Armitage and Calder.”
“The law firm we use.”
“We have a… deeply aligned relationship with them.”
That was said with some weight. “How deep?”
He looks down at the table and taps the side of his wine glass with one fingertip. “Given that law firms must be legally distinct, officially, of course, they’re independent. Unofficially… let’s say interests converge.”
That, I was not aware of. Largely because it’s illegal. “Do please elaborate.”
“For appearances, we operate under Cadrion’s strategic direction—save for the law firm, of course—governed by theirofficialboard. However, there’s also a shadow board, not on any org charts. We’re more aligned than we appear.” He presses his lips together, regarding me. “Given the… uh…flexibilityyou’ve shown, I assume this doesn’t make you uncomfortable?”
Or in other words, you tell on us, we tell on you. “Keep going.”
But he doesn’t. He leans back in his chair while more staff arrive with our entrées, explaining the necessary pause. I cut a piece of venison loin, barely tasting it while I wait for him to continue.
He’s several mouthfuls into his filet mignon before he points his fork at me and speaks again. “Let’s cutto the chase. More responsibility, more autonomy. Results are what matter; methodology is flexible. Oh, and we run some social events that will enable you to network. Lean into the connections we have. Favors for favors, and so on.” A pause. “We’ve been operating this way for some time, Alexander. Quiet, efficient, and built on foundations of loyalty.”
“That doesn’t sound like a board.”
“It’s larger. The Company is… more a society.”
