Page 30 of Ruthless Financier
“I want you to succeed.”
“I will.” Her face lowered again. “Why are you so swee—, I mean, why are you so nice to me?”
Indigo’s hard layer was cracking, and I didn’t want to hurt her. Part of me wished she was truly my wife. It was like I saw the real Indigo now, and I didn’t measure up. I caressed her cheek and said, “Guess I always had the ability, and you’re bringing it out in me.”
“You do know you can run your businesses, instead of ripping them apart or selling them as a whole?”
She handed me a plate and I poured the fried rice on it. She did the same with the box oflo mein. Honestly, I’d not had food that wasn’t served on china and crystal in years, before today, but I kept that to myself. I said, “Then I’d be bogged down with responsibilities, and not focused on my real goal.”
“Right. Your father.” She grabbed a bottle of wine from her refrigerator and put it on the table with one of our plates. I grabbed the others as she said, “Let’s say you make this deal you’re aiming for at the golf course party. And you win your father’s company from him, Frozen Assets, in a snap. No more games. What happens next?”
She placed plates in front of us and set the silverware as I said, “First, charge its customers a lower interest rate, so the bank is no longer running predatory payday loans to the most vulnerable people out there.”
Her at-home manners were somehow calming. The last woman I was alone with had dropped her red dress on the floor and made no attempt at eating or talking.
Unlike that encounter, Indigo acted like I was a human being. She stared at me with those wide, innocent eyes that now had shades of green flashing in those blue changing mirrors of hers. “That’s also noble.”
To the world, I was the billionaire who ripped everything apart, the person no one wanted on their board unless they were looking for a lucrative out option. Yet here I was, sitting in a one-bedroom condo, being domestic. I filled my plate as I said, “It was how my father started his business, so ripping that from him will be the first shot to show him that his ways are done. That was one of the ways he always found out whenever my mom started working.”
“That’s a whole new level of abuse that’s not just physical. Mary’s lip and eye are fine now, but your mom and you suffered for years.” She finished putting food on her plate and added a Chinese fortune cookie beside mine as she said, “But in your revenge plan, you still help people.”
“That’s not the goal.” I said. We concentrated on our food for a while, then I added, “And I can’t stop his entire industry. All I can do is topple the king.”
“And his money?”
“He doesn’t care about the money as much as the power he has. When I was younger, I used to fantasize about him living on the streets and in shelters, like he’d done to us. But now I’ll be satisfied if his power deals no longer matter, and no one takes him seriously. Putting him out to pasture will destroy him.”
For a few minutes no one said anything.
I’d not had salty but satisfying food like this in ages. Sometimes, on longer trips, I brought my personal chef along to ensure I had a healthy, filling diet to keep up with my workout routines.
This trip was a fun exception. I finished my dinner as Indigo asked me, “So, you hurt your father, help some people … And how does that move make you money?”
If her point was to show me I wasn’t being totally horrible, then fine. This wasn’t about making money. It was about stopping my father. I said, “In this case, I don’t need it.”
She scooted closer and I poured the wine as she said, like she understood me, “I see.”
I handed her the glass and stared at her. Today, she beamed sunshine from her skin in a glow of innocence. If she was too much of a saint, I’d better keep my distance. I traced her arm and said, “There has been too much talking about me, Indigo.”
She put her glass down and said, “I find you interesting.”
Her kisses had intoxicated me earlier, before I knew how selfless she was. This time, I didn’t take advantage. I said, “Well, I need to know more about you.”
She curled her legs under her seat as she finished her sip of wine, and then asked, “Like what? You met my family. This is my place. Let me see … I got good grades in school.”
What made her laugh, or set her off? What did she do for fun that no one knew? Those were important. I said, “I knew that from your background check.”
She shook her head and then had another sip. “Of course.”
Her face blushed as I said, “I needed to know if you were really as perfect as I thought.”
She twisted her glass in her hand and stared into the white pinot grigio as she said, “I’m not perfect, Jacob.”
She was the closest thing to an angel I’d met. “Don’t start lying now.”
She let out a scoff and met my gaze, “I’m not, though. I take my aggression out when I drive my car, and scream at the top of my lungs when I’m mad.”
I scooted closer and ignored the thrill that raced in my veins. “Now I’m curious to see what that looks like.”
