Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 91058 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 455(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91058 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 455(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
“Someone talked,” Bethany says emphatically. “An informant. Either that or Chapman is just getting spooked about the DOJ’s decision and they don’t want to have to pay that fee.”
Every head in the room swivels in Hudson’s direction, waiting for his response. He’s the least pissed person in the room. Even I feel enraged over this issue, and I’ve barely dipped my toe into this merger.
He shrugs. “Either way, it’s irrelevant. Chapman knew KinBio’s financial profile well before today, and we’ll be able to prove that. They’ve had three years to perform their due diligence. If they try to renege on the deal now, they’ll have to pay that breakup fee.”
He sounds so absolute, so sure of every word that comes out of his mouth. I realize I’m still staring at him, mouth agape, long after he’s finished talking, but it’s only because I’m slightly amazed by him. He’s horrible or whatever, but he’s also…brilliant.
I want to be just like him. I want him to teach me his ways step by step.
“You put the breakup fee in the contract.”
It’s not a question.
His brown gaze slides over to me. “I did.”
Even with us all on the same page about what’s going on, the fact remains: we have a lot of work ahead of us if KinBio has to go up against Chapman International in court.
I won’t be going anywhere anytime soon. Good thing Moira is already taken care of. Two months ago, on one of my late-night shopping sprees, I bought an automatic cat feeder for her. It’s just a little food dispenser I can use on days when I get home really late. She hates it, of course. She’s tried to dismantle it on multiple occasions. I can sense her fury even from a distance.
Out in the sitting area, Bethany sets me on a task, and I’m about to make myself comfortable on the floor when Hudson barks my name from his office door on his way to get more pizza.
“What are you doing?”
I look up and blink in confusion. Everyone is staring at me accusatorially, like, Good going! You pissed him off!
Have I missed something? Did he not realize I was here the whole time? The one feeding him pizza?
“You don’t have to sit on the floor,” he clarifies, flipping open pizza boxes, trying to decide between his options. “There’s room in there.”
He means in his office.
“Oh.”
There’s an audible sigh of relief from the senior associates as if they’re glad he’s not going to totally annihilate me. It’s not that they care about my well-being; it’s that they’ve got enough on their plate without having to worry about skirting around blood on the ground.
I scoop up my things and re-enter the devil’s lair. It’s weird how much easier it gets each time I do it. Eventually, I’ll be stepping into the underworld without so much as a blink.
“Please don’t be annoying, just sit down” is Hudson’s advice to me as he reclaims his seat and motions for me to take the one he already got for me.
He’s…offering to share his desk. He even shoves aside some papers to clear more room for my stuff.
He’s a partner. He could quite literally order me to work from a grubby toilet seat in a tiny bathroom stall down the hall and I would be like, Yes, of course. Let me get right on that.
Well…with any other partner, that’s what I’d say. With Hudson, I’d probably argue. A little.
The point is, this is nice of him, and I don’t know how I feel about that. Maybe we’re both a bit weirded out about the arrangement because we work in silence for a good long while. I start to get a slight crick in my back, and I stretch my arms overhead, trying in vain to work out the kink that won’t go away.
I feel Hudson’s attention on me and look over to see two deep wrinkles between his brows.
“You can go home, you know.”
I smile like, Yeah, duh. “I know.”
“But you’re going to stay.” He says it like I exasperate him.
I shrug. “Looks like it.”
A few minutes later, I make a point of toeing off my heels and crossing my legs up under me. Formality can go to hell for all I care because it’s later than late, my little toesies have been stuck in these high heels for the better part of fourteen hours, and I’m not enduring it for one more patriarchal second. Hudson notices, of course. His brown eyes drift over my legs, but he manages to keep any biting-slash-witty-slash-devastating remarks to himself before he turns back to his work.
And I have to say, I’m kind of disappointed.
I continue my task, reviewing and highlighting, reading and reading and reading. My eyes are about to go permanently crossed. I rub them, probably smearing my mascara beyond repair. Then—