Page 15 of Marry Lies
I go still, and Luna must take my silence as acceptance, because she clears her throat.
“Shall I send a car to the airport for her?”
Fuck.
“Did he give any indication about why she’s visiting California?” I ask carefully.
She shakes her head. “No. Just that she’s here for business.”
Business? What business?
I nod once. “Okay. Please send the car.” I may have run out of our lunch last week, but I’m not a complete asshole. Especially when it’smyfather who coordinated the entire lunch last week. Prescott might’ve thought he was in on it, too, but I know how conniving my father is. “Where is she staying?”
Luna glances down, shuffling through several papers. “It doesn’t say.”
“Fine. Tell Louis to take her wherever she needs to go. I’m headed into the office. See you later tonight,” I tell Luna quickly before I overthink anything.
I catch a mischievous smile sliding across her face as I walk away and out the front door. Knowing I still have plenty of meetings to prepare for, I waste no time in climbing into the black Escalade waiting for me by the gate. It’s a twenty minute drive to downtown Crestwood, where the office for Ravage Consulting Firm is located. Niro, my driver, waves once before we head out.
I organize my thoughts for my nine-thirty meeting, ignoring the sense of doom when I think about why I had three cancelled meetings today. I shouldn’t be shocked, and yet I am. I’m thirty-six and nowhere near naive enough to think that first impressions don’t matter. Rumor mills persist, and unfortunately, they still control public opinion more than anything else. And yet…I really wish that weren’t the case. It’s the twenty-first century. Chase and I have turned RCF into a massively successful business, all on our own.Despiteour last name.
However, we still hit walls with new companies constantly. The hesitant emails. The last minute cancellations. The wary glances and nervous smiles, like they’re waiting for either Chase or I to turn into a viper and steal all their money. No matter how many success stories we have, there are still people who associate RCF with the Ravage family, and everything that happened with our father.
To this day, my father’soneday in jail before he was bailed out—and the subsequent press coverage of his trials—follows all five of us around like the plague. It clings to the air whenever we introduce ourselves, and it has tarnished a lot of relationships. It also made for great tabloid fodder, as well as harsh opinion pieces, such as the most recent one inLA Weekly.
I close my eyes as I recall the scathing article and the headline shared over fifty-thousand times.
“Business Versus Bullying: How Far Is Too Far for Ravage Consulting Firm?”
While my father was formally and legally acquitted of his supposed crimes, no one could ignore all the people—and corporations—that he fucked over with his bad financial advice. Everyone assumed he went into hiding because he was guilty, which only intensified the hatred for the rest of us.
I mean, it’s been years, and people are still publishing garbage about us.
Quickly dismissing my thoughts, I focus on my meeting.
Once I’m inside the building, Chase debriefs me as we walk into the main meeting room together. It’s a large nonprofit based in Los Angeles. They are growing rapidly after utilizing social media influencers to push their product, which is a secondhand clothing store specializing in plus-size clothing. It’s a great concept, and I am confident when I walk into the room to start our spiel.
I’m very apt at sizing people up, and I know almost immediately that these three potential clients aren’t going to be signing any sort of contract today. I play with my pen as Chase takes the lead, explaining what we can do for them if they decide to work with us.
What’s the fucking point?
I swear, meetings like this are like an adult version of choosing teams in school.
When he’s done, one of the women clasps her hands together and sighs. “Thank you both for meeting with us,” she says, looking between me and Chase. “Obviously, you’ve both done your research and your client list is impressive. But I must be honest and tell you that I wasn’t sure about having this meeting today.”
The two men shuffle uncomfortably, and all three of them murmur quietly amongst themselves.
Chase nods and I stiffen in my seat.
Here we fucking go again.
“I understand your concern,” he says calmly, leaning forward in his chair. There’s a reason he’s usually the one to speak during the meetings. One, because he’s the President, but most importantly, he can fake it like no other. Plus, he’s charming as fuck. Something I’ve never been able to perfect.
“But I can assure you that we are very good at what we do. We have the funding sources and the clout—”
The man across from us clears his throat. “I think what Wendy is trying to say is we’re meeting with other businesses to secure the funding, and we want to ensure that we have a solid team behind us. To be honest, we were more curious about you than anything, and while your presentation today has been impressive, I don’t think we can risk working with you. I’m sorry for wasting your time.”
Tale as old as fucking time.
