Rebound (Boomerang #2)(12)
I’d considered going public with Boomerang to raise the money I need, but Graham Quick is a much better option. I’m not ready to do an IPO yet and Graham has deep pockets. He’s smart enough to know a moneymaking opportunity when he sees one. We both win if he puts his money in my hands.
“Yep, Alison Quick!” Cookie confirms in a weirdly loud voice. “That’s the one! Well, guess what, Adam? She’s here!”
“She is?” I frown, surprised I hadn’t heard about this sooner. I’ve been dealing with Graham Quick and his lawyers for weeks now, but his daughter is a new development. I only just discovered she was running point on the due diligence this week. Cookie met her on a video conference call on Friday, which I couldn’t make, so it’ll be good to do the intros tonight. “Okay. I’ll track her down when I get a chance.”
Cookie gives me a smile that could penetrate a tank. “Honestly, I think that’s a good idea, and a little overdue.” She looks from me to Catwoman. “See you at the office, Ms. Quick?”
Time freezes. The earth stops rotating. Everything just stops.
“You can call me Alison, Cookie,” says the clear voice just behind me. “See you Monday.”
“Swell,” Cookie says; then she swivels on her heel and leaves.
I count to five, then I face Catwoman.
Alison Quick.
The daughter of the man who can change my future.
“This is a surprise.” It’s all I have right now. All I can manage. I run my hand over my forehead, rubbing away the lingering pressure of the mask. I don’t know how to process this moment. I can’t tell if I want to laugh or punch something. I feel like I’ve just had a cold shower and been hit in the head with a two-by-four.
I know what my image is in the business world. Hotshot, young, brash. A playboy, because I date beautiful women and drive fast cars. Doesn’t matter how well I run my business, that’s what the old-school guys see. They judge me. Until they get to know me, they worry, like one day I’m going to pick up a drug habit, gamble away my millions and go bankrupt, leaving the business I love high and dry.
Bullshit. Just because I’m young and I like to have fun doesn’t mean I’m a moron.
Graham Quick is no different. I have sources on the inside at Quick Enterprises. I know for a fact that Graham’s nervous about my reputation. So, really, the last thing I should do on this earth is fool around with his daughter.
Catwoman—Alison—crosses her arms, her posture upright and tense, like the Oscar statue.
“Sorry about all this,” I say, even though she’s been into it just as much as me.
“It’s okay.” But she doesn’t look like she thinks it’s okay. She looks anxious and uptight, like she wants to make a run for it. “We didn’t know, Adam. It was an honest mistake.”
Mistake.
That word lands like a kick to the stomach. It reminds me of the moment we had in the Murano, what I said to her. Jesus. Did I just tell my potential investor that I have trouble sleeping at night? Fuck. I want to hit Delete on the last hour.
My company is my life. It’s the only positive thing I’ve done. To keep it healthy and growing, I need an influx of money. I want a production studio. I want a full-length film in the pipeline by this time next year. For that, I need financial backing. I need Quick Enterprises.
I also want this girl—badly—but I need this money.
Wanted this girl. Past tense. Past tense, because this ends right now.
“Right. An honest mistake,” I say, echoing her statement. “I’d never have done this if I’d known who you are.”
“Exactly,” she says, sweeping her thick blond braid over her shoulder. “Me neither.”
“It’s not like we did anything significant,” I say, just making words. Stupid, idiotic words.
She nods. “Right.”
I don’t know what else to say. Looking forward to the business lunch we have scheduled on Monday?
This is the first moment that’s felt awkward between us, I realize, and I can’t have that. I can’t jeopardize my plans. I have to straighten things out right now.
“Listen, Alison. I’ll talk to Cookie. She won’t say anything. Let’s just forget tonight ever happened. We’ll start with a clean slate on Monday. All right?”
“Sure. That sounds good. Great.” Her blue eyes are steady, but her lips wobble when she smiles. “Already forgotten.”
Chapter 7
Alison
On Monday, Philippe and I sit in the first-floor coffee shop of the office building where Boomerang is headquartered. I’ve stalled for fifteen minutes, and with each minute I’ve felt more agitated, less prepared. Strangely enough, I couldn’t find any tips in Modern Entrepreneur magazine for handling a business meeting with someone you straddled in a Catwoman costume less than forty-eight hours ago.
Philippe stops me from sorting through a stack of papers I’ve already sorted a hundred times.
“Look, Ali,” he says, removing them gently from my hands to put them back in my briefcase, which he snaps shut with sharp emphasis. “You made out with the wrong boy, but you—”
“I shouldn’t have made out with any boy,” I say. “That’s the problem. I was there to work.”