Chapter 28 Who The Hell Are You Really?
Briar's POV
The question hung in the air between us, intimate and dangerous. Before I could answer, Lucian pulled back with that infuriating half-smile and stood. "I'll see what I can do."
He disappeared toward the training grounds, leaving me alone with my racing heart. I pressed my palms against my thighs, trying to focus on what I needed to say to Reginald, but my mind kept circling back to the warmth of Lucian's fingers on my chin.
I forced myself to watch the crowd filtering through the lounge, and that's when the first crack appeared in Lucian's carefully constructed facade. A silver-haired man in an expensive suit paused to nod at Lucian as he passed.
Then a woman with diamonds at her throat smiled warmly in his direction. Within minutes, I'd counted at least five people acknowledging him with the kind of deference reserved for equals in Seattle's business hierarchy.
These weren't casual greetings. These were calculated acknowledgments of power recognizing power.
When Lucian returned and gestured for me to follow, I fell into step beside him. "You seem to know a lot of people here," I said carefully. "For someone who just comes to ride horses."
His expression remained pleasantly neutral. "Seattle's business community isn't that large."
The deflection was smooth, practiced. I scanned the observation deck, recognizing faces from business journals. Every person here had connections to Emerald Forest Real Estate. This wasn't a casual polo match, and Lucian had walked in like he owned the place.
The Maybach. The Patek Philippe. The way that receptionist had waved us through. The lottery story was complete bullshit, and anger flared in my chest, but I forced it down. I needed this meeting more than I needed answers about Lucian's deception.
"The VIP lounge is this way," Lucian said, guiding me toward a glass-enclosed space. A server appeared instantly with tea and pastries. "Make yourself comfortable."
Through the observation glass, I watched Lucian walk onto the training grounds where Reginald stood examining a horse. Even from this distance, I could see the easy familiarity in how they greeted each other, the genuine laughter when Reginald clapped Lucian on the shoulder. This wasn't a business acquaintance. This was real friendship.
Who the hell are you really, Lucian Kincaid?
Two hours crawled past before Reginald finally entered the lounge with unhurried confidence. He was shorter than I'd expected, with silver hair and shrewd eyes that assessed me in a single glance. "You must be Robert's granddaughter," he said, settling across from me. "I can see the resemblance."
"Thank you for agreeing to meet with me, Mr. Smith."
"Your grandfather was a good man," Reginald continued as if I hadn't spoken. "We worked together on that land dispute back in 2003. He had a sharp mind for contracts." He paused. "Of course, we weren't particularly close. Professional associates more than friends, you understand."
The message was clear. Whatever debt might have existed had limits.
Reginald launched into rambling stories about charity galas and golf tournaments, his tone pleasant and meandering in a way that made my skin crawl with frustration. I forced myself to nod politely while inside I screamed at him to get to the point, but I knew what he was doing. This was a test, waiting to see how long before desperation made me break protocol.
Twenty agonizing minutes passed before I couldn't take it anymore. "Mr. Smith, I appreciate you sharing these memories, but I should be direct about why I asked to meet with you today. I'm seeking commercial financing for Ironwood Pack."
Reginald's expression remained pleasant, but he said nothing. Just looked at me with those shrewd eyes and took another sip of tea.
The silence stretched between us, thick and suffocating. One minute. Two. Five. I could feel sweat gathering at my back, my pulse hammering in my ears as the quiet became unbearable. Every second that passed felt like an eternity, the weight of his gaze pressing down on me until I wanted to scream just to break the tension.
Finally, I couldn't stand it anymore. I rose to my feet, my chair scraping against the floor. "I'm sorry, Mr. Smith. This was presumptuous of me. I shouldn't have taken up your time."
"Sit down, Miss Vance."
His voice cracked like a whip, and I froze. Slowly, I sank back into my chair, my heart in my throat.
Reginald leaned back, studying me. "If I don't lend you this money, what will you do?"
The question caught me off guard. I forced myself to think past my panic. "You'll lend it to me," I said finally, my voice steadier than I felt.
One silver eyebrow rose. "And what makes you so certain?"
"Because you spent the first twenty minutes establishing that you owe my family nothing," I said, the pieces clicking together. "You wanted me to understand that any help you give me isn't based on sentiment or old debts. Then you stopped me from leaving instead of letting me walk out, which means you're interested, but you need me to offer you something worth your while in exchange."
For the first time since he'd sat down, Reginald smiled. It was a sharp, approving expression that reminded me of a wolf recognizing another predator. "Robert would have been proud of you," he said. "You're right. I'm prepared to lend you three million dollars. But I want something in exchange."
My hands gripped the armrests. "What do you want?"
"If you win the Apex Bio-Solutions contract, I want exclusive distribution rights for the Lunar Stabilizer main product line," he said calmly. "Emerald Forest Real Estate owns the largest chain of pharmacies and health supplement stores in Seattle. We could make your product a household name overnight."
The scope of what he was asking hit me like a physical blow. Exclusive distribution rights meant handing over our primary revenue stream to his company. If we succeeded, it would make him rich. If we failed, we'd owe him three million dollars with nothing to show for it.
"Mr. Smith," I said carefully, "we haven't even won the bid yet. I can't guarantee we'll secure the Apex contract."
"If I thought you had no chance of winning, I wouldn't be sitting here," Reginald said bluntly. "Business is about calculated risks, Miss Vance. I'm betting on your success. The question is whether you're willing to bet on yourself."
I stared at him, my mind racing through the implications. With Ash refining the marketing strategy and three million in capital, Eric could continue development. All I needed to do was root out whoever was leaking information to Julian and execute our promotional campaign. If I could plug that leak, we had a real shot at this.
But if I was wrong, if I failed, I'd be handing Reginald the keys to everything we'd built while still drowning in debt.
My father's voice echoed in my head, sneering about my ambitions. Julian's cold smile as he'd told me I'd never escape him. Every person who'd ever told me I wasn't enough, that I'd fail, that I should give up and accept my place.
I straightened my spine and met Reginald's eyes. "I accept your terms."
"My legal team will draft the agreement," he said, standing and extending his hand. "Once it's signed, the funds will be transferred."
I rose and shook his hand, feeling the weight of what I'd just committed to settling over my shoulders. "Thank you, Mr. Smith."
"Don't thank me yet," he said with that sharp smile. "Just make sure you win that Apex contract."
As I moved to leave, his voice stopped me. "Actually, Miss Vance, I'm heading up to the Summit Club for dinner. Why don't you join me?"
I turned back, caught off guard. "That's very kind, but I don't want to impose—"
"You can tell me about your plans for securing the Apex bid," he interrupted smoothly. "Since I'm about to become one of your investors, I'd like to hear how you intend to spend my money."
The request was phrased as an invitation, but we both knew it was anything but optional. I forced a smile. "I'd be honored, Mr. Smith."