Tributary: A Billionaire Romance (Oak Creek Book 2)

by Lainey Davis

  I drop my head back on the couch and tell Asa all of it, how I spent most of my five years at Princeton having mediocre sex and one-sided conversations with a man who seemingly attentively hung on my every word.

  Asa eventually drops my feet and looks at me. “I don’t understand, though, how he got away with writing you out of the patent materials. Andrea can’t figure it out.”

  He pulls a photocopied paper out of his shirt pocket and unfolds it. I don’t have to look very closely to know what it is. The document where I signed away my rights to Epi-D, where I swore that I had nothing to do with the development of that exclusive extraction, nothing to do with the cultivation of that plant. I feel the tears well up in my eyes, and the heat of shame overtakes me again. “How did you get that?” My voice comes out as a wavering half-cry. Why the hell did I ever break my rules and sleep with Asa to begin with? Everything inside me is screaming to just kick him the hell out of here, to run away and never look at him again.

  But for some reason, I feel my mouth opening to tell him. “He slid the paper in with our lease,” I whisper. “I was running scans on the final strain of the plant, testing the different levels with the sensors from our partners in mechanical engineering. He told me it was the lease renewal and I just signed everywhere he had a sticky tab.”

  “Diana.”

  “Don’t!” I can’t bear for him to comfort me, or to shame me, or whatever was going to come out of his mouth. “Just don’t, Asa. He won, ok? He humiliated me in every possible way, and it’s done and I’ve spent the past few years just trying to move on with my life.”

  “How’s that working out for you?” He drops my legs to the ground. “You won’t accept help from anyone, for anything. You’re growing illegal plants in the back of a houseplant hospital, and you’re pissed at me because I gave you surprise tickets to a botany conference. Sounds like you’ve really grown.”

  “Fuck you! I never asked you to—”

  “No, you wouldn’t. You’d never ask anyone for anything, Diana. The only reason you ask your brother for tax advice is because you have no other options in your tiny, insular town where everyone just lets you flounder and hide.”

  “Flounder? What are you even doing here right now?”

  “You are the most remarkable woman I’ve ever met in my life, Diana Crawford. I took you to Seder to shock my mom, but I also wanted her to meet the woman I’ve spent the past three months obsessed with. I want my parents to stop setting me up with yentas from temple because I want you. I wanted my father to know the woman who’s so dependable, her friends call her when they need to euthanize a chicken or make sure an impromptu celestial festival has decent beer.” He rakes his palms through his stubble, pulling them down his face. “Diana, if I knew half of what that fuckwit had done to deceive you, I would have bent over backwards to earn your trust.”

  His face softens even as my lips begin to quiver. I will not cry in front of Asa Wexler. “You don’t even know what you’re saying.” My voice shakes. “I think you should leave.”

  He doesn’t budge. “Let me loan you the money for your growing certification. I’ve got more than that liquid, Diana. I can have it in your bank account by morning.”

  “Why would I accept that offer from you?”

  “Why the hell would you refuse it? Give me one reason—”

  “I want to do this myself,” I shriek at him, totally losing my cool. “I have to do this myself or he wins, don’t you see that?”

  “Diana, you have done everything on your own. You’ve cultivated the right partnerships with computer engineers. You’ve developed some sort of magic plant you can clone. Are you seriously going to deny yourself the offer of seed money?”

  “And just what do I do in return for that money, Asa? Fuck you a few more times? Sign a lease agreement maybe, with some extra pages stuck in? Suck your cock the third Tuesday of every month?”

  “That’s not fair.”

  He’s right, of course. It’s not fair for me to accuse him of any of that, but it’s not fair of him to deceive me, to come in my space and try to buy me like that. “Look, Asa, I’m not going to take your money. I’m just not going to do that.”

  This time he stands up and grabs his tux jacket from the back of the couch. “Then maybe you really are a fool,” he says. He walks toward the elevator without looking back.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  Diana

  I DON’T SLEEP at all that night. My thoughts wave back and forth, reliving the shameful, burning waves of emotion I felt after I realized Jay’s true colors, and then flicking to Asa offering me money in exchange for I don’t even know what. Why can’t he just be content to be my stress relief? There’s no denying the chemistry between us. Even now, days since I last slept with him, my body clenches at the memory of him doing nasty, delicious thing, and then hurling me around to try out more of his raunchy ideas.

  And then he sits in the moonlight and tells me I’m a goddess and that he wants more.

  A small part of me acknowledges that I, too, like the idea of more with him, of him being the one to wrap his arm around my waist at all the Oak Creek festivals. But the idea of opening myself up to that sort of risk again leaves me shivering.

  I give up trying to rest around 4 am and check out of the hotel. I wander along the high line until the sun comes up, then make my way to the train station.

  I don’t bother to check in with my family or friends when I get home. Instead I go straight to the Houseplant Haven to check on my plants. Even though I know I have nobody to buy them, that I shouldn’t even keep growing them.

  I stand for awhile and watch the equipment operating—the lights changing colors, the hydration machines misting the plant roots with their fortified water. All of it seems like a hypnotic dance, complete with flashing lights. The past few days at the conference I really felt like I was part of the scientific community again. Even the introverted botanists still get together to collaborate and swap stories.

  After a few minutes I start to really think about what Asa said. What am I even doing here in Oak Creek? Hiding my head ever since graduate school? Making astringent from home grown witch hazel? Brewing beer in my store room?

  I start to feel ridiculous. There’s no reason I shouldn’t have applied for a post doctoral appointment somewhere. What was I even thinking? That I could totally side step organized scientific industry and create something new literally on my own?

  Nobody runs entire research endeavors entirely on their own. When Hunter was with the space agency, he had whole teams of people handling publicity and strategy…he just wanted to do research. Even now, I like to yell about Asa taking all his glory, but Hunter has made it abundantly clear that Wexler Holdings helped him find strategic partners, and really utilize the support network of the college. Hunter gets to spend all his time in his lab.

  Isn’t that what I want? Do I really need my name on the side of a building? Lost in thought, I don’t hear when my brother Archer makes his way into the shop.

  “Saw your lights on, Di. When did you get back?”

  “Look at you out and about before noon.” Archer looks like he’s seen better days. He snorts.

  “It’s April and I’m a CPA,” he says. “I don’t know if I’ve slept this week.”

  I wince, noticing his bloodshot eyes and bushy beard, but then I just blurt out the question that’s been at the edge of my thoughts this morning. “What’s involved in getting an investor?”

  His eyebrows fly up. “Wow! Um, actually, I don’t know if that’s the best question for me specifically. I think that’s more of a lawyer question.” Archer scratches his chin and stretches his arms above his head. “But while you’re visiting with a lawyer, maybe you should start by asking what’s involved in suing a certain company for…well I’m sure a lawyer would know what to call it.”

  For the first time, the suggestion that I go after Jay legally doesn’t cause me to shut down. I stare at my brother, marveling that
he so casually brings up the worst thing that ever happened to me, like it’s just a simple matter of paperwork. But maybe it is. Archer finds people who embezzle. He likes to sample my beers and tell me all about tax crimes, always bringing things back to Al Capone, the notorious gangster who finally got caught on tax evasion, of all things.

  I don’t really want anything to do with Epi-D anymore. I’d rather not revisit any of that…but maybe Archer is right. Maybe it’s a relatively simple matter to get the money I need for my certification for this current project.

  “Arch, you stink,” I tell him, sniffing at him, expressing my feelings of gratitude the only way that seems natural to me. He grins and pulls me under his arm for a sweaty hug.

  “I think I need to hire someone next spring to help with the overflow,” he says, not even trying a comeback comment. “Walk with me back to the office?”

  I look around the shop, at the curtain of vines climbing up front window, of the space that has been equal parts haven and hiding place. I nod and lock up, following him to the office building he shares with Sara.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  Asa

  DIANA ISN’T RETURNING my calls. Her phone must be off, because everything goes straight to voicemail and none of my texts are being read. I asked at the hotel, and she’d checked out early. Just left town and is refusing all contact with me.

  Monday, I trudge into work early and hole myself up in my office in the dark, knocking through contracts and signing off on investments for hours before anyone else arrives. It’s well into the afternoon before I stand up to stretch and turn on the light in my office.

  “Oh, Asa. You’re here.” Andrea walks past my door and stops in her tracks. “I didn’t think you’d be in today.”

  “Why’s that?” I don’t even glance up from my monitor until, noticing something in her pause, I look up into her concerned face.

  “Well, all the drama at Epi-D. Our legal team is all hyperventilating since they got that cease and desist letter.”

  I dig my knuckles into my temples and rub a few circles. “I think I missed a memo, Andrea. Can you catch me up step by step, like I’m an intern?”

  She nods her head toward her office and I follow her around the desk, where she pulls up an email chain filled with exclamation points. “Buford reached out a few hours ago. A courier dropped off a cease and desist letter from an attorney in Oak Creek, representing a certain botanist.”

  Andrea goes on to explain how the attorney is challenging the legality and authenticity of the documents claiming Diana had nothing to do with the development of the patented plant strain and processing techniques to manufacture the Epi-D epilepsy medication. I can’t stop myself from smiling, even though I know this is costing me money.

  “I suspected you might be happy about this. What does it mean for our bottom line?”

  I clap her on the back. “I like how your mind works, Andrea. You always have Wexler Holdings at the forefront.”

  “And you don’t in this instance?” Andrea cocks an eyebrow at me.

  “I’m heading down to New Jersey. Want to come watch?”

  “Absolutely yes,” she says, pulling out her phone to summon the helicopter for us. “I take it Dr. Crawford was pleased with her conference accommodations?”

  I laugh, wishing I’d thought to consult her before springing all these surprises on Diana. “Oh I managed to fuck that one up pretty bad,” I tell her. “Maybe today I can course correct.”

  A half hour later, the two of us storm into the board room at Jay Buford’s industrial facility. “Buford,” I say, by way of greeting, “Get out of here for ten minutes.”

  He blinks at me, his hair a greasy mess, his button down shirt looking sloppy and sweaty, like he knows his house of cards is coming down today. “I said leave this room,” I repeat, noting the jaws dropping around the table. He doesn’t even say anything, just shuffles toward the door.

  When it latches, I lean forward on the table. “All right, here’s the thing,” I tell the team. “It’s not worth the billable hours to me to contest this thing. And besides, I don’t like this guy and I don’t want to stay in business with him. What’s Sara Garrett, esquire, asking for?”

  A few members of the team—shit, we really brought our most senior people for this?—exchange glances, until Tom, who is only slightly younger than my father and not much more personable, blurts out “6 mil in damages and a percentage of future earnings.”

  I laugh. Fucking right, Diana. “Give her 10 million, and then dis-invest Wexler Holdings from the company. I want all of our shares bought out.”

  Tom coughs. “Asa, sir. I cannot advise this course of action. Wexler Holdings is not in the habit of separating from profitable, promising endeavors such as—”

  “Tom, Wexler Holdings is done doing business with a company who doesn’t take care with the intellectual labor of its scientists. If they’re careless with contracts, I don’t trust them to be meticulous with medication production. We’re done here.”

  Andrea laughs and tries to keep up as I stomp out of the board room. I’m halfway down the hall when I see Buford shuffling toward me. “Mr. Wexler. Asa. What do you think you’re doing?”

  “Buford, think of it as scraping a wad of dog shit from the bottom of my shoe.”

  “Do you know how much money you’re giving up? We’ve been a cash cow for you. You can’t treat me this way.”

  “You’re welcome to engage your own legal team to pursue the case if you like. I’m not sure how you’ll afford it once you’ve bought out my shares in the company. My legal team won’t be requesting a gag order or any sort of nondisclosure from the plaintiff, so I hope she feels free to talk about the case.” I step closer to him, looking down my nose at this disgusting excuse for a human, trying to quell my rage at the thought of him manipulating Diana. Through gritted teeth, I growl “If I hear that you contact her, even in writing, I will ensure that you are not only bankrupt but incarcerated.”

  Buford works his mouth up and down but no sound comes out. I barely resist the urge to spit at him, and Andrea tugs on my arm. “The copter is ready to take us back,” she says.

  I pause in the hall. A thought occurs to me, and I know it’s impulsive, and I know my impulsive choices have been my downfall when it comes to Diana, but this one feels right. “Hang on, let me grab Tom,” I tell her. “I’m going to tender my resignation.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  Asa

  “ASA, WHAT IN the hell are you thinking?” I wondered how long it would take my parents to show up at my apartment after I cleaned out my office. The answer is 15 minutes, which likely means they actually walked, since the traffic outside is in gridlock.

  “About which part, Dad?” I sprawl out on the sofa, chewing a pack of gum I bought at the corner store, wearing sweatpants on a week day like the unemployed man I am.

  Dad is spitting mad and my mother is a very dark shade of purple as Dad keeps yelling. “About the part where you resigned from the company that bears your name! That is supposed to be the legacy you give your sons!”

  “It’s still our money,” I point out. “My future kids will be just fine. As are your kids. I don’t see you nagging at Esther to get her MBA.”

  My mother drops onto the chair opposite me. “Asa, your sister is not cut out for leadership, and you know that.”

  I shrug. “It’s just not something I want to do anymore,” I tell them. “And I named Andrea my successor—she’s better than me. You must have noticed when you were still there, Pop. She just landed that company that makes the compostable silverware. She’s very forward-thinking.”

  It’s not often that my parents are rendered speechless, so I take advantage of the silence by cracking my gum. I don’t tell them I also plan to unload the apartment here in New York and take up permanent residence in what Diana refers to as the Espanshade house. Today was just step one of my long game, and I didn’t even realize I had one of those until Diana made her
move.

  “And just what do you plan to do with yourself, darling?” My mother shifts closer, trying a new, nurturing approach.

  “I’m applying for a position in another company,” I tell her. “It’s a start up with huge potential and I’ll get to be hands on from the get-go. It’ll be like all those electives I took at Wharton but couldn’t pursue because I had no career options.”

  “This lifestyle comes with responsibilities, son,” my father interjects. “You can’t just waltz in and out—”

  “Dad, I find this lifestyle stifling,” I interrupt. I sigh. “Look, I haven’t taken a day to myself in basically my entire life. And I’d like to do that now, if you two will excuse me.”

  They share a concerned glance, and my mother says, “Are you asking us to leave?”

  “I am, yes.” I stand up from the couch and walk toward the front door. My mother walks toward me as if she’s in a trance, reaching for the material of my sweatpants hesitantly. She’s probably never actually seen sweatpants before. I kiss her on the cheek. “I’ll call you in a few days. I promise. But I’ve got stuff to do.”

  My dad looks back at me, silently, as I shut the door and begin packing.

  A few hours later, I drag a chair from the garage to the front porch of my house in Oak Creek. The evening is cool but pleasant, and the stars are shining against the waning moon. I recall just a few nights ago, looking at the full moon with Diana under very different circumstances.

  “Well, hello, neighbor,” a woman’s voice calls out. I look up and smile at Hunter and Abigail, out for a walk, hand in hand. “When did you get back to town?”