I’ve brought a copy of the results sheet that Caesar liked for everyone, and I get a lot of startled glances as they finally comprehend the system’s potential.
“Why didn’t you tell us about this before?” Dad says, looking baffled.
I stifle a sigh, because I know there’s no point in saying I’ve tried many times to convince them my work is valid and worth pursuing.
Eventually, Gramps leans forward on the table, hands linked. “And Caesar was excited about this system?”
I nod. “But he’s very anxious about letting us get a foothold in his company. I tried to get him to think about the biggerpicture and concentrate on what this could mean for the farming industry. But he’s cynical and wary.” I hesitate. I would normally never criticize my grandfather, because I respect him and his business sense. But he needs to know why Caesar might not play ball. “His brother told him you’d brought the date forward,” I say. “And he put two and two together and made the connection that I’d spoken to you. It didn’t endear me in his eyes, I have to say.” I try not to think about the fact that we had sex afterward.
“We needed to put pressure on them,” Gramps states. “Ultimately, the decision is the board’s, not his alone.”
The talk goes on for a while, and I zone out. My gaze drifts to the window as I wonder what Caesar’s thinking about. Has he made any decision about the business? Did I manage to convince him?
Has he thought about me at all?
“Maddie?”
My head snaps around as Gramps says my name. “Sorry.”
“I was just asking whether you could produce an initial report regarding the possible integration of the soil restoration system, the AI optimization model, and Ashford’s pasture management system. I’d like to send it to Edward on Thursday, before the Friday deadline. Could you do that?”
“Yes, of course.”
“Great,” Gramps says. “You did a fantastic job bringing Caesar as close to the table as you did.” He glances around the table, amused. “Maybe we should send you to every negotiation.”
Everyone chuckles, and one of my aunts says, “Men like Caesar always think with their dicks.” It’s a crude, unfair description of him, and the laughter that erupts stings.
But even though Caesar suspected it was a setup, he still slept with me. Therewassomething between us. And because of that, like the sun coming out, my mind is made up.
“That’s incredibly inappropriate,” I snap, getting to my feet.
They all look surprised—I never speak my mind like that at meetings. “Steady on,” Dad says. “It was just a joke, love.”
“It was inappropriate because I’m pregnant.”
Everyone’s jaw drops.
“What?” Brielle asks, shocked I haven’t told her.
“Who’s the father?” Gramps asks.
I can see the gleam of excitement in his eyes. He wants it to be Caesar’s because he thinks then he can use the baby as leverage.
But Brielle, bless her, asks, “How many weeks are you?” which allows me to say, “Ten,” and his excitement dies down. Clearly, conception couldn’t have happened over the weekend.
“It’s Peter’s?” Brielle asks.
I look down, close my laptop, and pick it up. “It’s mine,” I say firmly. And with that, I turn and walk from the room.
Chapter Eighteen
Caesar
Dad has given me until Wednesday to process what I learned at Blackridge before reporting to the board, and I spend two whole days trying to untangle my thoughts while quietly fuming at the world.
I can’t concentrate on anything. Meetings bore me. Figures blur. Reports drone on. I’m useless at the company, and I’m angry because of it.
They say that when a person loses their sight, their other senses become enhanced to compensate. A similar thing happens to me. I lose the ability to see clearly, and instead all I can think about is Maddie. The aroma of her perfume and the scent of her body. How soft her skin was beneath my fingers, and the silky texture of her white hair. Her delightful giggles and the sounds she made when she came. The sweet, sweet taste of her on my tongue.
