After arriving at Flux a little after eight, I’d barely had the chance to boot up my computer before Ian barreled into my office and threw down a sheaf of papers on my desk.
“Well,” I said. “Good morning to you, too.”
“Someone else put in a bid on our parcel of land yesterday,” he snapped. “This third party is trying to edge us out. They’ve triggered a competing bids process with the city, which means the clock is ticking. We no longer have the luxury of waiting to nail down our financing.”
“Who?” I could only think of one person stupid enough to consider that, but even he wasn’t dumb enough to actually do it.
“Who do you think?” Ian said. “AM Developments.”
My jaw clenched so hard I nearly broke a cap. What in the ever-loving fuck did my cousin Adam think he was doing? Some people get to where they are in life because they’ve earned it. People like Adam Matthews, on the other hand, get to where they are because they’re opportunistic assholes that ride everyone else’s coattails to the top. No leadership skills, business acumen, or even grit to back any of it up. Just good old-fashioned freeloading.
And now he was marrying into the Montgomery family. Connections like theirs, combined with the weight of their old-money name, would go a long way in compensating for Adam’s meager business sense and milquetoast personality. I’m not saying it was a marriage of convenience, but it was certainly convenient for him.
I balled and unballed my fists, wishing my hands were around Adam’s throat.
“He’ll never get it,” I said, for my own benefit as much as Ian’s. “They already accepted our conditional offer.”
Ian looked less than convinced. “Exactly. Conditional. We have less than two months to come up with the funds, satisfy those conditions, and convince council to approve our rezoning and variance requests. Even then, if they decide his project is a better fit, we could still lose.”
“It’ll be fine.”
“Will it?” He sighed, leaning back in his chair.
“Your connection at the planning department said it’s as good as ours, right?”
“Right.” But Ian sounded unconvinced.
The worst part was, Adam and I went way back. My mother was his father, Richard’s, younger sister, and growing up, Adam was like another brother to me. We’d attended prep schools in neighboring cities, enjoying the friendly rivalry between our schools and playing each other in varsity sports. Even throughout college, we’d remained close.
After graduating, we struck out on our own and founded a real estate development company with Ian. The three of us invested blood, sweat, tears, and every penny to our names. It just so happened that I was the only one with any appreciable amount of capital to sink in, but we called their portions sweat equity and considered it equal—as an act of good faith.
First and last time I ever did anything in good faith.
Right before Christmas last year, the disloyal bastard decided to divest himself of his ownership interest. The three of us collectively held a total of fifty-one percent, with the remaining forty-nine percent distributed among twenty-odd smaller investors. Allowing Adam to sell his shares on the open market would have meant Ian and I lost controlling interest—and Adam knew it. We were forced to buy him out ourselves on short notice, nearly bankrupting us both in the process. Happy Holidays indeed. The icing on the double-crossing cake? Adam used his proceeds to start a rival company, leveraging his internal knowledge to compete.
Until now, Adam had been little more than a mosquito in my ear. A nuisance, perhaps, but not a real threat. Now that he was fucking with my project, however, he was more like a venomous spider in need of extermination.
“What do we do now?” I began to entertain a variety of revenge scenarios in my head that were wholly illegal, and sadly, never going to happen. Unless, possibly, I hired someone…
“You tell me,” Ian said.
Time to initiate Plan B. “Let me go talk to Richard.”
He braced his hands on the arms of his chair, gaping at me. It mirrored the way I felt. Approaching my Uncle Richard was an absolute last resort. In our family, gifts didn’t come with strings—they came with nooses. And so did favors.
“Richard?” Ian repeated.
“What choice do we have?”
I KNEW ASKING Richard for a business loan was risky. Not only was he family, he’d been my father’s boss ever since I was in high school, when my father ran into trouble with the Securities and Exchange Commission. After a lengthy, stressful investigation, my father admitted to lesser charges and was permitted to continue working in the financial field under specific, limited circumstances subject to the supervision of someone else. That’s where Richard came in. I’d like to say Richard hired him out of the kindness of his heart, but Richard didn’t have a heart. Richard was the reason he had to cop a plea in the first place.
It didn’t help that Richard’s only son, my cousin Adam, was shady as fuck too—I gave Adam the benefit of the doubt that he was different from his father and learned only too late that the apple didn’t fall far from the two-faced tree.
For those reasons, among many others, I promised myself I’d never ask Richard for help. Unfortunately, I was breaking a lot of promises lately. This was my last resort. After the frosty reception I’d received from Thayer at Starbucks yesterday, I couldn’t count on her agreeing. And asking my father wasn’t even an option, because he didn’t have that kind of money anymore.
Besides, it was temporary—or at least, it was supposed to be. That’s why I was proposing an extortionate interest rate. That’s why I was willing to sign my life away. That’s why I’d offered a personal goddamn guarantee, another thing I swore I’d never do. I just needed to stop the bleeding so we could keep moving forward with construction. Then, we’d be able to close the next round of financing, get a large cash injection, and everything would work itself out.
Or everything would go up in flames. But at least there’d be a resolution.
“Okay, son. Let’s skip the pretense, shall we?” My uncle Richard gestured to the black plastic folder in front of him, which contained the report I’d spent the better part of the past twenty-four hours compiling. Painstaking attention to detail, line-by-line proofreading, double- and triple-checking the figures. Lost sleep, lost hair, lost sanity.
All for nothing, as the folio was still closed, and Richard apparently had no plan to read it. I’d sent him an electronic copy too, of course, but Richard was old school and preferred paper.
“The pretense?” I echoed.
“Talk to me about what’s going on. Cut to the chase.” Richard adjusted the sleeves of his light blue French-cuff shirt and placed his elbows on the oversized mahogany desk, fingers clasped. His bespoke grey suit hugged his mid-sized frame, and combined with his commanding presence, the two created the effect of him being much larger than he was.
I squared my shoulders and strapped on my mental battle armor, preparing for psychological warfare. The plush, black leather seat I found myself in felt more like an electric chair.
“In the interest of full disclosure,” I said, “the funds I am seeking are to finance the purchase of a property Adam is also bidding on with his new company. If that is a conflict of interest for you, I understand.”
When Ian, Adam, and I founded Flux four years ago, Richard had declined to invest, claiming start-ups were “too risky” for his portfolio. But when Adam decided to strike out solo last year, suddenly Richard was more than happy to write him a seven-figure check. In other words, I was asking Richard to fund a company that was in direct competition with one he’d already invested a significant amount of money into.
“That won’t influence my discussion.” He waved me off.
“Are you sure?”
Though, it wasn’t a huge surprise. The list of things Richard cared about was short, and money was at the top. If I could convince him this was a lucrative arrangement, it would be a done deal. It didn’t matter if he was family or that he’d seen me running around in diapers at one point. We were both professionals, discussing a potential contractual agreement. Business was business.
And really, helping me was the least he could do after the other things he’d done.
A wry smile played on his lips. “The business world isn’t going to go easy on him, so why should you? Let’s circle back to the details of the offering.”
“Okay,” I said. “I need bridge financing. Five million.”
He sighed, combing a hand through his slicked-back, artificially darkened hair. “Tell me the truth: is your company in trouble financially?”
“No,” I insisted. Technically, we weren’t—if we got this money. “I just need short term funding until we close this next round of financing. We’re ninety percent of the way there.”
Richard reached for the folio and flipped it open with a disinterested expression. He slipped on his wire-rimmed reading glasses, peering down at the document. “You’re asking for a term of six months,” he observed, running a finger down the front page of figures. “My bridge financing arrangements are for a period of ninety days or less. I’m concerned that you won’t be able to get the capital to repay before our usual ninety days. Frankly, it’s a red flag.”
I shifted in my seat, resisting the urge to flinch. He looked at me like I was still seven years old. Like he was reprimanding me during t-ball, back when he used to coach the team I played on with Adam. I use the word coach lightly, because it was more like yelling at us for missing the ball or not running fast enough.
Or like the time when I was fifteen years old, and Adam and I took his beloved silver Porsche out for a joyride. Adam scrubbed the curb and blew a tire, and Richard had blown a gasket in response.
“I’m trying to allow for some cushion. Of course, it’s my intention to pay you back as soon as possible.” I just didn’t know when that would be.
Richard tsked, nodding. The dim lighting that he favored for his office cast shadows on his jawline, which was sharp enough to cut stone. He was hawkish—and he looked it.
“You understand my position.”
“I do,” I said. “That’s why I’m here. I want to work something out that is favorable for all parties.”
He fell silent, studying the proposed terms sheet on the front page. “I would need to take some security,” he said, closing the plastic folder without bothering to read the rest. “Half of your interest in the company.”
“Pardon?” I was certain I’d misheard. No one would ask for that. It wasn’t reasonable.
“You have what, 25.5% now? So let’s round that up to 13%.”
How did he know that off the top of his head? This is why he didn’t bother to read the report. He’d already done a deep dive on our financials. I should have known.
“To be returned upon repayment of the loan,” he added. “If you repay it.”
My jaw ticked. Of course, I’d repay it. What did he think I was, a thief? An idiot? The company was doing great on paper. We were just having some issues getting through a growth spurt. No thanks to his golden son, Adam.
Of course, he provided Adam with a steady stream of cash whenever he needed it, no strings attached. While I couldn’t expect my uncle to treat me like his son, was it too much to ask for him not to destroy me like a ruthless corporate raider?
I bit back a retort and swallowed a mouthful of sand. “I’m open to it.” The words were bitter, hard to get out.
“And I would need a seat on the board—permanently.”
I blinked at him, dumbfounded. While many people would kill to have access to his expertise and business acumen, I preferred to dodge his tendency to steamroll everyone else in the room. Having him on the board in any capacity would basically be akin to making him Chairperson. And I was Chair.
I cleared my throat and made an effort to keep my voice even. “I’m not—”
“We also need to talk about crafting some conditions into your employment contracts as well as the contracts for the board,” he said.
“Conditions?” Speaking of steamrolling, I was flat as a goddamn pancake. Worse, I didn’t even know how to stop this death spiral. But I wasn’t in a place to push back, let alone make demands. If we didn’t get some funding, Flux would go down in flames and cremate me along with it.
Richard nodded. “Stipulations regarding acceptable and expected behavior. You know, to avoid issues in the future. I can’t be associated with a corporation of ill repute.” He rifled through his desk drawer, emerging with an ivory business card, sliding it across the desk to me. “David McCarthy at Blake Miller McCarthy LLP. He specializes in employment law matters and he does stellar contract work.”
Suddenly, my tie became a noose around my neck. Beads of sweat broke out around my hair line, and I resisted the urge to wipe them away. Fidgeting or looking nervous would only add fuel to this bonfire.
“What kind of stipulations did you have in mind? And to what end?” My mouth was desert dry. I picked up the glass of water sitting on the marble side table next to me, gulping back half in two swallows.
“Anything that would cause embarrassment or disreputability for either company.”
Anything? I didn’t like the sound of that, especially not after Strippergate last year. My uncle’s lawyers would craft something they could drive a bus through, and then they’d throw me right under it. They’d probably turn around and flip my shares to Adam for good measure. I stared at the card, mind working overtime. The word ‘disreputability’ alone was a clear red flag. I was many things, but a pillar of society wasn’t one of them. There had to be an alternate solution. Had to be.
“Bennett?” His voice brought me crashing back down to reality. “What do you think of the terms I’ve outlined?”
I thought they were exploitative and unreasonable, especially from my own uncle, but even I wasn’t stupid enough to say that out loud. Not that I should have expected anything else from Richard William Matthews. His specialties included leveraging other people’s vulnerabilities to strong-arm them, squeezing every last dime out of business deals, and playing puppeteer with others to further his interests.
I crossed an ankle over my knee, trying to pretend like I wasn’t inwardly losing my shit. “To be clear, I wasn’t looking to divest myself of any equity.”
Richard looked at me skeptically. “I realize that. But you’re over-leveraged. At this point, I have serious doubts you’ll be able to pay the money back, and I have to protect myself in case things go sideways. Or when they go sideways.”
In other words, he’d rather give me the money and consider it a write-off—with multiple, handcuffing conditions that benefited him—than extend a legitimate business loan to me. My uncle had already decided I was going under, and he was more than happy to strap cement boots on my feet to help speed up the process.
“Not everyone is cut out to run a company,” he added.
Like father, like son, but he didn’t need to say that part out loud.
“No.” I drew in a breath, pushing away from the mahogany leather chair to stand. “I’m sorry, but I can’t agree to those terms.”
“I don’t think you’re in a position to refuse.”
My jaw tensed. “I came to you for help, not to get screwed. I already have enough people willing to fuck me.”
“Watch your mouth.” He glared at me, straightening his forest green silk tie. “Let’s not pretend this is a level playing field. If you want my help, you play by my rules.”
“That’s funny,” I said. “Rules never meant anything to you before.”
“Son,” he warned, tone dripping with venom.
“I could tell my mother the truth, you know.”
For nearly ten years, I had been sitting on the acrid knowledge that Richard screwed over my father. Richard masterminded their entire insider trading scheme, neatly designed to make the already rich even richer. It carried on for two years until the feds swooped in. Then Richard let my father fall on the knife for him, and we lost everything. The only reason I hadn’t exposed Richard was my mother.
“Bennett.” His demeanor turned eerily calm. He tilted his head, pity across his face and malice in his eyes. “You’d never do that to her.”
He was right. It would be the equivalent of blowing up her world for a second time. I couldn’t bring myself to be the one to do that, even if he did deserve it.
“Forget it.” I stood up, turned on my heel, and stalked out of his office, slamming the solid wood door behind me. It echoed down the corridor, causing everyone in the vicinity to turn and watch my hasty departure.
Back to Plan A, regardless of what it took to get Thayer to agree.
