Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 123579 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 618(@200wpm)___ 494(@250wpm)___ 412(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 123579 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 618(@200wpm)___ 494(@250wpm)___ 412(@300wpm)
If I wasn’t so sure this woman likes me, I’d put on a Kevlar vest before every conversation.
“So what’re you drinking?” I ask.
She grins, taking a sip from her martini glass.
“Perfect Ten.”
“Why am I not surprised?” I signal the bartender. “Scotch, please. So where’s your quarterback?”
“On his way.” She peers over the rim of her glass as she sips. “Don’t worry. You won’t have to keep me company for long.”
“Oh, I don’t mind.” I step close enough for her scent to wrap around me. “But then you know that, don’t you?”
Our glances tangle for a few seconds before she lowers her lashes.
“I know what?” she asks.
“That I like you.”
“Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why do you like me?”
I laugh a little, enjoying this perplexing woman more than I have anything in a long time.
“I don’t know yet, to be honest.”
There’s no time to name the emotion that flits across her face because she hides it so quickly.
Before I can make any more progress with Sofie, a large hand falls on my shoulder. I’m almost shocked to see Martin Bennett standing there, since he’s been so scarce during our negotiations. I know he suffered a heart attack a while back and has been less involved in the company, but he hasn’t been in any of our meetings since we arrived in New York.
“Bishop, good to see you.” He drops a quick kiss on Sofie’s hair. “I didn’t know you’d be here, Sof. Haven’t seen you in so long.”
“Too long, Uncle Martin.” Sofie leans into Martin’s shoulder for a second before glancing at me and pulling back.
“How have negotiations been going?” Martin asks me, looking so much like Walsh I have to remind myself I haven’t sat across the negotiation table from this man.
“They’re going.” I keep my reservations out of my voice. “We’ve got a ways to go and lots of options to explore.”
“You’re in good hands with Walsh.” He flicks a quick glance Sofie’s way. “And Ernest, too, of course.”
“Where’s Walsh tonight?” Sofie asks.
“The girls are sick, and he wanted to relieve Kerris.” Martin offers a rueful smile. “Wish I’d done more of that when I was his age. Too busy building empires.”
My father spent a lot of time with me growing up. I’m as close to him as I am to my mother. He didn’t have an empire to pass along to me like Martin has for Walsh, but I wouldn’t have achieved anything I have had my father not invested as much in me as he did. He never missed a game. Made sure I was prepared for every test. Stayed close, but gave me space when I entered my rebellious stage as a teenager. I know Walsh and Martin never had that, and right now Martin looks like he’d trade all he’s amassed to have what I shared with my pop.
“Walsh seems to have turned out all right in the end,” I tell Martin.
Martin gives me a long, considering look before nodding and giving another rueful smile.
“You know, you remind me a lot of Walsh.” Martin takes the club soda Sofie secured for him at some point. “Thank you, Sofie.”
“I remind you of Walsh?” I lean against the bar. “How so?”
“He’s always looking for ways to mesh business and philanthropy. Got that from my wife.” Martin’s face pinches for a moment. “From his mother, that is, Kristeene.”
I’ve heard Martin took Kristeene Bennett’s death hard, even though they had been divorced for years. His face betrays all the things he’s been publicly reticent about: that he loved his ex-wife very much. That he still misses her. That he probably always will.
“I’m hearing great things about Bennett Charities,” I say into the heavy silence that follows his comment.
My words seem to flip a switch inside the older man, his face becoming animated as he talks about the work he’s overseeing with the relatively new charitable arm of the company he founded.
“I’m enjoying it a helluva lot more than I thought I would.” Martin grins at Sofie and me. “They can barely get me in the office for anything else lately.”
He says it jokingly, but if I had to call it, I’d say this legend in the corporate raiders hall of fame just isn’t as interested in it anymore. I’m not foolish enough to think, when he has to be, that he’s any less ruthless than when he founded Bennett Enterprises, though. Sofie grew up with men like Martin and her father in this cutthroat world of high stakes and few qualms. So different from the way I was raised. My father, a postal worker, and my mother, an elementary school teacher, instilled in all seven of us kids things like integrity, compassion, and humility. I’m almost afraid to find out what Ernest and Billi Baston instilled in Sofie, in case it all took.
“I better get going.” Martin squeezes Sofie’s hand. “Keep up the good work with the Walsh Foundation, too, Sofie. They’re lucky to have you.”