by Amber Heart
“Yes,” she said, biting the word off. “May I sit down?” she repeated impatiently.
“Of course,” he said, waving to the seat across from him. “Am I right in assuming that you’re related to Arturo?” Possibly his daughter, he mused. Maybe he’d upset the old man more than he’d known and ruffled his family’s feathers. It had happened before and it usually cost a few extra thousand in his buyout offer to smooth them.
“I’m his niece,” she said, pulling out the chair and dropping into it, then folding her hands on the table and raising her eyebrow. “But more importantly, I’m his business partner.”
“And he thought that it would be better to send you than to come and deal with me himself?” Donovan asked, allowing her to see just a hint of his derision in his question. He’d sensed that the man he’d been speaking with for the better part of a month was a little on the timid side, but he hadn’t thought Arturo Vasquez would back out completely. He was a businessman, for God’s sake. If he couldn’t handle this, how did he run his firm?
“Oh, I insisted,” Araceli said. “Just water, please,” she went on to the waiter who had just arrived. Once he was gone, she turned back to Donovan, her brown eyes snapping. “Why don’t you tell me why you’ve been harassing my uncle for the past month.”
Donovan was tempted to ask whether she was an accountant or a prosecutor. That stare was more than a little unnerving. He took a drink of his water, trying to regain his equilibrium. He was used to being on top of these situations and he had to find his footing with this woman quickly.
“I haven’t been harassing your uncle,” he said once he’d swallowed. It would be best to deflect until he found her weak points.
“Yes, I’m sure you avoided the legal definition of harassment,” Araceli allowed. “But I’m also very sure that my uncle refused to sell you his accounting firm.”
“I don’t know that for sure,” Donovan said. “This was supposed to be our opportunity to sort it out, but since you’re here and he’s not, it doesn’t look like it’s going to get resolved today.” He wanted to put her on the defensive, make her careless.
“When you first brought it up, what did he say?” she asked, ignoring his attack at her.
“Most people refuse a first offer,” he said with a shrug. “It’s just good negotiation.”
“Ah, so he said no.” Araceli took a drink of her water now, eyeing Donovan over the rim of the glass. “And the second offer?”
“He hadn’t really taken the time to listen to what I’m prepared to offer,” Donovan said smoothly. “That’s what today was supposed to be for. I’m assuming that you’re not authorized to make these decisions on his behalf, so I’m a little insulted that the two of you would waste my time like this.”
“We aren’t the ones who’ve been wasting people’s time, Mr. Sutton,” she said coolly. “You don’t seem to be listening to me, so there’s no point in continuing this. Hear this clearly, my uncle and I will not sell you our firm, no matter what price you offer.”
“You haven’t heard my offer yet,” he said, trying to keep his voice calm. This woman, with her imperious gaze and her blunt tone, was annoying him more than anyone ever had. What right did she think she had to march into his business affairs and start telling him what would and wouldn’t happen? It wasn’t even her firm.
“I don’t need to,” Araceli said, her voice serious and unwavering. “There’s no price high enough and nothing that you could offer us to make us consider this. You’ll just have to go be king of the world somewhere else.”
“Would you care to order?” the oblivious waiter asked, refilling their water glasses.
Araceli pushed her chair back. “No thank you,” she said. “I’m leaving.” She stood, looking at down at Donovan. “I hope you’re prepared to take what I’ve said very seriously, Mr. Sutton. I’d rather you didn’t waste any more of our time at Vasquez Accounting Services.”
And with that, she was gone. Donovan could only stare after her in silent amazement. His whole body had gone tense and hot. Everyone in the restaurant was staring now. He tossed some money down on the table and walked out. The woman was walking down the sidewalk, her head down against the wind. He watched her get into a small blue car at the end of the parking lot. The last thing he wanted was her getting hysterical and saying that he was following her, so he waited until she’d pulled out onto the road and disappeared from sight before he went to his own car.
He jerked the door open and cranked the car, speeding out of the lot toward the hotel room he’d rented for the night. As he drove, he dialed his secretary.
“Gail? Extend my hotel stay here for another week,” he said, his jaw set and his tone grim.
“You have a few appointments over the next few--” she began.
“Rearrange them,” Donovan ordered. “There’s nothing that can’t be put off for a week or so. I’m buying this firm. No matter what.” He disconnected the call and drove on, his mind spinning with plans.
When he got to the hotel, he was relieved to see that it lived up to the photographs online. He normally didn’t enjoy staying at boutique hotels, but if it came down to it, he preferred them to a motel. Those had been the only other options in this town. He tossed his bag into the corner when he got into the room and pulled his laptop from its case.
Kicking his shoes off and dropping down onto the bed, Donovan typed in the wifi password and pulled up the accounting firm’s website. When he clicked the “get to know us” tab, Araceli Vasquez smiled out at him from a small photo.
According to the information on the page, she’d gotten her master’s degree in accounting the previous year. She was twenty four years old, which made her six years younger than him. He skimmed the bio of her quickly, trying to find some information he could use.
He couldn’t help the fact that his eyes kept going back to the photograph, though. She was just so damn beautiful. It was distracting. And it wasn’t important. No matter what she looked like, and no matter what she thought about him, he was going to have her uncle’s company and she was going to have to get used to it.
Donovan pushed one hand back through his hair, and then rubbed his eyes as the words on the computer screen began to blur on his third read through of Araceli’s qualifications. Exhaustion was finally catching up with him. It had been a long and frustrating day.
He turned the computer off and plugged it in to charge. Then he grabbed his toiletries and headed for the bathroom. The water pressure was good, which he appreciated. It was always a crap shoot in hotels.
He stepped under the spray, wincing slightly at how hot it was but then sighing as his muscles began to relax. He soaped up, still wondering how best to beat their resistance. He wasn’t about to let his mentor down by failing now.
Oliver Ingram, the last original partner of Ingram Norman, might be gone, but Donovan wouldn’t let the man’s faith in him be in vain. He’d do more with the company he’d inherited than anyone would have imagined. He would make it the biggest accounting firm on the west coast and then start spreading eastward, till he had the whole country. And after that, why not go global? He hadn’t made a bad start. In a little more than a year, he’d acquired more small accounting businesses than he could count. Some of them were turned into branches of Ingram Norman. Some were simply shut down so that they wouldn’t be competition. That was what he’d planned to do with Vasquez Accounting, actually.
It was in such a small town that it wouldn’t be worth the money to staff the place. Ingram Norman had a certain clientele that they served. Wealthy, trendy, bougie types. Movers and shakers. No one of that type was breathing in the dust of the Santa Ana winds out here, that was for damn sure. And he had no interest in managing small accounts.
Of course, he wasn’t going to tell the man he was going to shut the firm down. Donovan was always careful not to make promises of that type. He stayed away from definitives.
Well, except for the amount of the check he was willing
to write. For most of the firms, it was the most money they’d ever seen at once, and certainly more than they’d ever expected to get for their little businesses.
So why wasn’t that motivating Arturo and Araceli? Donovan was frustrated to find himself right back to square one. He had to find a way to get them on his side, to make them see that they were making a big mistake in not working with him. But how was he going to do that?
Donovan rinsed off and turned off the taps. As he wrapped a towel around himself, he realized that Araceli was the key. If she wanted to sell, then Arturo would agree. Which meant that he had to see her again. But even as he groaned in frustration at the thought, Donovan felt something deep in his chest that felt strangely like anticipation. Maybe even a little excitement.
Chapter 3
Two days later, Araceli opened the email her sister had promised to send and then she simply stared in shock at the list of things that still needed to be done for the family reunion and birthday party. It was longer than she’d thought possible and extremely in depth, down to the brand and type of paper plates. There was also an order for Ara to take the number of guests that had confirmed, add twenty and then figure out how much wine, beer, and soda they’d need to supply the party without the risk of running dry. The pretty colors and “fun” fonts that Silvia had used so liberally didn’t make the list one bit less overwhelming.
Ara rubbed her temples tiredly before scrolling to the second page of the document. She had a sinking feeling that there were even more pages after it. How was there still so much to do?
“Your sister is at it again, I see.”
She glanced behind her and saw Arturo looking at the list with a smile.
“Was it the five different colors or the twelve different fonts that gave it away?” she asked dryly.
“It’s the distinct combination that screams “Silvia” to me,” he informed her, trying and failing to sound serious as he scanned down the list. “Four pages? Is she serious? What still needs to be done?”
Ara made an expansive gesture with both hands. “According to this, everything.”
Arturo pulled a chair around and sat down beside her. “Why don’t you start working on the beverage equation and I’ll start making calls and assigning things? It will be harder to say no to me since I’m so old and respectable,” he said with a wink.
“Thank you,” she said in abject relief. For one thing, it meant that she wouldn’t have to make so many phone calls. For another, he was absolutely right. “Oh, wait. First we should pick what we want so we don’t get stuck with something sucky.”
Her uncle laughed. “I’m going to hazard a guess that you want to bring paper plates.”
Araceli frowned at the list. “I don’t know,” she mused. “Silvia’s plate standards are pretty high. What does she say about cups?”
“They have to be plastic. And blue. And twenty ounces.”
“I guess I can handle that.”
“In that case, I’ll bring the plates. I might even be magnanimous and bring napkins.” He glanced at the supply list and corrected himself. “2 ply, white, dinner napkins.”
“Don’t get crazy,” Araceli advised with a grin. “We have to allow other people to shine too.”
Ara was halfway through her calculations and realizing that they were going to need an approximate lake of beverages, when the phone rang. She answered, since her uncle was on the other line with one of her cousins, wheedling her to bring her famous guacamole. She knew that her cousin would give in, but not without sufficient flattery. Theresa liked the limelight. But her guacamole was the best Araceli had ever tasted.
“Vasquez Accounting Services, how can I help you?” she said.
“Just the person I was hoping to speak with.”
“I don’t--” But suddenly she realized that she did know who the voice belonged to. She couldn’t believe that he’d had the stones to call again. Her tone went cold. “I don’t think we have anything left to discuss, Mr. Sutton.”
“Just hold on,” he said, his tone easy now, a remarkable difference from the last time they’d spoken. “I know that we got off on the wrong foot when we met two nights ago--”
She made a scoffing sound. “Yes, you could say that.”
“I’d like to make it up to you,” Donovan went on without reacting to her obvious sarcasm. “I’m aware that I wasn’t exactly on my best behavior.”
Araceli didn’t quite know what to say to that. She felt like she should brush him off, or tell him that he wasn’t going to butter her up. But he actually sounded sincere. He probably wasn’t, but she couldn’t help but appreciate the effort that had gone into the attempt.
“I suppose I might not have been either,” she admitted. “But I still don’t see--”
“I don’t want to put any extra pressure on you,” he said, still sounding sincere. “I just don’t want to go away thinking that you didn’t understand why I do what I do. I have reasons, you know. I’d like you to hear what they are.”
She paused, chewing her lip. She did wonder why he was so insistent on buying the firm. They weren’t exactly movers and shakers. Her curiosity slowly began to get the better of her.
“Are you still there?” he asked.
She shook herself. “Yes, of course. All right, fine. I’ll listen to your reasons.”
“Perfect. We can--”
“Under one condition,” she cut in. She was curious, but she wasn’t stupid.
“Why am I not surprised?” he asked, catching them both off guard with the smile that crept into his voice.
“Because you might be a lot of things, but dumb probably isn’t one of them,” Araceli answered, unable to hold back her own slight smile as well. “I’m prepared to listen to your reasons, Mr. Sutton--”
“Why don’t we make it Donovan?”
“Why don’t we keep it formal?”
“Of course, Ms. Vasquez.”
She repressed the shiver that tried to crawl up her spine. “Anyway. As I was saying, I’m prepared to listen to your reasons, as long as you’re prepared to do the same. That way, you’ll go away understanding and not disappointed.”
“Of course, Ms. Vasquez,” he repeated once more. “Where would you like to meet tonight?”
“Tonight?” she repeated, her heart rate kicking up suddenly. Somehow, she hadn’t expected it to be happening so soon.
“I assume that you don’t want to drag this experience out,” Donovan said. “But I’m happy to wait, if that’s what you would prefer.”
“No, you’re right. Let’s get it over with. I assume you don’t want to go back for italian?” she asked, unable to resist needling him just a bit. He was so calm that she wanted to ruffle his feathers just a bit.
“Not particularly,” Donovan agreed, his voice tightening just a bit. “Is there anything in town more...private?”
“I know a place,” Ara said. “I’ll text you the address.”
“Is that your way of asking for my number?”
The smile was back in his voice. She remembered the way his mouth had tipped when she’d walked toward him two nights ago. She’d been so angry then that she hadn’t noticed how good it had looked. She remembered it now and cleared her throat.
“Unless you’d prefer to try to find the place on your own, Mr. Sutton,” she said, making her voice crisp.
He gave her his number and they ended the call without further small talk. She added the number to her contacts list, glancing over at her uncle as she did so. Arturo was still on the phone and he’d switched to Spanish to wheedle more efficiently. He shot her a thumbs up and she gave him a grin. He’d talk Theresa down soon enough.
She sent Donovan a text, giving him the address and quick directions to a restaurant outside of town. Araceli was glad that he hadn’t wanted Italian again, actually. She’d only suggested it to bait him, but she didn’t especially want to be seen around town with him again.
Word traveled fast and the last thing she want
ed to do was upset her uncle. He would think that Donovan had moved on to harassing her, which would make him feel guilty. Or, worse yet, he would think that she was tempted by the offer which would make him feel both betrayed and guilty. She didn’t particularly want to go through either scenario.
However, there was one person’s advice that she wanted very much right now.
“I’m going to take a longer lunch today,” she told her uncle as soon as he was off the phone. “I’ll stay late tomorrow to make up for it.”
“No problem,” Arturo said, jubilant over his hard won success with Theresa. “Bring me back a sandwich, okay?”
“Sure thing.”
Ara slid behind the steering while of her car and headed across town to the daycare center. She’d nursed the hope that somehow it would be nap time, but most of the kids were playing in the small fenced in side yard when she pulled in and got out. Silvia and another two woman were standing in the shade of a tree near the building, watching the children carefully. Araceli waved and jogged up the path. Her sister was already hurrying to greet her.