Page 53 of Take Her
23
RHAIM
My resolve to snuff out Lia’s interest in me had stayed entirely intact until two-forty-five, upon which I’d been pulled from one meeting into another one by one of Nero’s secretaries, a nervous blonde, making eye contact and giving me a tight smile outside the boardroom I was in. We’d just finished talking about quarterly financial reports and had accomplished as much as any meeting involving fifteen people could—which was to say, not much—and I almost welcomed her intrusion. It would save me from the small talk these things always degraded into at the end—how’s your kid, how’s your sports team, how’s your boat?—and so I stood and bowed out.
“I’m double booked,” I announced loudly, before heading for the exit, where she was already leading the way. I got into the elevator with her and watched her flash her card in front of the key reader to get us up to Nero’s exclusive floor, the one for which his office was the only stop. When we reached it I got out but she stayed put, so she could take the elevator a floor back down to where her desk was.
Nero’s view of the city was spectacular. While Corvo didn’t have the highest of the skyscrapers, because compared to some of the money in the city currently Nero’s cash counted as “old,” the building had been built in an excellent location, and the area surrounding it was thriving, so much so that no other buildings had as of yet sprouted up to block the view. Nero himself was standing and looking out, his hands clasped behind him, looking like a king. He heard the elevator and spoke without turning.
“I’ve been thinking of going public.”
The hairs on the back of my neck rose at once. “Why?” I strode over to join him, already convinced of his insanity.
“The money, of course,” he said, giving me a glance and a grin.
But while I was his underling, I wasn’t paid enough to be nice when confronted with stupidity. “I have access to all of our bank accounts. Money is not currently a problem.” I’d been wondering what’d gotten into him after he’d insisted we purchase the distillery. It wasn’t like him to saddle Corvo with an albatross.
“It doesn’t matter, Rhaim, we’re doing it,” he said with a shrug.
“Explain to me again what the difference is between having nine-hundred ninety-nine million dollars you can’t spend in a lifetime is, and a billion?” I asked, and when he didn’t answer me, I went on. “If you just want another zero, break into your fancy cigars, and I’ll blow you one from smoke up your ass.”
He huffed in irritation, before turning fully towards me. “I want to make a mark, Rhaim.”
“You have,” I said firmly. “And we’re not buying a stadium or a sports team.”
Nero chuckled. “God, no. But—politics is where the real power is. And politics require funds.”
One of my eyebrows ratcheted up. “Yes, I’m aware of that. We’ve bribed enough politicians over the years.”
“You remember Senator St. Clair?”
“Of course,” I said curtly. The man’s face was inescapable during campaign season. He was somewhere between my and Nero’s age, very jowly, very gray hair. I wracked my mind for what I knew about the man from the few times we’d interacted, and what I’d read about him for the past two decades of my life. He was conservative, he’d dodged an embezzlement scandal not long ago, and his tongue was slicker than geese shit on a glass window—I hated most of what he stood for, but he sounded good when he was on a stage. He definitely wanted to be the next president.
Plus, if my memory served me right, he had two sons around Lia’s age—they’d gone on his redemption tour with him and it was clear both of them wanted to follow in his footsteps.
I got a sinking feeling in my stomach immediately.
“We can tie our wagon to his, Rhaim, with one simple little ring,” Nero said, pointing to the empty fourth finger on his left hand—because he’d just divorced his sixth wife.
“What does taking Corvo public have to do with that?”
“Simple—we’ll make a meal of it. One of the last venerable family corporations finally breaks? We’ll be all over the evening news and papers for weeks. We’ll host fireside chats, informational talks, have a gala, do some interviews and office tours?—”
“Essentially live my nightmares?” I cut in. “And for what?”
“Ostensibly, to fund the new casino. But in actuality, for fame—Senator St. Clair’s not looking for money anymore.”
“I fuckin’ doubt that,” I muttered.
“What politicians need now is the good kind of notoriety,” Nero intentionally ignored me. “We can provide that for him, with a turn of the wrist. Then can you imagine? Lia will be like Jackie O. Ferreo-St. Clair has a fantastic ring. And she’ll have the wedding of the century—you can even give that paper your beloved Isabelle used to write for the exclusive.”
“I’m sure they’ll be thrilled,” I growled.
“Rhaim,” Nero said, like he was the reasonable one. “After this happens, there’ll be more money than any of us know what to do with—and with a senator with presidential aspirations on my side, do you know the private clubs—and yachts and islands—I’d have access to?”
It wasn’t worth asking if the St. Clairs knew where the seed money for our assorted operations had originally come from—once you breached the one percent, most generational wealth had come from tainted sources. Robber barons weren’t called robber barons for nothing.
“Or it could fail spectacularly,” I countered. “Or worse yet, we succeed, and all of a sudden we’re beholden to a million squabbling shareholders, additional board members, and under even more scrutiny from not only the IRS but the SEC? I’m a genius, Nero, but I’m not a goddamned magician—there are very real boundaries to the edges of what I can do.”