Billionaires Dollar Series

“Anything to look like we know how to run a business.” I reach for the closed sign and flip it in the window. It’s just the two of us, and no one to watch the shop while we’re out. Sadly, there’s never been enough money to hire anyone else. Even sadder is my sneaky suspicion that we won’t miss a single customer for the two hours or so we’ll be gone. Business hasn’t exactly been booming lately.

Karli reaches for the books behind the register. I know what they contain-all our financial information, our numbers, our nonexistent profit margin. She shoves it into her bag and shoots me a smile that’s braver than I feel.

“Well, then. We’re heading into the belly of the whale, aren’t we?”

“We sure are,” I say. “But we’re a force to be reckoned with, too. I promised I would be civil-but I’ll fight, Karli.”

Her smile goes from brave to determined. “Why do you think I asked you to join?”

We drive in silence through Seattle, two-story buildings disappearing behind us in favor of brutal skyscrapers and harsh angles. Men in suits on the streets, women in heels, quaint coffee shops replaced by the big chains. Karli pulls into a parking garage close to Porter Development, at least according to the GPS on my phone, but we still have to hurry the two-block walk.

Porter Development is located inside a massive building-tall, imposing, all glass. Someone pushes past us with an irritated sigh as we stand mid-sidewalk and stare.

“Well,” Karli says faintly, “it’s not so much a whale as a…”

“A giant monument to corporate greed?”

“Yes. That.”

I thread my arm under hers and we head into the lobby. “We can do this. You’re a business owner, Karli. And small business owners are the backbone of the American economy.”

“Right.”

“They can’t intimidate us. We spend all our days surrounded by books! We’re infinitely better then whatever lawyer or developer we’re meeting with.”

“Bryan Hoffman,” she says. “And they spend their days surrounded by stacks of money. But you’re right.”

“Yes. Let’s kick some ass.”

“Civilly,” she says with a smile.

“Of course. It’ll be the politest of ass-kickings.”

We sign in with the lobbyist, and not five minutes later we’re escorted through security gates and a badge-required elevator.

Karli and I stand side-by-side as the elevator shoots up towards its fateful destination. An awful tune starts to play, and I make a show of shaking my head at Karli in disapproval behind the back of our escort. The elevator music is terrible.

She has to bite her lip to stop from chuckling. For a moment, at least, I’ve been silly enough to take her mind off our impending doom.

We’re shown into an all-white meeting room. Light floods through the floor-to-ceiling windows, a view of the opposite skyscraper too close for comfort.

“Mr. Hoffman will be with you soon,” the chirpy assistant tells us. “Would you like something to drink? A cup of tea or coffee?”

“Some water, please.”

“Coming right up!”

He closes the glass door behind him and Karli and I are left in tense, expectant silence. “Well,” she says. “At least they gave us a good tour of the building. Do you think the new hotel will look like this?”

I tap my pen against the notebook in agitation. “I hope not. Our area doesn’t need this kind of showboating.”

Voices sound in the corridor, steps approaching.

“Remember,” she murmurs. “Be civil.”All content is property © NôvelDrama.Org.

I nod. That’s the third reminder, and I don’t know if I should be offended that she thinks I can’t control myself or grateful that she knows I care so deeply about the bookshop.

The door opens and a middle-aged man steps through, a small mustache on his upper lip. “Hello, ladies. I hope we didn’t keep you waiting too long. I’m Bryan.” Behind him steps a woman in heels, a notepad clutched at her side. “This is Tyra, our in-house lawyer.”

“A pleasure,” she says, shaking both of our hands.

A man appears in the doorway behind her and the world drops out from beneath my feet. Tall. Brown hair. Familiar eyes, now fixed on me, relentless and unyielding.

“Cole Porter, owner and CEO of Porter Development,” Bryan says. “Now we’re a full house.”

My mouth is open. I don’t know how to close it-or what to say. For the second time in a week, I’ve lost my tongue.

Cole reaches out and shakes Karli’s hand. “Thank you for taking the time to meet with me, Mrs. Stiller.”

“Thank you for inviting us,” Karli says, pleasant and professional. Of course, the man in front of her is a stranger. “I’ll admit that I’m more than a little curious as to the reason behind this meeting.”

“Fully understandable. And this is your co-worker?” He turns to me, extending a large hand. I stare from it to him before reaching out to shake it in a daze. His skin is warm and dry and my traitorous body responds by shivering. “Cole.”

“Skye,” I say faintly. “I work with Karli in the bookstore.”

“Of course.” Amusement is faint in his eyes, but it’s there. “Glad you could join us today.”

Asshole.

The word rings clear as a bell in my head. Rich, arrogant, prick of a man. He’d known, when he was in the bookstore. He’d known who I was, what the place was, that he was going to tear it down.

And he’d kept all of that to himself.

“Well, shall we?” Bryan’s voice is brisk, all business, a world away from the ire rising up through me. “As I’m sure we’re all aware, Between the Pages will be closing on the fourteenth, two months from now. That’s exactly two weeks before our building project goes into development. Now, the legal aspect is all settled. The land has been purchased and the city has approved the plans.”

Something clenches inside me to hear the bookstore’s fate discussed so cavalierly. A business deal like any other, just dollars and cents, but it isn’t, because it’s my life it concerns.

I glare at Cole across the table. It’s a professional glare-one might even call it civil-but I know he understands what I’m trying to say. It’s an accusation.

He’d known.

And worse than that is the knowledge that I’d slept with my worst enemy. The magical night in his hotel room, the one that occupied an almost mythical status in my mind, is now tainted.

Karli clears her throat. “I know all this already, Mr. Hoffman,” she says dryly. “I’ll admit that I’ve thought of little else since I received the news. It’s not a business deal to me; it’s the bookstore’s death sentence.”

Bryan has the tact to look contrite. Go Karli! “I’m sure. And we, uhh, that is, we’re sorry for putting you in that position.”

Cole leans forward, bracing his arms on the table and fixing his gaze on Karli. “Porter Development has never sought to push out small business owners or destroy people’s livelihoods. That is not how this business operates, and I consistently try my best to avoid it. In this case, it proved unavoidable. I’m personally sorry about that, Mrs. Stiller.”