Moonlighter (The Company, #1)(55)

Whitbread doesn’t believe it, though. He thinks my father still calls the shots. Either that, or he just says these things to irritate me.

“Look,” I demand. “Do you have a legal issue with The Butler? Because that’s where your expertise starts and stops. There are a dozen people on my staff more qualified to weigh in on the financials, thanks.”

At first he only blinks, because I don’t usually clap back so directly. Then his expression darkens. “I’ve been at this company a long time, little miss. The reason we’re still here is that we don’t bet more on a new product than we can afford to lose.”

“The reason we’re still here,” I say quietly, “is because I’ve stopped the bleeding.” Every cable company saw a slump as streaming became more popular. But I’ve turned the ship around. “Furthermore, pet names are an inappropriate form of address.”

“Oh, please.” He actually rolls his eyes. “I’ve known you since you had pigtails and braces.” Which is factually untrue. “It’s a term of endearment.”

“Then save it for someone who finds it endearing.” My voice is ice cold. But I am done with this man second guessing me in meetings. No matter that he’s a good lawyer who keeps us out of trouble. I will not be treated like a pre-teen by this entitled ass.

“Well.” Whitbread pushes back his chair and stands suddenly. “Don’t let me keep you.” He marches out of the room and flings the door shut behind himself.

I put my head in my hands the moment he’s gone. Lashing out at him was probably stupid. Not that he doesn’t deserve it. But I shouldn’t give his criticism so much weight.

He doesn’t matter, I remind myself. He’s just bitter that I’m sitting in the CEO’s office instead of him. There’s not one person on the board who thinks he has the vision to run this company.

I’m out on a limb with The Butler, though. And he knows it. This product has to be a success. If it’s not, the company will lose a pile of money. But worse than that, my credibility will suffer. My next big idea will be harder to launch. And I’ll have nobody to blame but myself.

Sixty seconds later, Rolf rushes into my office. “Got a minute before you go? There are messages. First of all, it’s raining hockey players…”

“Hockey players?” I sit up straighter.

He places a message on my desk. “Eric Bayer called. He doesn’t have your cell number, apparently. And I wouldn’t give it to him.”

“Oh.” I feel my pulse quicken. He called. That makes me feel like a teenager waiting for a prom date. And that’s ridiculous, because we were never going to be a couple.

“So, here’s his number.” Rolf slides the paper toward me. “And then—this afternoon is hockey themed, apparently—Nate Kattenberger’s assistant called to invite you to the Hamptons benefit that they throw every year. Hockey players at a cocktail party. And some kind of golf thing. I wrote the website address down right here.” He slides another paper toward me.

“Thank you. Now, who’s this visitor?”

“That’s the weird part.” Rolf braces both hands on my desk. “He just got off the elevator and asked to see you. His name is Xian Smith, and he said it was urgent.”

“Seriously?” I’d missed my meeting with him in Hawaii, by virtue of my early departure. And he’s called twice to ask for other meetings. But I just haven’t found the time. And urgent implies that we have business together. Which we do not. “How did he get in the building?”

Rolf shrugs. “No idea. He has a visitor’s badge, too.”

“Bring him in. And then take a seat as well.”

Rolf disappears, and for a moment I wonder if I’ve made the right call. It takes balls to talk your way into the CEO’s office. And now I’m rewarding that behavior.

But I had agreed to meet with him under other circumstances. So asking security to escort him out would be over the top?

“Ms. Engels.” I look up to see him framed in my doorway. He’s so imposing, and I’m not sure why. He’s a tall man, but slim. His expression is flinty, though. I have no idea why I find it unsettling. “Thank you so much for allowing me to impose like this.”

“I have five minutes,” I say, just to remind him that I know I’ve been manipulated. But it sounds bitchy, so I stand up to shake his hand. “I’m sorry I was unable to keep our meeting in Hawaii. I left the conference earlier than I’d planned.”

“That is perfectly all right. Medical problem, I heard?”

A tingle of unease runs down my spine. But I keep my face impassive. “Turned out to be nothing. Have a seat.”

He sits down opposite me, and Rolf casually takes the other chair, a pad of paper in his lap.

“I’ll get right to the point, Alex. I was impressed by your keynote in Hawaii. But not everyone can be trusted to manufacture The Butler. And I think you’ll be making a grave error if we don’t work together.”

Oh please. It’s the classic hard sell. “What sort of grave error?” I ask, just to hear what he’ll say.

“Change is coming to Shenzhen—both political and social. The older players will no longer be reliable.” He says all of this in a voice that’s slow and serious. Like the sound of someone predicting the end of the world. “And their new rivals will be overrun with demand. I can help you navigate this shift and bring your Butler to market without delay.”