Jagged Salvation: A Dark Contemporary Romance Novel (Salvation Trilogy Book 1) Page 2

  Everyone nodded politely to each other.

  I sighed. Apparently, they weren’t that prepared. More’s the pity.

  “Please help yourself to breakfast,” I said. “Thank you for taking such an early appointment.”

  The CEO nodded. “We ate early. Thank you for seeing us.”

  I laced my fingers together and settled in. “I’ve read through your proposal. While the concept is good, it leaves too much unaccounted for. We’ve worked up a counterproposal.” Ben came in and handed out the packets.

  I gave everyone time to read through it. I knew the thing by heart; I’d written it after all. A deal this big wasn’t something I was going to hand out to some junior hotshot straight out of school.

  Sipping some coffee, I sat in silence. I could practically hear their mental wheels grinding in rage. Their facial expressions were certainly entertaining to watch.

  Another face came to mind. Full lips, high dark brows, and golden skin framed by rich, dark brown hair. Her black dress had looked tailored to her curvy form. And the angle of her chin when she’d called me out had me wanting to bite it.

  With an aggravated shove, I brought myself back to the room around me. That nameless woman had no place here. I had better things to do.

  The CEO let the packet slap back to the table. “You’ve got to be joking, Hardin. That’s a thinly veiled takeover, not a merger.”

  I allowed my brow to wrinkle. “It was thinly veiled?” I looked up and over to Ben. “Make a note, I need to be more forthcoming in my language.”

  The CEO slammed a trembling fist on the table. His hazel eyes were narrowed. “Don’t mock me, son. You don’t want to tangle with me.”

  I raised a single brow at the tantrum. “Actually, Mr. Bandforth, I do want to tangle with you. You came here with false reports, unbacked numbers, and thought I would swallow what you wanted to shove down my throat. You didn’t even offer to buy me dinner. I didn’t get to where I am today by being stupid.”

  “No, you did it by stepping on anyone and anything,” Harry Bandforth spat back. His balding head was bright cherry red under the subdued light.

  I nodded. “Exactly. I’m not sorry for it either. You knew that before you came to me trying to take advantage of my company’s reputation and profit margin. You knew that when you sent your sweet little girl to my bed hoping to soften me up.”

  Shifting to the side, I grabbed up a piece of dark lace. “You can give this back to her, by the way. She left it in my office earlier.” I tossed the black bra Carina had left on my desk at her furious father. “Don’t pretend moral outrage or shock that I’m behaving exactly as you expected. Your daughter is adequate in the sack, but she isn’t worth joining my business to yours. But now that I’ve had a chance to go over all of your reports, I’ve decided I’ll take your business for myself. You clearly don’t know how to run it.”

  I nodded my head at Ben.

  He got up and handed out the second packet to everyone. “Here’s the contract to buy you out. You’ll find that it’s more than fair. Certainly fairer than what you offered me the first time around. Since you brought your lawyers, I’ll even give you until the end of the day to sign it. If you don’t, I’ll simply buy it out from under you. Publicly traded companies make so much sense…if you like to live by committee. As you can see, I’ve already signed it in front of witnesses. There will be no modifications nor any addendums. Sign it or walk out.”

  Gathering up my stuff, I got up and headed for the door. “I’ll just wait for your signatures in my office.” I nodded to my West Coast office staff and left the room.

  Walking back into my office, I set everything down on the desk. Shrugging off my suit coat again, I moved across the room and plopped down on the couch. When would the world learn that I was here to stay? That I didn’t play by their rules? Hell, I didn’t even acknowledge their rules, but they still tried to trap me with them.

  I might come from nothing, nor did I have a family name that stretched back generations, but I wasn’t an idiot. And I certainly wasn’t willing to take something for nothing. But just like the stupid women who sought me out expecting more than a quick fuck, their daddies were just as dumb.

  I blew out a breath, smiled at the ceiling. Today was definitely looking up.

  My desk phone beeped.

  Getting off the couch, I moved over and opened the call. “Hardin.”

  “Good morning, Mr. Hardin. This is Abigail Gillycuddy from the West Coast office. We have the signed contracts. Bandforth Global is officially under the Hardin Industries name.”

  My smile turned fierce. I’d known they wouldn’t be able to do anything else. I’d made sure of it. “Excellent, Ms. Gillycuddy. Were there any issues?”

  “No, sir, Mr. Hardin. The lawyers’ faces went white, but they told Mr. Bandforth to sign it. We’d wrapped everything up too tight for them to bicker.”

  Too damn right we did. “You and your team have done well. Thank you.” I ended the call. Taking a seat behind my desk, I started going through the paperwork that had just been delivered to my inbox. Buying out companies was easy. The paperwork, though…that was a pain in the ass. But it was essential, so I gave it my time and undivided attention.

  Most of the time, my acquisitions teams took care of this kind of thing. They were good at it. I paid them very well to be good at it. Bandforth’s behavior had demanded I do it all myself. He thought he was giving me an offer I couldn’t refuse. In his mind, I would have been so thankful that I disregarded the ill-concealed debt and illegal tax write-offs. He’d banked on the prestige of his family name. But his name wasn’t worth the paper his letterhead was stamped on.

  And he had no one to blame but himself. He was in telecommunications, for shit’s sake. The company should have been thriving. But when the upper levels treated it as their own personal cash cow instead of a business, a lot of things went wrong.

  So I would buy him out and make a pretty penny on the patents they held. I would also be capitalizing on the software rollouts they were primed to deliver. Once my team had some dedicated time, I had no doubt that we would increase the efficacy and longevity of the new firmware and security options.

  **

  A low, steady ache started up between my shoulder blades. I’d skipped the gym this morning and then Carina had settled on her knees for me. I wasn’t accustomed to this kind of inactivity. And while my brain was engaged, that didn’t help my body a whole lot.

  I almost wished I hadn’t run Carina off. I didn’t want to spend the time to find a new bed partner. And as much as it was claimed I was a manwhore by the media, I didn’t pay for sex. Ever.

  The low beep of the intercom sounded. “Mr. Hardin, you’re twelve-thirty is here,” Ben called.

  I tossed down my pen and stretched. “Thanks, Ben. Show them in.”

  Standing up, I moved around a little bit, got the blood moving. Just as I was buttoning the top button of my suit jacket, the door opened. Ben came in, leading a small group of people. I knew they were here for some kind of charity donation, but, for the life of me, I couldn’t remember which one.

  “Mr. Hardin, this is Kammie Urshmen with Humble Beginnings,” Ben said.

  Oh right. One I actually found useful. “Welcome, Ms. Urshmen. Can we get you anything to drink?” I waved them to the wide glass table in the corner of my office.

  Ms. Urshmen was in her mid to late forties, plump, and dressed in what was probably her best outfit. Her frizzy blonde hair was pulled back from a face that reminded me of some of the better foster homes I’d endured.

  The two women and one man who joined her were outfitted in their Sunday best as well. Nondescript, they were a small army of Forget Mes and wallflowers. But they did good work, so I would hear them out.

  Once we were all settled, I waited for Ms. Urshmen to begin her pitch. She fussed a bit with her bag. Her cheeks heated as whatever she was trying to remove fought against her best efforts. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Hardin.”
Her voice was a tremulous alto.

  “Kammie,” I said in an authoritative voice most people responded to.

  She jolted and squeaked just a bit. The sound reminded me of a trapped mouse.

  I didn’t have time for her to hem and haw. “You know your organization better than anyone, I imagine. Just speak to me like you would anyone else. I promise I don’t bite.”

  Blowing out a breath, she dipped her head. A beautiful smile pulled at her mouth, transforming her face. “Thank you, Mr. Hardin.” She settled her hands on the table in front of her. “As your assistant told you, we’re with Humble Beginnings.”

  I nodded and sat back.

  “Humble Beginnings is a non-profit company that helps children who are in, or who have aged out of the foster care system. We help with housing, skill development, resumes, interview practice, and life skills. Since our beginning in 2017, we’ve been able to help more than two hundred young adults.”

  My brows winged up. That was almost unheard of in this day and age. Especially in a city the size of New York and her boroughs.

  Ms. Urshmen smiled, dipped her chin. “Yes. That number is quite impressive. But the number I’m more interested in is 2,389. That is the number of young adults we had to turn away last year alone due to lack of resources. We are here today to ask you to join us in helping reach more of that number, Mr. Hardin.”

  It was a bold ask, and I admired her spirit. “What sort of help were you looking for?”

  Ms. Urshmen’s cheeks went pink again. “Anything you can give us. We’re not proud and we’re quite accustomed to begging.”

  The man at the end of the table smiled, good humor in his eyes. “She’s not kidding. We’ll ask anyone for just about anything.”

  One of the women sitting beside Ms. Urshmen pursed her lips. Her smile was tight and her spine was so straight, I had a feeling steel would be jealous.

  “You don’t agree.”

  Her smile loosened. “Oh, don’t think I’m above begging either, Mr. Hardin. But I have very specific ideas in which you can help.”

  “Channing!” Ms. Urshmen whisper-shouted.

  “Let her speak,” I said.

  Channing lifted her chin. Turning, she brought her bag up and pulled a single sheet of paper out of its depths. “This is a list of our current financial obligations.” She pointed to the top of the sheet.

  Then she pointed to the middle and bottom, where a running list almost disappeared off the end of the page. “These are our wish list items.” She set the page on the desk and slid it down to me. “We would like for you to choose at least five of our wish list items.”

  Liking her upfront style, I picked up the page. The list of obligations was incredibly minor, especially for the amount of work they did and the services they provided. Other than rent, utilities, licensures, and, what I assumed were the basic salaries for the four people sitting in front of me, the list was centered on the actual business of helping others.

  The wish list, as Channing had called it, was sectioned out. Line by line, each amount was explained in a short sentence. At the bottom, she’d listed an unremarkable grand total. It was much less than what I donated to most charities through Hardin Industries.

  I laid the page back down on the table. “Who sits on your board of directors?”

  All four of them blinked.

  Ms. Urshmen cleared her throat. “I’m the executive director. Channing is our finance director. Maggie is in charge of volunteer recruitment, and Richard is our assistant director.”

  “So you’re self-contained and don’t pay yourselves ridiculous salaries for your hard work.” It was almost unheard of these days.

  Channing snorted. “Honestly, I have to force them to claim their paychecks. They keep saying they’ll figure out something for themselves as long as the kids are taken care of.”

  “All of you have secondary jobs, then?”

  Channing raised her hand. “Maggie and I do, but for Kammie and Richard, this is their full-time calling.”

  Looking back down at the page of numbers, I found the two highest salaries. It was less than I paid my entry level managers.

  “If I come aboard as a donor, what does that look like for me from your end?”

  Ms. Urshmen blinked blankly a couple times. “A party, a plaque, and a certificate of donation.”

  “Would I gain a seat on your board? Or have any oversight on how I wanted any potential money I donated be allocated?” I brought a foot up and put it over the opposite knee.

  “No, you would not gain a seat on our board. Those positions are closed. If you donated money, you would be allowed to suggest allocations, but final say would rest with us as a group, since we know our organization’s needs better than you do,” Channing said. Her tone was sharp.

  I nodded. “Good. I don’t have time to sit on another board. I will donate to your charity. I could have used something like that when I was growing up.” One corner of my mouth kicked up. “Granted, I probably wouldn’t have used it, but it would have been nice to have the option.”

  Ms. Urshmen sank back in her chair, waved a hand at her face as tears gathered in her eyes. “You are a kind man, Mr. Hardin.”

  I shook my head. “No. I’m not. But I want to help you help others. I don’t have the resources or contacts set up that you do already. So I’m going to trust you—within reason. I’ll chat with my lawyers. See what kind of contract we can come up with. That way, any money I donate is used for the young adults you serve. I won’t be donating money to fill your own pockets.”

  All four of them nodded.

  “Leave your records with Ben. I’ll have a couple employees from my finance team go over them. This deal is contingent on you being honest in your dealings with me and the services you provide. If I find out that you’re engaging in shady deals or abusing your power, I will come after you.”

  Again, all four of them nodded.

  “I can assure you, Mr. Hardin, we only want what’s best for the babies,” Ms. Urshmen said, tears in her voice.

  “They’re over eighteen, Kam. You can’t keep calling them babies,” Maggie said in a whisper.

  Ms. Urshmen didn’t respond. She just got up and stuck her hand out for me to shake. “Thank you, Mr. Hardin. We will work with you in whatever way is most helpful for the kids.”

  They filed out, gratitude practically pouring off of them in waves. By the time Ben showed them back out, I was exhausted. And it was only one in the afternoon.

  Thankfully, with the amount of money I was planning to donate, I wouldn’t have to worry about charitable giving for the rest of the year. One and done. It was a glorious thing. Good deed done. I could carry on with my life.

  Ben came back in after a moment. “Channing left a copy of their records with me.” He lifted up a thumb drive. “I’ll get it sent to Jamison and Wilkes. Anyone else you want on this?”

  “Gillycuddy. Make sure she draws up the contract,” I said.

  Ben nodded. “Consider it done. Your lunch appointment is here.”

  I sighed. “Send him in.”

  “Yes, sir.” He spun on his heel and left again.

  “Hardin, you bastard. I’ve been trying to reach you for the last six weeks,” the man said as he walked in. A huge smile stretched his mouth. A pearl-snap cream shirt covered his big belly that preceded him into the room. The bolo string tie was a particular kind of touch. It matched well with his ten-gallon Stetson hat and shit-kicker boots.

  “That’s because you’re a needy bitch, MacAlister.” I caught his hand in mine and gave it a shake. I’d forgotten he was on my schedule today. This was almost a happy surprise.

  His laugh boomed through the room. “That’s the gods’ honest truth. It is. It is.” He came in and took a seat that faced my desk. “What’s this shit I’m hearing about Bandforth Global being sucked up by HI?”

  I sat in my chair and tipped it back. Settling my heels on the corner of my desk, I got ready for some real business
.

  Chapter 3

  Zale

  “Ms. Griffin, welcome, welcome,” Randal Comcheck said. His smile was huge and a little frightening, but he was one of my new coworkers, so I just smiled back.

  “Thank you, Mr. Comcheck. I’m excited to be here.” I reached out my hand for a shake.

  His grip was limp, and his shake made wet noodles look robust.

  I quickly pulled my hand back and stood there silently.

  He blinked at me a couple times before he jolted himself into motion. “Right. Come this way. I’ve got you a desk with a view.” He spun on his heel and started charging through the cramped room.

  Winding through the hive of group desks, I marveled again at the space. It was bright, open, and people were actually collaborating and working together. It was so unlike the last place I’d worked where everyone was out for themselves. They’d hoarded their ideas like Gollum with his ring.

  We finally came to a stop at the far end of the building. The south wall was lined with glass walled offices so that everyone could enjoy the view. Randall rocked to a stop near the outer west wall. With an overly dramatic wave, he shifted to allow me through a door with a plaque that held my name. Zale Griffin, Luxury Brand Account Director.

  My heart stalled out in my chest as my lungs tried to seize up. Finally. I was finally here. Years of hard work and I was standing here with my name on the door.

  Walking into my office, I moved directly to the desk and set my bag down. Looking around, I saw shelves lined one wall. A huge workspace had been carved out of the left side of the room and my desk and two chairs facing it captained the right side.

  Randall stood at the door. “Well, how do you like it?”

  I looked back at him. “It’s perfect.”

  He beamed at me. “Wonderful. We were so lucky to get you that Marcella did some rearranging to make sure we did everything we could to keep you here.” He lifted his hand, checked his watch. “And we’re right on time. Leave all that. No one will touch your stuff. But we need to get to the morning meeting.”