Page 17 of Making It Burn
“And as I was saying, traffic exists.”I dropped back into my chair.
“Then leave earlier.”
“Or you could relax,” I huffed.
His pen stopped moving.“Excuse me?”
“Relax.You know, that thing normal people do when they’re not wound tighter than a—”
“Let’s just get to work.”He pushed a stack of documents across the desk toward me.“These are the due diligence reports from PharmaTech’s last three fiscal years.I need you to review them for any red flags—discrepancies in financial reporting, regulatory violations, anything that could blow up the merger.”
I pulled the stack toward me, flipping through the first few pages.“You’ve already been through these?”
“Twice.”
“Find anything?”
“A few inconsistencies in their R&D expenditures.Nothing major, but worth flagging.”
I looked up at him, surprised.“You’ve been here since what, six AM?”
“Five-thirty.”
“Jesus Christ.Do you sleep?”
“Do you?”
The question landed harder than it should have.I thought about last night—lying awake, thinking about him, wondering if he was thinking about me too.
“Touché,” I muttered.
For the next hour, we worked in relative silence.Mason walked me through the merger timeline, the key players on both sides, and the regulatory hurdles we’d need to clear.He was thorough, methodical, and annoyingly brilliant.
It was infuriating.
It was also kind of impressive.
“So MediCorp’s CEO is the real wildcard,” Mason said, pulling up a profile on his laptop and turning the screen toward me.“Richard Vaughn.He’s been pushing for this merger for two years, but he’s also got a reputation for last-minute demands.We need to anticipate what he might ask for and have counteroffers ready.”
I leaned forward, studying Vaughn’s picture—silver-haired, expensive suit, the type of smile that said he’d sell you a car with no engine and make you thank him for it.“Looks like a real charmer.”
“He’s a nightmare.But he’s their nightmare, so we need to manage him.”
“Define ‘manage.’”
“Keep him happy without letting him derail the entire deal.”Mason pulled the laptop back, his fingers flying over the keyboard.“Patsy’s been working on a compromise regarding executive retention that might satisfy him.I’ll send you the draft.”
“You really have thought of everything.”
He paused, just for a second, like he wasn’t sure if I was being sarcastic.“It’s my job to think of everything.”
“No, I mean—” I hesitated, choosing my words carefully.“You’re good at this.Really good.”
Mason’s eyes met mine, and something shifted in his expression.“Thank you.”
“Don’t let it go to your head.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.”But there was a ghost of a smile at the corner of his mouth.
