“We’ve known each other for years, yet I’m only familiar with your career-driven side.”
“I only have one side, Raffael. The side gunning for a CEO title. And you’re proof it requires obsession, not hobbies.”
“You’re aiming for CEO?” He swirls his Dalmore, eyes narrowing.
“Of course.” Did he not know my entire working life has been for the sole purpose to one day take over the family business? Or worse, does he doubt my capabilities? “You don’t think I’m good enough to run CrossPoint?”
“You’re good enough to run the world. I just didn’t think you’d settle.”
“I wouldn’t call it settling.”
“I would, given your talent. Why sit at the head of one boardroom when you could dictate what happens in many of them?”
I frown. “Meaning?”
“CrossPoint is a supporting act—always playing second stage no matter how loud the applause. You could run it, sure, but you’d be boxed in and selling yourself short.”
“A supporting act?” I bristle. “We’ve built a reputation even billionaires trust. Our analysis makes or breaks all those outlandish deals of yours.”
“Exactly. I’m making billion-dollar deals while you’re filing reports that help me sleep at night. That’s not power, Isla. That’s paperwork. Don’t you want to be the one calling the shots?”
My cheeks heat. From embarrassment? Shame?
Not once have I considered my family’s company less than. We’re sought after. In high demand. Our record is squeaky goddamn clean—that’s why investors demand our seal of approval.
“Are you trying to insult me?” I lower my gaze to my tumbler, my fingertips skating the rim.
“No.” His voice carries no hint of apology. “I’m trying to offer you a job.”
My gaze snaps to his.
“Work for me,” he says with a lazy swirl of his glass. “I want you to head our strategic investments division. You’d be building and tearing down empires, not merely analyzing spreadsheets in boardrooms. You’d have global reach. Entire industries at your feet. You won’t gain a CEO title, but you’d be the woman who shapes markets. The one who dictates moves no one else dares to attempt.”
I stare at him, every professional defense I’ve sharpened over the years momentarily stripped bare.
I’ve been destined to run CrossPoint since conception. That’s all there’s ever been. All I thought there’d ever be. And up until this moment, I’d been perfectly content with that.
Now my insides are scrambling to climb up my throat.
“So that’s what all this has been about?” An awkward laugh bubbles from me as I awkwardly gesture toward the whiskey, my feet, his lap. “A long lead into a job offer?”
“You’re the best of the best, Isla, and you’re barely getting started. I can’t be the first to try and steal you away from your father.”
He is though. The first and only.
This industry is still so sickeningly male driven.
When I started at CrossPoint, all I asked was to be introduced as Isla—no legacy, no silver spoon, no shadow of my father’s name. I wanted to build a reputation on my own merit.
But for years, my reports were met with condescending smirks at boardroom tables. The male attention quickly skimmed past me to the nearest man for confirmation of my findings like I was the intern delivering coffee rather than the one offering to reshape their bottom line.
That’s why becoming CEO means everything to me. I want a title to stake through the hearts of their misogyny. A crown they can’t ignore.
Which is why working for Raffael isn’t enough.
“It’s a very generous offer.” I divert my gaze to the city skyline over his shoulder. “But I have to decline.”
He remains silent.
