I need a couch for 48 hours, just until my legal team can file an injunction and unfreeze my secondary accounts. I'll pay you triple your old day rate once I have access to my funds. It's not about the money. Roland gestured around the room. Look at this place.
I live in an 800 square ft walk up. I have a 7-year-old daughter sleeping in the next room. This isn't a safe house for deposed corporate royalty. It's a home. I won't be in the way.
You are always in the way, Vivienne. That's your entire personality. She flinched. It was a small movement, but in the dim light of the kitchen overhead, Roland saw it. For 6 years, he had buffered her from the world, translating her demands into polite requests, softening her edges for the board and the press.
He had never spoken to her like this. I'm cold, Roland," she said, her voice stripped of its usual armor. "Please," he let out a long, heavy sigh. He hated that he still had the instinct to fix her problems. He walked into the bathroom, grabbed a clean towel from the rack, and tossed it to her.
She caught it awkwardly. "Take the coat off before you ruin the rug," he muttered. "Not that it's worth much, but it's mine. " Viven unbuttoned the soaked trench coat and draped it over a kitchen chair. Underneath, she wore a simple, ridiculously expensive silk blouse and tailored trousers. She wrapped the towel around her shoulders, looking small.
Roland walked into the kitchen and put the kettle on. I don't have espresso. I have instant coffee or chamomile tea. Tea is fine. She stood by the island watching him move around his kitchen.
He moved with a relaxed efficiency she wasn't used to. In the office, Roland was always tense, always anticipating the next disaster. Here, wearing a faded band t-shirt. He looked like a different man. "Who betrayed you? " Roland asked, dropping a tea bag into a mug.
Viven scoffed bitterly. Who didn't? My uncle spearheaded it, but he needed a majority. The CFO flipped. Head of acquisitions flipped.
They cited the Japanese deal, stalling as proof I was losing my touch. She looked at him, her dark eyes narrowing. The deal you refused to help me close. Roland poured the hot water and slid the mug across the counter. Don't put this on me.
You built a company entirely out of mercenaries. You shouldn't be surprised when they do mercenary things. She wrapped her hands around the warm mug, letting the steam hit her face. They planned it for months. They waited until I was isolated.
They even tipped off the door man at my building not to let me up. So, you grabbed a suitcase and got on a subway. I took a cab. She corrected him defensively. I had a $50 bill in my coat pocket.