“I don’t understand. What’s your angle?”
I frown. “What does that mean?”
“I have no more power at Reservoir. Not that I had much to begin with. Whatever you and your boss, Satan, wanted to con out of me? I don’t have it to give anymore.”
I pull her closer, trying to stifle my frustration. “You know what? Fuck that little speech of yours, right along with your attitude. And fuck your father, too. I. Am. Here. For. You. Got it? I’m going to spend the afternoon taking care of you. You’re going to let me. And by tonight, we’ll have a new plan.”
Sloan looks up at me, her blue eyes misty like a rain-soaked sky. “You’re crazy.”
I brush the hair from her face and cup her chin. “I never said I wasn’t. Now let me hold you, goddamn it.”
She throws herself against me and buries her face in my suit coat, sniffling again. “I hate to cry.”
“Today, it’s good for you. Get it all out.”
To my shock, Sloan does. She stops arguing, holding back, and giving me excuses. She simply gives in and lets me comfort her.
I feel like I’ve won a fucking gold medal and the lottery at once. And, wrapping my arms tighter around her, I pull her closer, absorb her pain, and swear I’ll do everything I can to turn this around for her.
Serendipitously, Sloan falls asleep at four o’clock—after I order a pizza with her favorite toppings, find a bottle of her go-to Cab, and encourage her to take a relaxing bath. It’s sweet when she drifts off in my arms afterward, bitter when I have to leave her in bed alone, call an Uber, and prepare to do battle with Bruce Rawson.
The time to enact my plan is now.
I arrive at his palatial place in the most prestigious part of Dallas, one full of old homes and generational wealth. The old man, despite being visibly ill, is still salty and tough. He’s been around decades longer than me and tries a hundred ways to get the upper hand. But once I show him the video of Shane, he falters. The balance sheet makes him crumble altogether.
The whole confrontation is over in twenty minutes.
“What do you want?”
His voice cracks in defeat. The triumph I expected to feel isn’t there.
I lay out my list of demands. He mulls them over with a frown.
“A loan? You’re not going to simply wait for Reservoir to go belly up and scoop it up like a vulture?”
Normally, I would. And Evan would back me up. Logically, that would make the most sense. But where Sloan is involved, I’m not remotely logical.
“No. If you agree to everything I’ve outlined—in writing—we won’t. Renege on any part of this and—”
“I understand. But surely, you can’t mean…” He sighs. “Your plans for Sloan—”
Now he acts like the concerned father? “Are not up for negotiation. That’s the deal. Take it or leave it.”
Of course he takes it. I’ve backed him into a corner.
I leave victorious, but I’m hardly satisfied.
In the Uber back to Sloan’s place, I call Evan.
“Bas, what’s going on there?”
I let out a long breath and hope like fuck I’m doing the right thing. “It’s done.”
“You got Reservoir to agree to our terms for the loan?”
“Verbally, yeah. The deal will be final a week from tomorrow. We’ll need to fund them then.”
“Despite Shane Rawson calling me at oh-dark-thirty this morning to tell me he’s going to smear Stratus’s name everywhere because you’re a fraud, you still managed to pull it off? Good job!”