Chapter 41: Cost of Doing Business

"You know who this is?" I demanded, jabbing my finger at the woman I'd last seen holding me prisoner.

"Yes. This is Miss Amber Bell. She's a solicitor representing Brantwood Holdings." Chandler said, looking confused. Everyone in the room looked confused, and despite the outrage I felt, embarrassment blossomed like the first few kernels of popcorn. Doubt started to seep through the cracks in my mind.

Turning my attention rallied my confidence, however. She was a dead ringer for the woman standing with the mercenaries while Natashya had a gun to her head. "This woman was in Vegas last weekend! She was one of the ones holding me hostage!"

"I... don't understand," Amber said, and my heart skipped several beats. The vocal fry... the cadence of her voice... this was the woman who lied about holding Emily and threatened Natashya! She was the one who asked me about the flash drive! She gave me a fucking hand job while I was tied to a chair!

"Where were you last weekend?" I spat.

"I was in Alexandria, Virginia," Amber said, looking puzzled. Her brow furrowed, causing her glasses to slip down the bridge of her nose. "I was meeting with a client."

That doubt resurfaced thanks to how confident she sounded in the answer and how genuinely confused she looked. What the fuck was I supposed to say to that? Shouldn't I call her a liar? Then what? It was my word against hers. Plus, it dawned on me that I probably seemed a little unhinged, and the last thing I wanted to do was start publicly accusing a stranger of lying and looking even crazier.

More than a few seconds passed without either of us saying a word, and no one else chimed in. I glanced behind me to see Helen, Erin, and Chloe standing just inside the door. I was hoping Chloe would recognize her--he'd been there after all. Unfortunately, I couldn't find a hint of recognition on her freckled face. I guess that shouldn't have been surprising. My bodyguard had been too busy dodging bullets to notice some accounting nerd, and by the time the shooting was over, Amber had disappeared through another door.

Pet usual, Helen's face rivaled those found at the World Poker Tour, while Erin looked like a deer caught in headlights. The look on her face said, "Abort! Abort!"

Someone coughed awkwardly in the silence.

"Marcus," Chandler said. "Might I have a word?"

I could feel the eyes of every person in the boardroom burning holes in me. "Yeah," I said, following him out of the boardroom and down the hall with Chloe, Erin, and John on my heels.

About ten feet down was another, smaller, unoccupied meeting room. Grayson led me and the ladies through the doorway while John stayed outside so no one would disturb us. As Erin shut the door, Chandler whipped around and steepled his fingers in front of him, doing a phenomenal job of controlling his temper. I'd never seen him this close to exploding.

"Meaning no disrespect, Marcus, but couldn't you have handled that with a bit more tact?"

"Tact?" I asked. "Tact!? That woman is responsible for killing people at that party! Ray died because of her! She had me beaten, she interrogated me... some guy peed on me, and you want me to pretend that we're cool?"

"Sir," Chloe said, her tone cool and professional, "Are you sure she's the one?"

I wanted to say I was one hundred percent sure, but I was never really one to fully trust myself, and this was no exception. Sure... she was the spitting image of the woman I saw that night, but there was a lot of gunfire, and it wasn't like I got a long look at her. Her voice solidified it, but I don't know if I would have picked up on it without the visual component. No... as convinced as I was that she was the woman from Vegas, I couldn't be one hundred percent sure.

"I'm one hundred percent sure," I said to Chloe.

I must have been pretty convincing because Chloe didn't hesitate. Pulling out her phone, she began scrolling through her contacts as she said, "Alright." She turned and headed for the door.

"Where are you going?" I asked.

With her phone to her ear, she turned to look at me and said, "To find proof." Then she was gone.

"How do you want to proceed?" Chandler asked.

That was a good question. "What are my options? Can we postpone the meeting?"

Chandler shook his head emphatically as he slashed the air with his hands. "Out of the question. Perhaps if you had fallen ill or something, but after that display, if we didn't follow through today, there would likely be a call for a vote of no confidence, and since I'm the CEO they would be voting on, I wouldn't get to cast my votes."

"Couldn't they do that anyway?" I asked, suddenly afraid I'd really fucked up.

"They bloody well might," he said. "A no-confidence vote could serve as a last-ditch attempt, but it can be challenged in court, and if there's not a solid justification for it, the no-confidence could be overturned. However, the majority owner of the company going crazy just before voting his preferred candidate might be solid justification."

The poor man looked anxious enough to tear his hair out in large clumps. "How about you give me a few minutes to unruffle any feathers, and then you rejoin us in, say... ten minutes?"

Deferring to his expertise, I nodded, "If you think that's best."

Relief seeped into his features, and he visibly relaxed, his shoulders sagging as he exhaled. I hadn't realized how tense he looked.

"Thank you, Marcus," he said, giving me a tight smile as he laid a hand on my shoulder. "Chin up. If there's one thing I'm good at, it's getting out of a sticky wicket.

The smile I returned was just as brittle as his. Chandler headed for the door, then paused with his hand on the knob and looked back at me. "You really think she's guilty?"

I nodded. "Yes. She's a psychopath."

"Well," Chandler said. "It's not the first time I've dealt with psychopaths in boardrooms. The business environment seems to attract them." His smile became a lot more genuine... more Chandler. "Not to worry. Not much she can do besides take away your company and all." With that, he slipped out the door and closed it behind him.

"Fuck, Marcus," Erin breathed.

"I know," I said, ashamed of how I'd reacted. After the exchange with Chandler and the building doubt whispering in the back of my mind, I hated myself for not being the cool guy who could walk into a room, look the villain in the eye, and pretend I wasn't shaken. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to fly off the handle like that. I just saw her face and..." I didn't have the words to finish the sentence, so I mimed an explosion.

"No," Erin said, touching my arm, her dark eyes shining and her eyebrows canted in worry. "I mean... I'm sorry. This meeting was nerve-wracking enough. Then you had to go and run into her?"

"Oh," I said, relieved that she wasn't going to berate me. "Thanks."

She slid against my side, wrapping her slender arms around my waist to squeeze me tight. Her cheek was pressed against my chest as she continued to look up at me with her big doe eyes. "What do you want to do?"

I thought about it for several moments. Now that I'd taken a few minutes to process it, I felt like I'd actually be able to sit in the same room with that woman... at least long enough to cast a vote. If Amber was the one who'd interrogated me--quit saying if, Marcus... it was definitely her--it wasn't like she could do anything in the middle of a business meeting. Besides being too public of a setting, John was with me. Chloe was already doing everything she could to find proof, and I was confident enough in her skills that we'd have some way to press charges against her by the time we'd made Chandler CEO. "I'm gonna attend a business meeting."

"You sure?" Erin asked.

"It doesn't sound like I have a choice," I said. "You heard Chandler."

"Okay," Erin said. She slid one hand behind my head and pulled me down so that she could press her lips to mine for a heated kiss that caused my blood to rush. Her tongue slid past my mouth and into mine, and I heard a faint whimper as we made out in the small meeting room inside VistaVision. I felt her other hand drop from my waist to my ass, and she tried to grab as much of one cheek as her dainty hand would allow. We spent the next few moments making out, and I couldn't help but wonder what I'd deserved to have such an empathetic, beautiful, loyal angel by my side--someone so capable in business but a hellcat in the bedroom.

We parted, but she kept our faces close as she looked up at me with her large, expressive eyes and said, "I'm fucking the shit out of you tonight."

Less than ten minutes later, we cleaned up the mess we'd made of Erin's makeup and returned to the board room; everyone still had their eyes on me. Helen was staring at me with her cold, blue, unreadable gaze, Hiro was looking at me like a disappointed father, and Carla was doing her best to hide an amused smile. That bothered me more than anything else. Why the fuck was she even here? Did Hiro really need his emotional support Barbie to attend a simple board meeting?

A few new faces had arrived in my absence. I recognized a few of them as executive officers of the company--I recognized Yancy McLane, the Chief Financial Officer, and Thandi Nkosi, VistaVision's Information Officer. There was also a man who looked in his early thirties with advanced male pattern baldness. His suit looked like it cost as much as my old car, and his watch could have covered a few months' rent in my old apartment. He was Michael Ross, my siblings' legal representation.

The other person was a woman about my sister's height but as slender as Erin. The only word I could think of to describe her was 'graceful.' She had a heart-shaped face, high cheekbones, a slender nose, and lips that were just a touch on the thin side. Her white blonde hair was fine as silk, parted down the middle, and was loosely kept out of her face with a couple of simple hair pins; it fell down to the middle of her back. Her bangs were swooped to the side, framing a pair of striking blue-green eyes. She wore a tight-fitting cream blouse that buttoned all the way up to the hollow of her throat and a pair of dress pants. Her whole outfit was conservative compared to what I was used to seeing my assistant in, but it hugged her perfectly, showing off the gentle curves of her willowy form.

"Ah, good timing, Marcus," Chandler said, pulling my attention away from the beauty sitting to his left. "I was just telling the board about the dreadful experience you had last week and that I was sure they could understand the toll such an encounter would take on any of us. Better men would not have recovered so quickly."

"With that in mind," he continued, "Miss Bell's striking resemblance to someone else startled you. I've assured everyone you're fine and offered my sincerest apologies. We're ready to press on if you are."

I dared to glance at Amber, but, unlike everyone else, her attention was on the meeting's agenda as she furiously wrote in the margins. She barely seemed aware of what was happening around her.

The moment I opened my mouth to tell Chandler I was fine, she spoke up. "Yes. An unfortunate coincidence. I apologize if my likeness to this person upset you." She halted her pen mid-stroke, looked up at me, and said, "I can assure you. No offense was taken. In fact, I would even venture to say it was..." Her eyes went glassy, and she suddenly looked as if she was looking through me while trying to find the right words to finish her sentence. "Very effective in helping me maintain a state of alertness."

"I'm... glad I could help," I said. Erin and I glanced at each other, and I could tell she was thinking the same thing--this woman seemed off somehow... like she had some sort of social disorder. However, with that business out of the way, I took my seat on Chandler's right. Erin took the empty spot between Hiro and me.

"Glad all the drama's worked out," a voice said from a speakerphone. Wayne Prudem, my other ally, hadn't been able to make it in person, but he was here in spirit. "Now, if everyone's around the campfire, can we start singing Kumbaya?"

Chandler ensured everyone was ready and then started. "As you can see, I've provided a package for each of you. In it, you'll find detailed records of the operations as well as the financial..."

Over the next fifteen minutes, Chandler regaled us with a tale of corporate success and how the last six quarters had taken the company to new heights of financial gains and development. Despite having gone over the meeting several times with Chandler, I was pleasantly surprised by his performance and the presentation's content. He was thorough and knowledgeable, and by the time he finished, I was convinced all over again that he was the man for the job.

At his conclusion, a handful of people clapped--Karl Yunger, Carla Tanaka, and the woman with the white blonde hair among them. "Well, that was damn convincing. I know where I'm casting my vote," Wayne groused.

Kelly stood up and looked around the room at everyone, taking a longer moment to stare at me, then Chandler. Then she said, "That's a nice narrative you put together, but I'm here to set the record straight." She pointed a small remote at the wall behind Chandler, and a white backdrop slowly descended, accompanied by a faint hum.

"It's true, this company has done relatively well in recent years, but growth has slowed considerably compared to what it did five years ago." A PowerPoint presentation appeared on the backdrop, and she began comparing monthly revenue, key performance indicators, and a host of other metrics on a higher level than Chandler. She talked about the company's performance during her time at the company, pointing out that growth had slowed significantly since her departure.

It lasted roughly ten minutes before she concluded her speech, saying, "What I'm suggesting is that this company has missed me. Milestones have been kicked down the road for the past several years, and overall profit has fallen nearly twenty percent in the last six months. We saw record growth while I served as Vice President of Development. Imagine what I could do at the helm. Thank you."

The same few that had clapped for Chandler did the same for Kelly, with the addition of the man with the swarthy complexion and bold nose. I made it a point to not join in. I had to admit that Chandler did a great job communicating the company's recent successes and plans for the future. However, Kelly did at least as good of a job painting a picture that muted the brightness of Chandler's optimism. She spoke with a level of expertise and authority that was hard to ignore and attacked Chandler's more rosy outlook with facts, logic, and scathing conclusions.

"Alright," Chandler said, looking a little pale around the eyes. "We'll open up the floor for questions and discussion."

The next half hour was spent discussing numbers and figures. Kelly immediately went on the offensive, pointing out several key indicators that had flagged significantly in the past year. The dark-skinned man jumped on the attack, pointing out that his shares had decreased in value by two percent over the last quarter. All the while, Chandler did a terrific job of parrying all the attacks thrown at him.

"Oh, come now!" the current CEO said as things were beginning to get a little heated. "Colin Gerrard's death must be considered! You can't simply ignore performance when there's instability at the top... especially when the bloody founder of the company dies!"

"That's hardly an excuse," another of the men said, and I recognized him--Gus Hathaway. He owned three percent of the company and seemed very analytical but also cutthroat. "A press release wasn't issued until days after his passing. That huge oversight cost the shareholders collective millions, and that decision was yours."

"When the wealthiest man in New York dies, not only does it affect his own companies but the local economy. Caution had to be applied... especially when there were anomalies in his posthumous demands!"

Me. Chandler was talking about me and the fact that I'd inherited everything. I wasn't the only one who knew it, either. As I glanced around, several shareholders were throwing glances my way.

"It wasn't like Gerrard wasn't showing signs of failing health," Kelly said. "You lacked the foresight to put a strategy in place that would deal with his death, and it shows how unqualified you are for this position!"

"Kelly Maddox, did you ever meet Collin Gerrard? You know how much of a stubborn old codger he could be! Do you think I made no attempts to install safeguards? I assure you, you wouldn't have done any better! Do you know why I'm so convinced? Because you're the one he fired, whereas I stayed in his service for years after you were terminated!"

Maddox's face flushed, and her full lips compressed into a thin line. "You know that's not on me! Logan Gerrard--"

Grayson cut her off. "Logan Gerrard had nothing to do with Collin growing tired of having you in his bed, which is the reason--"

"Okaaaayyy!" The woman with the white blonde hair slowly stood up as she placed her hands on the table and pressed her fingers into the surface. "I appreciate this helpful dialog, but I think we should all take a few minutes to cool off."

Her voice was soft and affected by a gentle Scandinavian accent. She wasn't loud, and her tone wasn't harsh, but there was something about how she spoke that gave off a subtle air of authority... as if she were the only adult in a room full of children, and she was telling them it was nap time.

Chandler's face--which had grown pale--reddened, and I'd spent enough time with him to be aware of his embarrassment over letting Kelly get to him enough that he stooped to mud-slinging.

"You're right, Astrid," he said, his tone clipped. "I suggest we take a twenty-minute recess to let cooler heads reign. There's coffee available and more substantial food in the room just down the hall."

With that, the meeting broke up, and Carla leaned forward, grabbed Erin's and my attention, and whispered, "What did I tell you? These meetings are always exciting! So much tea!"

She put a hand next to her mouth so that people across the table couldn't see, subtly pointed to Kelly, and mouthed, "That slut!"

I thought that was rich coming from the woman who had married a seventy-year-old man for his money while trying to seduce me in the bathroom of a coffee shop, but I simply nodded and smiled. Then I followed Erin into the hall and down to the break room, where a magnificent spread of food was laid out for everyone attending the meeting. Unlike in the board room, where cold cocktail shrimp and pinwheels sat on a table lining one wall, this room had breakfast tacos, donuts, fried chicken, waffles, and more.

The food wasn't the only thing waiting there. Chloe stood next to the door, pulled me aside, and walked down the hall several feet until she was satisfied with the relative privacy.

"What did you find?" I asked.

"It's not good," she replied.

"What does that mean?"

"Her story checks out," she said.

"What does that mean?" I repeated.

"It means Amber Bell stayed in the Radisson in Alexandria, Virginia, on Friday and Saturday night, according to the hotel and credit card company."

"You confirmed all that in less than an hour?" I asked, surprised.

"Psalter isn't cheap," Chloe said.

"Worth it, though," I said.

"Are you sure--"

"It's her!" I hissed. "I swear to fucking god, every time I look at her, I'm convinced all over again!"

"Okay," Chloe huffed, looking past me to make sure we were still alone. "All the findings show that she spent money in Virginia. It doesn't mean she was actually there. I've already got Henry on it. He's trying to get more solid evidence one way or the other."