New York Billionaires Series

“Not yet. The beast is just starting to turn around.”

“Just? Exciteur has been profitable for months.”

“It was profitable when we bought it,” I point out. “The aim is to make it more so.”

The decision to acquire the majority share in Exciteur had been joint, but Acture always offers human capital as well as financial. I’d insisted on being the one to take on the CEO position.

Carter tosses his cards onto the table. “I fold.”

I grin. “So you were bluffing after all?”

“I’ll never tell.”

Victor looks down at his cards and there’s not a smile in sight. The bastard might be ice cold, but he knows his business. “Have you found a media company you think is right for us yet?”

Carter leans back in one of my leather chairs. “No, but I’m monitoring a few. I’ll email the short list to all of you when I have it.”

“Good,” I say. “Because you know that if you’re not running point on something, we’re going to foist a company on you.”

“Like that matchmaking business,” Anthony says, the threat hanging in the air.

Carter groans. “Please don’t. I’ll find a media company for us to buy tomorrow.”

“We joke about it,” Victor points out, “but Opate Match could go off the market any day now. If we’re going to make an offer, we need to do it soon.”

I reach for my own glass of whiskey. “It has global potential. Very small overhead. Minimal effort. Victor’s right, Carter, we should buy it soon.”

“I can draw up the papers for you tomorrow,” Anthony adds.Content property of NôvelDra/ma.Org.

Carter’s eyes narrow with betrayal. “Don’t think I don’t get what you’re doing. I’m not opposed to running point on this one, but I’ll be damned if I let you all win on walkover.”

“You folded,” I point out.

“That was before I knew this was on the cards.” He gestures to the wads of cash in the center of the fold-up table. I stash it in the closet when Joshua is home, but he’d begged to spend the night at Linda’s, talking about her son’s new video game.

“If we’re playing poker for who has to run point on Opate Match,” Carter continues, “I demand a rematch. One where the stakes are clear.”

I run a hand over my jaw, the stubble rough against my hand. “You’re not wrong.”

Victor shoots me a withering look. “Your sense of fairness is appalling sometimes.”

“Just because you lack one,” I retort. Victor St. Clair is all caustic humor and underhand business deals, and has been since the moment I met him on the other side of a negotiating table years ago. Half the time, I’m not sure why we tolerate him at all. The other half, he reminds me by bringing in an obscene amount of money through hostile takeovers.

“One final game,” Anthony decides. “The weakest hand has to run point on Opate. Fuck, that’s a stupid name.”

I drum my fingers against the velvet-clad table. “We make them an offer of purchase on Monday. No procrastination this time, either.”

“No procrastination,” Carter echoes, shuffling the cards. “I won’t fold this time, boys.”

Anthony snorts, crossing his arms beside me. If Victor is ice cold bordering on rude, Anthony is skepticism personified. Joshua once referred to him as “my sad friend” in a bout of childlike insight. He’d also been my friend through all of it. Jenny and Michael’s airplane crash and Joshua’s adoption.

I lean against him. “I’ll bet you ten thousand that Carter will fold in the first five minutes.”

“I heard that,” Carter grinds out, handing out the cards.

I tilt mine close to my chest, watching as the others do the same. The table falls into tense silence. As opposed to when we play for money, this has real stakes. I don’t have time to take on the running of a secondary company, even if it is a small, easy flip.

Judging by the cards I’ve been given, I probably won’t have to, either. Two queens and a four.

“Dealing the river,” Carter says, flipping up card after card in the center of the table.

It seems like we’re all holding our breaths.

“You know,” I say, “I think there’s an inherent value in having the one of us who’s best at romance running point on this. It is a matchmaking company, after all.”

Victor and Anthony catch on instantly.

“Imperative,” the former agrees. “For business’s sake.”

Anthony nods. “I’d be just as likely to wreck the business as I’d be to make it profitable. Matchmaking for the rich? You know I think it’s bullshit.”

Carter keeps his eyes on his cards. “I hate all of you.”

Laughing, I reach for a card in the river and exchange my four. Two queens and a king, now. I could lose, but the others would have to have a hell of a hand for that.

“Thanks for having us here tonight,” Anthony tells me as he reaches for his own card.

“Yes,” Victor drawls. “The kid’s out tonight?”

“Out of the apartment, yes, but hopefully not out on the town. He’s nine.”

“Right, right.”

“He’s at his godmother’s. Begged me to go, really. Something about her kids having a game that he really wants to play.”

“He’s getting big,” Anthony says.

“Yes. Only a few more years and I’ll have a teenager to deal with.”

“My condolences,” Carter says. “I remember how I was, and I don’t envy you.”

“Let’s hope he’s a better kid than you were.”

Carter grins at me. “Let’s hope.”

It’s over an hour later when the game comes to an end. Carter has folded, as was expected, and he’s already enjoyed a solid fifteen minutes of jokes on the topic.

Anthony is the last to show his cards. He spreads them out on the velvet table and leans back in his chair. “Sorry, Carter.”