Page 67 of Strictly Business
Chapter Thirty-Four
FINN
“WHAT HAPPENED TO YOU?” Wide green eyes stare as I fall into the chair across from her. “Babe, I have to call you back,” she says into the phone hanging up without waiting for a response. “Finn, are you okay? Do you need ice?”
“I’m fine, Nin,” I say, mustering my best smile.
“You get mugged or something?” Nina walks around her desk and grips my chin like a mother inspecting her child. I cringe when her fingers lightly graze over the bruise that extends from my jaw into my left cheek.
“Or something.”
“Damnit, Finn. We have a meeting with your board tomorrow!”
“I know that, Davina.”
“You can’t walk in there like that. Find a way to cover it up because we can’t push this meeting. Not when we have the fundraiser in a week.” The way she looks at me is disheartening. I feel like I’m sitting across from Mom when I told her I dropped out of college, again. Nina is disappointed, rightfully so. Probably feeling a little letdown. I told her shit like this wouldn’t happen, I promised, and here I am, showing up the day before a meeting with a bruised face. This was supposed to be my fresh start, and from where she’s sitting, it’s just more of the same ole Sheffield bullshit. “What the fuck happened?”
“I think it’s best if we don’t discuss it, right now.”
Nina lifts herself onto the desk and rubs her temples, mumbling something I can’t quite make out in Italian. I hate when she does that. “You’re lucky I don’t have time for this shit today.”
“What do you have time for, then?” I smirk, but her death glare is enough to shut up.
“You are ready, right?”
“Yes. Everything is done. You don’t have to worry.”
“Are you sure you’re ready to handle this, Finn? Are you sure you can handle this? This isn’t something you can toss aside when you get bored. This isn’t Rosecliffe or the paper or Amanda. This is real…”
“I know.”
“…This is my company, and I’ve stuck my neck out to ensure you got a fair chance here.”
“And, I appreciate it. Truly, Davina. You’ve given me more than you know by helping me.”
“What if they decide they don’t like something you’re doing?” My stomach sinks. “Are you ready to face them? To stand up for yourself and your decisions. Are you truly ready to be a business owner?”
No.
“Yes, of course.” I can only hope she half believes me. I’ve never considered it like that, but the board members must like what we’re doing, or they wouldn’t have agreed to join. Regardless, I know she’s right. I have to be ready for anything, including pushback from the board. I have no choice but to continue to win them over and ensure they approve the goals we want to achieve within the next year. “I’ll always respect whatever decision the board makes. However, I don’t see how they could turn this down. I mean, it’s for the kids, right?”
“You don’t know the board,” she smirks and steps down from the desk. “Oh, how has Michaela been?”
“She’s been…”
Wait, what? Surely, she doesn’t know.
“I don’t know; I haven’t seen her since Coney Island.”
“I have eyes all over this city, Finnley.” That fucking smirk is back. Like she knows something I don’t. She sits back in her chair and fiddles with her pen. “You know, I was happy to see that you guys had put whatever issues you had aside and decided to make the most of it.”
“Well, we agreed to keep things strictly business for the good of the project.”
Nina stares at me, chewing on her bottom lip like she’s deciding whether or not to say what’s on her mind. Finally, she sighs and lets the real question go. “Well, let’s go. We need to meet Sasha downstairs and I want to see what you have for tomorrow before you leave.”
I flip through my presentation slides, trying to concentrate on the words instead of the ache in my jaw. I’m waiting for the damn peas to refreeze so I can use them again. Tomorrow has to go well. I can’t risk letting Nina down, instead of focusing on the presentation, my mind wanders to a condo seven miles away on the Upper East Side. I shouldn’t be surprised I haven’t heard from her. Part of me hoped I would have heard something by now, at least let me know how things went with Josh. I’m more worried for him than I am for her. I firmly believe she’s capable of murder. The question is, would she call me to help bury the body? Probably not. She’d probably call Caitlin — I would, too.
Should I call her? I should check on her or at least text to make sure she’s okay. Picking up my phone, my heart jumps at the new text notification. It falls just as fast when I see the name next to it: Oliver.