Chapter One
Lena
Present time
The head of my security, Adam, gave me a nod as I touched the keycard to the sensor and a green light appeared. My bracelets jingled as I turned the knob, opening the door. Cool air met us as Adam stepped in front of me. The routine was part of our lives. My life. My temples pounded as he made a complete trek through the multiroom suite. After another nod and good night, Adam stepped out of the suite.
The door closed, the lock clicking. After securing the small chain, I closed my eyes, leaned against the solid barrier, and inhaled. The scent of eucalyptus filled my senses, replacing the aroma of the perfume I’d applied nearly ten hours ago.
Eucalyptus soothed me.
My therapist recommended a constant, something that made me feel secure even when I was away. The oil was my travel companion.
Kicking off my shoes, I sighed at the comfort from the lack of high heels and wiggled my toes against the cool gray tile. Step by step, I made my way through the eerily silent suite.
In the large living room area, the only illumination came from the city lights beyond the large panes. The pristine white furniture differed little from the white walls and long light-gray drapes.
The lights of New York City glistened with all the energy of the city itself. From this height in an upscale hotel, it was easy to forget the stench from piles of garbage accumulating on the sidewalk in the summer heat. Experience told me that the trash would be gone in the morning, only to return with the setting sun.
Removing my phone from my purse, I looked at the slew of emails. Opening one from my associate, I shook my head. The email was from Jeremy Wilde, my most trusted associate, letting me know the previous owners of Architech had contacted him again, asking about our decision on which employees would be retained from our recent acquisition. None, I wanted to reply. Two hundred and twenty million should silence them. Besides, I didn’t have time to go through all the bios that my staff had compiled.
“You’re hangry,” I said to myself before I replied with a text message.
“Busy day today. Architech is a f’n gold mine. Can’t you decide which ones to keep?”
He texted immediately back.
“Are you okay? Good day then? And no. I got the deal. I met employees. You will choose without bias.”
His argument made sense. I could look at the bios objectively. Ignoring his first question, I replied.
I’ll have a list of names by the time I’m back to Missoula tomorrow.”
“As far as the day...if we’re talking zeros, I have a good feeling.” Before I hit send, I added, “Tell the guys from Architech to go enjoy their windfall and stop pushing about the employees.”
“We promised,” Jeremy texted back.
“Your name should be Jiminy. It’s like you’re my conscience.”
“Someone has to be.”
Tossing my phone on the table and entering the small kitchen, I turned on the lights and found my dinner, the one I’d ordered this morning. The one that arrived three hours ago and sat unsupervised. A quick lift of the silver dome revealed the solidified Alfredo sauce covering the rubbery chicken and cold fettuccine noodles.
There was always the microwave.
As I lifted the plate, the gelled sauce jiggled, reminding me of Jell-O.
I wasn’t a fan of Jell-O or of cold pasta.
With a shake of my head, I replaced the lid and went to the minibar disguised behind the sleek façade of a cabinet. After removing two small bottles of Johnny Walker Red, I made my way to the bathroom. The bright light fixtures over the vanity filled the space with stark illumination. For only a moment, I looked at my reflection.
Squaring my shoulders, I lifted my chin.
During today’s marathon meeting with representatives of a well-known art gallery, I was the Lena Montgomery, the one whom others read about. The gallery wanted what Jeremy had secured nearly a month ago—the technology perfected by Architech, now owned by Venus, a subsidiary of Montgomery Holdings, which applied the concept of virtual environments.
Thinking about Architech reminded me to make a list.
Pulling names from a hat was objective—right?
I first became a player in the financial world by investing in the vision of others. Architech was an incredible vision. Now that it was ours, we controlled who had access.
Today’s meeting was with a gallery interested in utilizing the technology.
Mr. and Mrs. Mueller, the gallery owners, were older yet open to the progressive endeavor of taking the gallery from within the confines of their brick-and-mortar building in the heart of their SoHo neighborhood to virtually anywhere and everywhere.
The people at the table with me today didn’t know that their gallery had been what piqued my interest in Architech. They had been in negotiations with Architech directly until Venus stepped in.
The price had gone up.
They were outbid.
Now I had the reins, and the gallery was courting me to license what was now mine.
Opening my eyes wide, I took in the light shade of brown in the reflection. Those eyes met every gaze in the room today. My questions as well as my answers were quick and as they say, on the money. Everyone in that room knew that I held the power to make their dream a reality. They also understood that I could walk away.
That precipice was where I wanted to leave them.
I could have returned to the hotel in time for my dinner to be warm, but I didn’t.
Taking a deep breath, I let the corners of my lips move upward and my cheeks lift.
At six o’clock, the gallery was a bit too cocky for my liking. I wasn’t ready to end the day on that note. When we said our final good nights at nearly nine o’clock, the ball was back in my court. Tomorrow, they’d be willing to pay what I proposed, or I’d leave. They weren’t the only interested partners.
Unscrewing the cap on the Johnny Walker, I lifted the bottle to my lips, leaving a red ring around the mouth of the bottle from what remained of my lipstick, and swallowed. The amber liquid burned as it coated my tongue and throat. Slamming the empty bottle on the vanity, I felt my smile grow as the sound echoed through the large suite.
I mentally made a list of things to do before tomorrow morning.
Emails.
Go over the gallery’s updated proposal.
Never could I have imagined this life as a young girl.
It was busy, productive, and better than what I’d dreamed.
My life could be filled with warm dinners and a house full of people. I’d had the model. My father, mother, sister, and I had the picturesque home in suburban Chicago. Being the older daughter, I imagined going to college and settling down near my family. Marriage was an assumption. Of the two of us, my sister, Madison, was the quieter one, more of a dreamer. I was the take-charge one.
As her older sister, I had been told since she was brought home from the hospital that she was my responsibility.
That reality hit home when our parents were killed in an automobile accident. At a little older than twenty, my life changed in ways I never imagined—both of our lives did. My plans for a normal, quiet life slipped through my fingers. Our new reality took Madison and me on a bumpy ride.
I’d like to say we both were better for it, but that wouldn’t be true.