Thirty Nights (American Beauty #1) (17 page)

Chapter Twenty-Nine

The Heart Of Business

I wake up to the simultaneous sounds of a knock on my door and my alarm clock. Before I can blink, Reagan barges in with a curling iron.

“It’s your first million-dollar sale, and you’ll look like a million bucks.” She giggles.

I yawn and sit up. “Good one, Reg. We have three hours. Do your worst. Or best.”

After I shower, she sets herself loose on my hair. The whole time, she fires pearls of wisdom at top speed.

“Stay close to Denton. Don’t sit by Aiden because then you’ll smell the cologne and that’s a toughie. If you get all hot and bothered, say some Hail Marys and think of your period. Bloating, cramps, the works. Also, avoid being alone with him. An advanced guy like that only needs two minutes tops to break a woman. So, if he tries something like ‘Elisa, let me show you my office’, you say ‘thanks but no thanks’ because the moment that office door closes, you’re a goner. And anger works really well. Do you have any anger left?” she asks, brandishing the curling iron at me like a sword.

I shake my head. “No. It’s kind of hard to be mad at the man who is saving your life.”

“Sure, but it’s not like he’s doing charity. He’s getting a really cool invention in return and you’re investing the money in his companies so he’s not out anything. That’s why today, you can walk in there with your head up high.” She continues to point the curling iron at me as if I’m thinking of crawling on the floor at Aiden’s feet.

I nod, and that’s all the encouragement she needs. She’s off again. “Okay, so let’s practice. I’m Aiden, obviously.” She clears her throat and deepens her voice trying, and failing, to imitate the timbre of Mr. Sin. “Elisa, we should celebrate tonight. I own a multibillion-dollar club and there’s a table floating on water with ten thousand candles around it and unicorns for waiters. Would you like to go?”

I laugh. “No, Mr. Hale. But I do hope you and your unicorns have a marvelous romantic evening together.”

“Perfect,” Reagan says in her regular voice, and then switches to Aiden again.

Her scenarios get more and more ridiculous but this is exactly what I need. By the time she is finished with me, my cheeks hurt from laughing.

“There. You look just like young Liz Taylor,” she says, her eyes sparkling.

I look in the mirror and, as always, see Mum, from the dark hair and lashes to the dress. But this time, the image gives me strength. This is as good as I get.

“Reg, you’re a magician. I don’t think even Kate Middleton got this treatment the day she married Prince William.”

* * * * *

When Denton honks outside, I head for the door, Reagan behind me.

“Click those heels three times if you want to come home.” She winks. I give her a hug and skip past the pink rhododendrons in the front yard to Denton’s Prius.

When Denton sees me, he smiles proudly like a dad. “You’re all grown up, kid.” He laughs. “Ah, this is so exciting. I tell you, Isa, there’s no better day for a professor than seeing his student succeed.”

“I couldn’t have done it without you.” I put as much gratitude as I can in my voice.

Denton starts driving slowly, like a driver’s ed instructor. I guess once a teacher, always a teacher. When we reach Fifth Avenue in downtown Portland, my palms get sweaty. I distract myself by helping Denton look for a parking spot. But we don’t need to. In front of HH’s headquarters, there is a man in a gray suit, two Dentons tall, holding a professional plaque that says M
ISS
S
NOW
AND
P
ROF
. D
ENTON
.
Bloody hell, we have our own valet.

Denton stops his Prius, looking gobsmacked.

“Oh my, this is special treatment,” he chuckles, and gets out of the car. He looks like he is bouncing on his heels. He starts chatting up the valet who directs us to take one of the elevators to the fortieth floor before driving off with the Prius.

We climb the twenty marble steps to the revolving doors that let the masses in and out of the impressive edifice that houses HH. The high-rise curves like a modern rendition of an hourglass. Two columns stand sentinel on each side of the glass doors. The message is unmistakable: power, detachment, defense. If that’s not Aiden’s motto, I don’t know what is.

Our elevator ascends at supersonic speed. My ears pop. I use these last few moments to recite the periodic table backward in Italian.

The doors
ping
open into a glistening black marble lobby. Sleek leather furniture lines the wraparound glass wall. Aiden obviously has a thing for airy surroundings. Denton looks around like a scientist at NASA. I bet he wishes he’d brought a camera. For my part, I left mine behind—there isn’t much about today I want to preserve.

We walk, or rather I walk and Denton bounces, to the reception desk manned by a stunning African American woman with green eyes. Bloody hell, if Aiden sees her every morning, what on earth was he doing with me? With every minute I spend in his kingdom, the chasm that separates us grows deeper and his decision becomes clearer.

Denton is chattering with the beauty before him—Alicia, apparently. To my embarrassment, he starts telling her about my “stupendous invention”. I blush until a voice I’ll know even dead calls behind me.

“Elisa,” Aiden says. I turn around to face him, and the rest of the world disappears from view.

He looks forbidden. Not Adam, but the apple. He is wearing a charcoal suit, a white shirt and a purple tie. Our clothes match. His eyes shift and burn the same way they did two days ago. The only difference is the circles underneath them. I have an urge to run my finger over his skin to wipe them off. I test my lungs for air and when I find it, I muster a smile.

“Good morning, Mr. Hale.”

He extends his hand and I reach for it, knowing full well what will happen the moment we touch. Yes, there it is. The zap, the heat, the stutter in my pulse. Like last time, he doesn’t shake my hand, he holds it. It looks like he is working very hard not to look anywhere below my chin. A very simple truth finds the tiniest of cracks in this moment to seep through: I have missed him.

“I trust you found the place okay?” he asks.

Okay, joke, blink, do…something. “Yes, it’s hard to miss one hundred forty meters of low-emissivity glass.”

He chuckles but the laughter has lost that waterfall sound it had two days ago.

“Ah, Mr. Hale.” Denton has torn himself from Alicia and bounces to us. “It’s good to see you again. Thank you for hosting me. I’m sure you understand I couldn’t miss this for the world.”

“Of course. It’s not a problem, Arthur.”

Denton bobs and chuckles. “Ah, no prouder moment for a professor than to see his student outdo him. I’m not at all surprised it turned out this way. I knew all along someone would see the potential of her little supplement.”

I study Aiden’s face. I expect it to harden because someone is wasting his time but, instead, his eyes soften.

“Yes, a little miracle,” he says, and for a moment I don’t think that he and Denton are talking about the same thing.

Aiden directs us to a conference room with another view of Mount Hood. As always, he steps back to allow us first. The conference room is intimate, smaller, with frosted glass walls, wood furniture and soft suede chairs. It feels less like an office and more like Aiden’s home. I can’t decide if this is meant to make me comfortable or not.

“Would you like something to drink?” Aiden asks us.

“I’d love some tea. Whatever you have handy,” says Denton. He takes one of the plushy chairs. Good, I was waiting to see where he would sit so I could sit next to him. I take the chair to his right.

“And you, Elisa?”

“Some water, Mr. Hale, thank you.”

As he gives the glass to me, I’m distracted by his long fingers. I take the water, trying not to touch them. I’m already at the edge and we haven’t even started.
Idrogeno, 1.008. Elio, 4.003. Litio, 6.94. Berillio, 9.012…

Aiden sits at the head of the table, opposite the door—of course. I wonder why. Or am I being an overobservant science geek?

“Elisa, here is a copy of the sale agreement. Here is one for you too, Arthur. Why don’t you read it and we can discuss?”

I read the agreement carefully, trying not to get lost in the legalese. HH will pay me the net sum of one million dollars, as well as any taxes on this amount, effective today. In exchange, I grant HH all intellectual property rights on the “Supplement”, which includes the formula, test results and all my methods, concepts and ideas.

Exactly as we discussed. Fair and reasonable. But my breath catches at one of the terms.

Immigration Outcome. If Inventor’s application to immigrate in the United States fails for any reason, HH will return the Supplement and all Intellectual Property Rights to the Inventor, and will not disclose such Rights to a third party or use them in competition with the Inventor. Inventor is under no obligation to return the Purchase Price of $1,000,000.00 to HH.

Bloody hell!
It takes me a few moments to find my voice.

“Mr. Hale, everything looks great, but are you sure about this paragraph? If you give me back the supplement, you’d be out a million dollars and I wouldn’t be out a thing.”

“I’m quite sure. And I can’t take credit for it. It was your idea. You proposed to invest the money in my companies so I wouldn’t be out a dime. It seems fair that I extend the same thoughtfulness to you.” He looks at me with some strong emotion, except I don’t know what it is.

“Thank you,” I say because no other words will do. I can’t refuse it. The only reason I’m parting with the supplement is so that I can stay and not feel like I bought my American dream with sex rather than hard work.

“Are there any terms you would like to add?” he asks.

“Yes, but they’re minor.” I pull out my notes from my purse. I don’t really need them but I do need a paperclip, and this gives me an excuse.

“Let’s hear them,” Aiden says, smiling.

I run through my terms slowly, checking them as I go. Recognizing my dad in press releases, not using the supplement as a performance-enhancing drug, not turning it into a biological weapon. For each term, Aiden nods thoughtfully. As always, he takes no notes.

“We’d make good business partners,” he says as I check off my final term. “Is there anything else you would like to discuss?”

I take a sip of water and keep my voice even because this last one is important to me. “Only one thing: if you ever want to sell the supplement, will you let me know first in case I can afford to buy it from you? If I can’t, you would be free to sell it to someone else.” I’m not sure I’ll ever have the money, but at least I’ll have the option and I’ll follow its journey wherever it goes.

“I doubt very much I will ever part with it, Elisa, but if I do, I agree to your term.” That nameless strong emotion floods Aiden’s eyes again. I search his face for clues but he controls it immediately.

“Then, that’s all, Mr. Hale.” I smile hugely. This was much easier than I thought. I didn’t break down once and he didn’t argue. “Thank you for making this so easy.”

“I’m not known for making things easy, Elisa.”

Is he referring to our disastrous morning-after? Probably. But suddenly I don’t want to focus on the negatives anymore. What he said to me, what I said to him. They won’t help, and it’s not how I want to remember us. I want to think only about the good things he brought into my life. That way, with time—with a
very, very
long time—maybe I will be able to let him go. Until then, there is no reason for him to suffer in guilt.

I smile at him. “All is well that’s
meant
well.” I modify the expression, hoping he understands my olive branch.

He smiles without his dimple. “It’s only so far your intentions can take you. Now, there is something I’d like to discuss.”

“What is it?”

“What I do with the supplement and where you invest the money. I know you want to invest it in one of my companies. To be frank, it’s the fairest business deal anyone has offered me. However, I’d like to propose an alternative.”

He pushes a button on a triangular device on the table and a screen drops from the ceiling against the wall facing Aiden. It lights up with a massive organizational chart. It takes me a moment to realize that this is the universe of his companies. All 120 of them.

Aiden stands. He moves with fluid precision despite his unrelenting rigidity. The motion is so hypnotizing that I have to look away.

On the screen, he circles a few companies. “These are the companies that will meet the immigration standards. You’re welcome to invest in and work at any of them if you wish. But would that make you happy? Or wouldn’t you much rather work in a laboratory, inventing and testing?” He leans over the table, his eyes ablaze as if he is trying to extract my thoughts.

“Well, to be honest, science is the only thing I’ve ever wanted to do. But I can find a job in a lab once I have my green card, Mr. Hale. You don’t need to hire me.”

“I’d like to give you another option. Would you consider investing the money in a new company, a laboratory that
you
would own and run to do whatever you wish?” His voice is gentle, but his eyes bore into me with the same fiery intensity.

I sink back in my chair. My hand flies to my sternum where a new lifeblood is rushing strong and heated. Aiden just offered me my dream. Not just the American dream, but my professional dream. I have always wanted my own lab where I could work away from the influence of huge pharmaceutical companies.

“But wouldn’t it take more than a million dollars to develop a laboratory?”

“Easily,” says Denton, sounding awed by the offer too.

“That’s where I come in. As you know, I make money by owning equity in other companies. But I plan to transition into making, building and producing on my own. Especially products that can support the U.S. troops. Your supplement is a good example because it’s light and small so it packs well. It also has potential for charitable use, including emaciated civilians the troops are tasked with caring for.” He speaks fast—a tone of urgency in his voice. It sounds like he has been in the theater himself. An idea forms in my head.