Fifth Avenue Devil

Chapter 3

Three

Nate

I sit at the end of the table in my meeting room, staring at the CEO of HardDig, Davis White. Davis is wearing a rumpled suit, a tie stained with food, and even though it is cold in my office, he is sweating.

I look down at the file folder in front of me, frowning as I leaf through the stack of papers. It's just a bunch of blank sheets, but Davis doesn't know that.

I've insinuated that it is his file.

What file? I didn't say whether it is from the police, the FBI, or just a private eye. I don't need to, either.

Because as far as Davis knows, it contains all of his misdeeds, from HardDig, all the way back to cheating off some other kid when he was in kindergarten.

I pin Davis with a look and give him a grim little smile. "So... Davis. You've been a very bad boy, apparently."

"Mr. Fordham, I think there has been a misunderstanding." He mops his brow. "I don't even understand why I'm here."

I give him a frank look. "Really? You don't understand why the CEO of a well digging company would be asked to meet the CEO of a company that makes its money primarily from finding oil?"

He swallows. "Sure, but?—"

I hold up a hand to stop him from further explaining.

"Davis, let's cut to the chase. I'm too busy for any more foreplay. You have been claiming losses for HardDig with the IRS for three straight years. But I have it on very good authority that you have a second set of books that hide the fact that your company earned north of thirty million dollars last year alone."

Davis looks like he's been hit in the face with a frying pan. His mouth opens and closes. "Mr. Fordham?—"

"Here's what is going to happen. You're going to sell HardDig to ViaLife for a million dollars. I will take over the company. You'll get a golden parachute of... let's say, ten million. And we don't call the IRS and rat you out." I give him a smile as sharp as a razor blade. "How does that sound?"

He looks petrified. "I... I don't know..."

I stand up, checking my watch. "I think we're done here. Sign the papers or be prepared to see the IRS on your doorstep tomorrow. I'll be able to buy your company assets when they are auctioned off by the government. This is just a faster way for me to get them, and also the only way that you escape prison."

"P-prison?" he gasps. "I can't go to prison!"

I turn toward the glass door of the conference room and beckon for my assistant to enter the room.

Sal pushes the door open with a questioning expression. "All set?" he asks.

Davis is weeping and wiping his face. I jerk my thumb toward him. "He's agreed to sign. Get him the paperwork."

I stride out of the meeting room without another word, leaving the sobbing man behind. By the time I take a few steps into the hallway, my thoughts have already left this situation behind. I pass by a few glass-doored offices before I reach mine.

My office is the size of six smaller offices and it has the corner view of downtown Manhattan that any reasonable human being would kill for. Right now, I see a buttery leather wingback chair, a marble-topped chrome coffee table, and a sumptuous leather couch upon which a dark head is currently resting. It can only belong to one of my brothers; no one else has my permission to be in here when I'm not present.

I push open the office door and walk the ten paces to my huge slate desk. Perching on the edge with a sigh, I see that my visitor is indeed a Fordham. Cash is stretched out on my Maison Tallairdat couch, leaving scuff marks from his leather wingtips on the seat cushion. He greets me without looking up from his phone.

"Hey Nate." He continues swiping and typing on the small screen.

"Cash." I cock my head. "What brings you here?"

He keeps looking at his phone. "What happened to all the hot, available women in Manhattan?" he complains. "I'm in a real hot girl desert."

"Well, you've slept with most of the women in New York, married and unmarried. And since you profess to only have one-night stands..." I lift my shoulders in a shrug. "Honestly, if you hadn't gone to L.A. for a few years, you'd probably have encountered this issue before now."

Cash sighs and puts his phone on his chest. "Damn. I was afraid you'd say that."

I wait a few more seconds for him to get to the point. Then I pointedly check my wristwatch. "I assume that there is a point to you loafing on my couch?"

Cash sits up. "Do you feel like going downstairs for a drink?"

"It's three thirty, Cash."

"So?" He shoots me a dirty look. "You're worse than James and Grant. None of you are any fun."

I pin him with a look. Cash sticks out his lower lip and makes a begging gesture with his hands.

Shaking my head, I reach behind me to my massive slate desk and press the intercom button. When my personal secretary answers, I ask her to bring in two tumblers of superfine Japanese whiskey. She brings them in on a tray and then retreats, leaving us to sip our drinks in silence.

"Why are you really here?" I eventually prompt Cash. "Is it related to the Grecian papers?"

Cash shakes his head and stands up. Walking over to the window, he looks out at the crossing of Fifth Avenue and East 87 th Street. Miniature people rush around below, cars zoom by haphazardly, and two buses nearly collide while he stands there.

"I looked into Gellar Industries."

That's not what I expected him to say. I did ask him to make inquiries. But honestly, I'd kind of forgotten, since it's been a few weeks since Archer Gellar literally died right in front of me. What can I say? My attention has been in demand every second since then.

I'm the CEO of ViaLife, one of the biggest multi-billion-dollar industries on the planet.

"And?" I prompt. "What'd you find out?"

"Gellar was expected to have entrusted his company to his VP, Don Young. You know Don, we were on that yachting team to raise money for..." Cash pauses, screwing up his face.

"Children's cancer,” I supply.

"That's the ticket. Short guy, light hair, dresses like he just fell out of a 1970s Sears catalog?"

"Yeah, I remember. He was a stickler for the rules."

"That's him. Anyway, Gellar didn't appoint him as his successor. He appointed his daughter, Annalise."

I set down my whiskey, raising my eyebrows.

"Annalise? She doesn't have a business degree or anything, right?"

He grins and paces back toward me. "Nope."

Ugh. Of course Archer Gellar named his bratty daughter head of the company in his absence. It’s what I expected, but still a disappointing move from a man I considered more or less a peer. I shake my head.

"I don't know why Archer would appoint his daughter. He doesn't really seem like the type to care about family."

"I don't know why. I asked, and nobody seems to have an answer,” Cash goes on. “It's a bit of a mystery."

"It should make things easy for me. Annalise is a soft-spoken little thing. She's probably pretty stressed and overwhelmed, but she's doing it because her daddy said so."

"Could be." Cash drains the contents of his tumbler.

"I shouldn't have any problem buying the company outright, then. She's inexperienced and probably a pretty weak negotiator. It should be a piece of cake."

It should be a simple enough maneuver. And I like to think I’m a shrewd deal maker. As long as the girl doesn’t put up a lot of resistance, I should be able to move on with my life and forget this ever happened.

Cash sighs. "I looked up her photo on the Gellar Industries website. If you could do me a solid and not shatter her into a million pieces, that'd be great. I definitely want a crack at her after you're done, and I don't want a slobbering, whimpering mess. That's way too much emotion for me to handle."

I look at the ceiling briefly. "Cash, you are certainly welcome to the girl once I'm done. But if she puts up resistance to me buying her company, I'm going to crush her into fine dust."

"You sure about that?" He whips out his phone and shows me a photo. A sweet young blonde in a gray Chanel jacket, smiling at the camera. She looks almost exactly as I remember her.

Soft.

Sweet.

As tough as dandelion fluff.

Cash's phone starts ringing while he holds it up to my face. It’s Drew Hastings, ViaLife’s VP. He turns it around and curses.

"Shit, I should take this."

"Take it on the way out. I have to work a full day, unlike you, apparently."

He mouths goodbye as he heads toward the door. Propping his phone between his shoulder and his ear, Cash swans out of my office as he answers. "Is it done?" I hear his voice receding down the hallway.

Pushing out a long breath, I walk around my desk and sit in my leather chair. I set my tumbler aside and I turn toward the window. From this vantage point, I have a nice view of the azure Central Park Reservoir. This is my favorite spot to think.

I think about Annalise Gellar and how I'm going to dominate her the second we meet.

I think about how lonely I am, and how I could plan a date on the same apps my brother Cash frequents. But the last time I did, I felt much lonelier after the sex was over. My loneliness is at war with my personal quest for dominion over this whole damn city.

No one wants what I want. And no one needs to dominate like I do.

I decide to pull up my luxury realty app and peruse the multimillion-dollar listings until I hit a compound in Aspen that looks manicured and immaculate. I buy it without a moment's hesitation. I contact my property broker and tell her the property address before writing SOLD in solid block letters.

The satisfaction makes the threatening loneliness quiet down for a moment. Maybe only for tonight, or the next few days. Still, it's better than nothing.

Then I Google Annalise Gellar and scroll through her pictures, trying to formulate just what I'm going to say to her when I see her next.