Total pages in book: 134
Estimated words: 129676 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 648(@200wpm)___ 519(@250wpm)___ 432(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 129676 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 648(@200wpm)___ 519(@250wpm)___ 432(@300wpm)
I was surprised he didn’t know. He had hired me fresh out of college. On a whim, in fact. I’d always found it odd, how Tate swooped in out of nowhere as soon as I gained my degree at a relatively unknown college in Brooklyn and offered me a job I hadn’t even applied to.
“Environmental economics and policies.”
“What would you have done had I not offered you employment?”
“An investment adviser. Perhaps hedge fund.” I hitched up a shoulder. “Those were the few positions I’d applied for after college.”
He stared at me, and I knew he was planning in that twisted mind of his. Something dark and depraved, a way to punish me for simply existing in his sphere.
“I didn’t know you were analytical, Miss Bennett. Although I did have my suspicion. You are too bright to have an intuitive personality.” He paused. “What’s an intuition anyway? Simply a draw of luck. So common. So…random.” He knocked back the rest of his whiskey with a snarl.
Strange, strange man.
“My theory is sociologists divide us into analytical and intuitive personalities because it is politically incorrect to call the intuitive dumbasses. What do you think?”
I think you should seek urgent help.
“As much as I’d love to discuss this fascinating matter with you tonight.” I licked my lips, trying to conceal my anxiety. “There is something I’ve been trying to talk to you about.”
“Oh, right. Go ahead.” He leaned lavishly in his recliner, crossing his long legs. He wore a chunky gold ring on his little finger. “Your five minutes start now.”
Wanker.
Nonetheless, the words rushed out of my mouth at the speed of light. I couldn’t waste one second.
“As you know, my mother is suffering from dementia. She is in the middle to late stages and doing quite poorly by all medical metrics. She is confused, forgetful, and suspicious. One of the side effects is poor nutrition. She lost thirty-five pounds in four years, and she was lean to begin with.” I only mentioned it because I needed him to understand my urgency. “She is the only remaining living member of my immediate family. We were a very tight-knit family. Really, they were my entire world. So now she is my world—”
The words tumbled out of my mouth clumsily. It wasn’t often I lost my footing, but speaking about Mum did that to me. I twisted my fingers in my lap.
“And this week, well, I met with her doctor. And he mentioned that there is this trial…I mean, experimental treatment here in the States. In New York, in fact, for dementia patients. It’s an in-patient, all-encompassing treatment for people who are in the middle stage of the disease. There’s a lot of red tape and fine print, of course, but the doctor mentioned that the initial results of people who enrolled in the program twelve weeks ago are groundbreaking. They were able to reverse some of the symptoms back to the early, mild stages and gain these people years more to live rather comfortably,” I said breathlessly, getting animated despite myself.
If there was one thing Tate loathed, it was melodramatic people.
Tate’s apathetic gaze told me he was losing both his patience and interest.
He checked his watch again. “Can you cut to the chase? My trainer’s coming at five thirty, and I’d like to have my bulletproof coffee beforehand.”
Curling my fingers into fists to prevent myself from slapping him, I answered slowly, “I am tired of living away from Mum, of hopping between continents to see her. I would love to secure her a place in this program.”
Tate elevated an eyebrow. “Is anyone stopping you?”
He was going to make me spell it out for him. Bastard.
“I need someone with connections. Someone who’d be able to pull some strings and get her into the program.”
“I assume I am that lucky someone.” He knotted his fingers together, tapping his indexes over his mouth.
My gaze dropped to my feet.
“I haven’t pegged you as a rule breaker,” he mused, a hint of a smile hiding behind his perpetual snarl. “First time?”
“Yes,” I lied. I’ve done so much worse. You have no idea. “There isn’t much I wouldn’t do for the little that is left of my family.”
“And what, pray tell, am I going to get in return for ‘pulling some strings’?” He used his long fingers to mimic quotation marks.
I gulped.
I knew we’d reach the bargaining portion of the conversation. And though I hadn’t many haggling chips, I did come up with a few ideas.
“I thought you might do this from the goodness of your heart?”
“I possess no such thing, and you know it.” He waved me off. “Next?”
“Helping me get Mum into the program is to your financial benefit. It would ensure I’d be on top of my game. I wouldn’t have to be preoccupied all the time. Wouldn’t have to go to London so frequently. That’s at least once a month. It would be a good investment for you.”