As her cheeks heated, she cleared her throat. “Of course. I like to be thorough, ensuring I cover your current holdings, your minimum requirements for growth and my recommendations for maximizing your returns ad infinitum.”
His sharp inhale made her insides quiver. “Sounds comprehensive.”
“You’ll want for nothing more.” She allowed an extra beat of silence. “I encourage questions, but please hold them until the end. Are you capable of taking notes?”
“Are you being patronizing?”
“Who? Me?”
“Anything else?”
“You tell me. You’re the one who called.”
“Vonn Savage will pick you up at one. Does that work?”
“Yes.”
“Finally, we have agreement.” She could hear a brief smile in his voice. “Brigit, I need a SWOT analysis by tomorrow.”
She rolled her eyes.That’ll take hours.
“Do you know what that is?”
“If I said no, would that eliminate my having to do it?”
“Include strengths, weaknesses, opportunities and threats in your financial report.”
“I don’t suppose refusing you is going to fly.”
“Correct.”
“Email me the details, unless you need a minion to do it, because, like cell phones, computers are beyond your technological abilities. See you tomorrow.”
Chuckling, he ended the call.
Brigit continued fine-tuning her presentation until the bing of an incoming email snagged her attention. Skimming his request, her temples throbbed. “Oh, no.” Colton needed information on MobiCom, Francesco’s biggest competitor. Was he severing his longtime association with her company and cozying up with the enemy?
Dammit!I forgot to take Melvin the money for the additional shares of Francesco stock.After scribbling the check, she scooted outside to the corner mailbox. Being investigated for insider trading because she provided a prospective client with a SWOT analysis on the competition seemed far-fetched, but she wasn’t takinganychances when it came to Francesco. “There’s no way I’m failing my parents again.” She scurried inside and bolted the door. Her dad’s dying wish was that she make Francesco her own.
I’m going to get our company back, Daddy. This time no one will stand in my way.
At promptly oneo’clockon Friday, Brigit’s doorbell rang.
“Good day, ma’am. Vonn Savage, Mitus Conglomerate. May I take your bags?”
Sporting a crew cut and bulging muscles that stretched against his black suit, Vonn placed her bags into the trunk of the Bentley. He held open the back door of the silver luxury vehicle while she slipped inside.Mr. Fancy Pants is going all out.
Once settled into the driver’s seat, Vonn asked, “Would you like music, Miss Farnay?”
“Please call me Brigit. Frank Sinatra or Michael Bublé would be great.”
Within seconds, the timeless crooning of Ol’ Blue Eyes surrounded her. She could hear her mom—Sittall, Eve—so she sat upright, leaned against the plush leather seat and smoothed the creases on her winter white suit.
Fiddling with the silver Yurman bracelet clinging to her wrist, bittersweet memories came racing back. The sentimental piece had been the last birthday gift from her parents. A constant reminder of a life she’d loved and lost.
As the car weaved its way out of the city, the hustle and bustle of Georgetown disappeared, replaced by the tranquil drive along the tree-lined G.W. Parkway in Northern Virginia. The ride was less than forty minutes, but felt like an eternity. In the heart of Great Falls, Virginia, and nestled behind a private drive, sat fifty acres of prime real estate. Mitus Mansion, Colton’s impenetrable fortress, served as both his residence and his office.
Years earlier, Eve’s numerous requests to meet with Colton went ignored, save for one dismissive email. Determined to speak with him, she’d hopped a plane to Dulles. Through the intercom at the compound gates, a woman had informed her that Mr. Mitus was unavailable. Rebuffed again, she left.
