The case drew so much media attention because Ares Bane was a philanthropist. The man funded many charities, built a reputation on his acts of goodwill and after his death, it was revealed that he was the anonymous donor behind not one but two children’s hospitals along the eastern seaboard as well as a nationwide literary initiative.
I’m hopeful that the books I’m buying will give me more insight into Kavan and the company that his father founded decades before his death.
“You live in the neighborhood, don’t you?” Slate asks.
Surprised that he knows that, I narrow my eyes. “Maybe.”
He huffs out a deep-seated laugh. “I’m not stalking you. I’ve noticed you walking past.”
With a tilt of his elbow, he motions toward the bank of windows at the front of the store. “I like to people watch. It’s hard not to pay attention when you walk by.”
I could get used to this level of flirting.
“I’ll take these to the counter for you, Juliet,” he says my name with a lilt at the end. “Maybe sometime when you’re passing by, I’ll stop you to say hi.”
I smile. “Maybe I’d like that.”
Chapter Fifteen
Kavan
I spot Graham as soon as I enter the bar.
It’s vacant except for him and the bartender. This is the very reason why I prefer to meet my friends for a drink here.
It’s a small place close to my home that has a very limited clientele.
That’s not by design but by fate.
The owner once complained to me that she was close to shutting down for good because sales had slipped once a few new bars popped up within blocks of here.
I pad her sales on a monthly basis to keep it open.
Perhaps if the entrance wasn’t halfway down an alley, clear out of view of the street, she might be able to stay afloat on her own merit.
“Bane!” Graham calls to me from where he’s seated next to the bar. “I’m over here.”
That’s typical Graham. Pointing out the obvious.
I stalk toward him. “Where are Sean and Harry?”
Normally, when Graham summons me to meet him for a drink, it quickly turns into a foursome.
“Not here.” He laughs at his joke.
I shoot him a glance before I take the seat next to him.
There’s no need for me to order. The whiskey I prefer will be set in front of me within seconds.
I nod when the bartender does just that.
I take a mouthful and swallow it quickly. “What’s going on?”
“Let’s start with why you were at the office today,” he sidesteps the reason he called this meeting.
I shoot him a look meant to tell him to back off, but he’s daydreaming about something because his eyes are pinned to the top of the bar.
“Let’s not.”
That lures his gaze in my direction. “You can handle anything from home except the board.”
Nodding, I tap a finger against the rim of the tumbler in front of me. “It’s related to the board.”
“Are they still whining about revenue?” He shakes his head. “That will turn around. Tell them to fuck off.”
“I have,” I point out, before going on, “I prefer to do it in a way that won’t cause them to revolt.”
He takes a pull from the bottle of beer in his hand. “What do they want from you?”
“What they always want,” I bite back. “Details, an apology, a time machine so I can redo that night and bring…”
“Ares back,” he finishes my thought.
I take another mouthful of the amber liquid and let it trail down my throat slowly.
“They’ll drop it at some point,” he assures me. “It can’t go on forever.”
He’s wrong about that. The board is acting at the behest of the shareholders of Bane Enterprises. My father structured the company in such a way that he had to answer to them. I inherited his shares, so that burden falls on my shoulders.
“I’ve arranged to be interviewed beginning on Monday,” I confess because soon it will be breaking news, and Graham, Sean, and Harrison deserve a heads-up.
“What?” This time the question is shrouded in disbelief.
I toss my head back and exhale. “It’s not about that night. It’s about my vision for the future growth of the company. This article is designed to shift the focus from the past to the future.”
“You think that’s going to work?”
“It will,” I insist as I shoot a glance in his direction.
“What big name landed this interview?” he asks, concern edging his tone. “You’re doing this in print, right? You’re not going to appear on my TV screen.”
“Print,” I assure him. “The reporter’s name is Juliet Bardin.”
“Juliet Bardin?” he repeats. “Isn’t that the woman who just nabbed the exclusive photos of Corla Berletti’s engagement ring?”
A deep-seated chuckle escapes me. “How the fuck do you know that?”
He taps one of the pockets of his jeans. “Sean sent me the link.”
“He’s a Melster.”
Graham’s head falls back in laughter. “That’s some funny shit, Bane.”
I fight off a smile. “Juliet will interview me, and the article will appear in New York Viewpoint.”
He pushes his dark hair back from his forehead. “She’s going to push you about the past.”
“She won’t.”
“She will,” he argues. “Any journalist worth their weight will.”
He’s right, but Miss Bardin is too eager for the brass ring that has been dangled just out of her grasp. She wants a permanent job with New York Viewpoint, so she won’t fuck this up.
Graham scratches his chin. “I hope to hell this goes the way you want it to, Kavan.”
“It will.” I sip from my glass. “Tell me why we’re here, Locke. You didn’t call me down here to probe me about my life.”
He leans back. “You’re right. I didn’t.”
I wait with a perked brow for him to say more, but he closes his eyes.
I give him a nudge with my elbow. “Spit it out, Graham. What do you need? Name it.”
When his eyes pop open, I see something I’ve rarely seen before. Emotion has taken hold of my closest friend. The last time I witnessed this, he clumsily confessed to falling in love with his wife.
“What’s going on?” I press. “Tell me.”
His hand lands on my shoulder, and with a squeeze, he looks me dead in the eye. “I want you to be the godfather for my daughter, Bane. Trina and I are expecting a baby girl in six months.”
I turn to the side to face him. “What the fuck?”
His hand doesn’t move. “Trina insisted on waiting to tell anyone until she was past the first trimester. We talked about this, Kavan. Trina wants you to be the baby’s godfather as much as I do.”
I have no idea what the hell that entails, but I’d do anything for Graham and his wife.
“I’ll do it.”
He moves to embrace me. It’s only happened a handful of times during our friendship. Most notably, the night I was released from jail.