His building had a doorman. Of course it did. Melanie gave the older man a kind smile as he bowed his head to her. The West Central Park luxury building had a lobby as big as the entirety of her Williamsburg apartment and Melanie tried not to be intimidated by that as she crossed to the gold-plated elevator doors.
She was stopped, halfway, by a gruff voice and she practically jumped out of her skin and turned back to see a bear of a man staring her down, disapprovingly, from behind his rounded marble desk. “Do you live here, miss?” he asked, in a voice that said he knew very well that she did not.
“No,” Melanie said, “but my colleague is expecting me.”
“That’s all very well,” he said, “but you’ll have to sign in and I need to get confirmation from your…colleague.”
“Do I really have to?” Melanie asked. She’d never had to sign in just to visit somebody’s apartment.
“Those are the rules,” the man, whose name tag read only “Henry” confirmed. She wondered if that was his first name or his last. He didn’t look like a Henry, either way. “I didn’t write them,” he continued. “I just enforce them.” He held up a clipboard and beckoned her toward the desk.
Melanie sighed, again, casting one more longing glance toward the elevator. She wondered if she could outrun Henry the Bear, or if she should just do what he said and sign the clipboard, as pointless as it seemed. She wondered if Aiden would tease her about this later, as a...friend? Were they friends? Or was she just his charity case?
It didn’t matter, she guessed. He was her only hope to proceed in her career.
She signed the clipboard, and showed the security desk manager (because that was apparently Henry Bear’s official title) her state I.D. before he even agreed to pick up the phone to ‘disturb Mr. Carmichael’. She didn’t have to wait very long to get the green light from Henry, and a softly muttered apology. He assured her that, from now on, she would be welcome to go up to Aiden’s apartment whenever she pleased.
She wondered if that was Aiden’s doing? Why he would do that, anyway? She had assumed that a man like Aiden Carmichael would take a bit of pleasure in this kind of power play. He would have all the control in their relationship if she was forced to call upstairs every single time she showed up.
But, apparently, he thought otherwise.
Henry handed her a key card for the Penthouse suite on the top floor and she thanked him, and then moved toward the elevator, once more, which opened before she could even press the button. She was surprised to see that there was no elevator operator inside to swipe the card for her as she stepped inside, though there was a velvet seat and chromatic walls in which she could see her reflection.
Melanie stared into her own eyes as she waited for the doors to open, having somewhat of a staring contest with herself, in which she silently reminded her reflection that she could handle anything. After all, it was she who had raised millions in investments as a Grad student. It was she who had gotten a perfect 4.0 average all throughout college, Grad and Undergrad. It was she who had done all her own research and used the resources that she had set aside for herself all through her schooling, playing on her connections and her own charisma to find the perfect company for her first professional investment. It was she, Melanie Brunswick, who would make a name for herself, even if she had to do it under Aiden Carmichael.
(And, if she were being truly honest with herself, there were far worse ways to start a career than working with somebody like Aiden.)
When the doors opened, she came face-to-face with the man in question, who greeted her with that charming grin of his. “Nice to see you again, Melanie,” he said.
“Likewise, Aiden,” she replied, swallowing thickly.
Aiden gestured for her to enter the penthouse and said, “It should be a brief meeting. Please, do come in and make yourself comfortable. I’m set up at the dining table.”
Melanie walked further into the penthouse, her eyes scanning over the room for the first time (she told herself that it was not because she was distracted by Aiden’s eyes, but rather that she was being professional by keeping prolonged eye contact) and her heart began to pound in her throat. If she had felt intimidated in the lobby, here she suddenly felt like a peasant in a grand palace.
Aiden poured Melanie a glass of water from a bottle of Perrier that had been chilling in a silver ice bucket on the middle of the dining table. Her fingers curled around the glass and she took her first sip. It was good water, but her nerves needed a little something more.
As if reading her mind, Aiden got her attention with a clearing of his throat and held up a bottle of pinot grigio. “For after we’ve finished,” he promised. “But first, tell me what you’ve gotten so far.”
Melanie reached into the bag hanging off one shoulder and tugged out the folder into which she had stuffed every piece of information she could find on Vet Robotics, handing it to Aiden, who set it open on the table top, his eyes scanning the page.
“Tell me,” he said, glancing up at her, “in your own words, what this company’s goal is and why you think that it would be a good investment.”
“Well,” Melanie started, “the founder is a veteran who lost one of his arms fighting overseas, and his goal is to provide prosthetics for other veterans who either don’t qualify for the aid they need to afford such prosthetics or can’t properly function with mechanical prosthetics that most veteran hospitals afford them. I feel that he would be a successful investment because not only does he have an advanced degree in business but, as a veteran, he could pull in a lot of business from his fellow soldiers and servicemen, as well as get donations from those that support the military. He just needs help getting off the ground, but I’ve read over his business plan and it’s brilliant. He’s been working with several engineers to create these prosthetics and they already have several prototypes, but they’re starting to run low on funds with which to work, so your investment could—”
“Our investment,” Aiden corrected, gently.
“Right,” Melanie chuckled. “Our investment could really propel the company further. Probably get it all the way into Forbes territory.”
“You truly believe that?” Aiden asked, but there was a glint in his eyes. He looked…pleased. Almost proud. “Why?”
“Because…it’s important,” Melanie said. “It’s important for these men and women to be able to continue with their daily lives. I mean, after all, they risk their lives so that we can sleep safely; so that we don’t have to worry about anything happening on the home front. This kind of high-tech would make sure that the ones who want to keep serving, to protect us, are able to do just that. The ones that come back from the war are not left handicapped by a war they fought for us. Isn’t that important to you?”
Something flashed across Aiden’s eyes for a microsecond before it was gone and he nodded, solemnly. “Yes,” he said. “I agree completely. But, I feel as if there’s something deeper going on.”
“Like what?”
“You tell me,” Aiden hummed, crossing one leg over the other as he leaned back in his chair, a thoughtful look on his face. “Have you ever known someone who needed a prosthetic, but couldn’t afford one?”
“No,” Melanie replied. “Nobody in my family, at least.”
“But there was somebody outside your family?”
“I don’t need a personal connection to feel that people are deserving of affordable prosthetics, Mr. Carmichael,” Melanie said, defensively.
“Oh, I’m quite aware,” Aiden said, “but there’s a look in your eye…a tremor in your voice. Who was it?” His eyes were full of intelligence, his intuition and curious nature getting the best of Melanie. Finally, she sighed and looked away, the face of an old friend flashing behind her eyelids.
“He was my doorman,” she said. “A kind old man that had fought in Vietnam. He lost one of his legs and walked with a prosthetic, but it…it was too small for him. He was only a kid when he went to war. Not much younger than I am right now. He had grown a bit since then, but he couldn’t afford to size up. He would get blisters standing up all day, holding the door for people that barely gave him a second glance. When I was a little girl, I would get off the private school bus and walk right past him. He learned the names of every person in the building and always asked me how my day was going. My own parents never even asked that, so I would spend fifteen minutes of every day giving him a play-by-play of my classes and teachers and friends and he would tell me about when he was a little boy. Then, one day, I saw him leaning heavily on a cane and I asked him if he’d hurt his leg.” Melanie grinned at the memory and shook her head. “He pulled up his pant leg and told me that it had disappeared!” She laughed. “I was terrified, but he laughed it off and told me that he was just kidding. That was the day he told me about going into the war and about how he had lost his leg during a bombing and couldn’t afford to buy himself good prosthetics. I thought about asking my father to pay for them, but you know him…”
Aiden Carmichael nodded. “He would have done it, though.”
“But not if I asked. It had to come straight from Mr. Gruber, and he was far too proud to ask for anything. He was the kind of person who would rather die of thirst in the middle of the Sahara rather than ask for a sip of water.”
“He sounds like quite the character,” Aiden commented.
“He was,” Melanie said, looking away. “He’s the person I thought of immediately when I found out about this tech company. I know that, like me, there are lot of people who want to support our veterans and even know one that might benefit from something like this. They would definitely want to help in any way that they could, so investing in this company would be the best way to do that.” She stopped, taking a deep breath. “But enough about what I think,” she laughed, scratching the back of her neck. “What about what you think?”
“I think you’re right,” Aiden said.
“Really?” Melanie asked, her eyes widening in surprise. She had no idea that he would agree so quickly, despite knowing that it was obviously a good investment. She had thought she would have to do a little more convincing first. Her chest swelled with hope.
“Yes,” Aiden said. “I’ve actually already made an investment in your name.” He pulled a card out of his pocket and handed it to her. “It’s not a very big amount and not nearly as much as they need,” he reasoned, “but it will get them off the ground.”
Melanie took the card and read the number scrawled across it, her eyes practically falling out of her skull at the six-digit numeral. “Half a million dollars?” she exclaimed. “Really? You—that’s a big investment.”
Aiden scoffed and shook his head. “Not relative to what this company usually spends,” he said, brushing her off. “My last major investment was nearly a billion. This is pocket change compared to that and, as I’ve said, it’s not nearly enough to sustain the company as a whole, but I’ve made some calls on their behalf and you’ll be pleased to know that they’ll be getting more investments in the near future.”
“You really believe in this, then?” Melanie asked, hopefully. Aiden nodded.
“Mostly because of you,” he admitted, “and your passion for the company.”
“But you made the investment before I even—”
“Melanie,” Aiden interrupted, “I know that you wouldn’t have made this decision lightly. You and your father are very much alike in that respect. You do hours upon hours of research until you’ve found exactly what you’re looking for. How can I possibly not trust your judgement?”
He reached for the wine and started to twist off the wrapping.
“Besides,” he went on, walking around his kitchen and reaching into a drawer for a corkscrew, “I’ve had my eye on Vet Robotics for a while.”
“You have?” Melanie asked. “Since when?”
“Since it first popped up on my radar,” Aiden informed her. “Not long ago, but it didn’t exactly have a set business plan yet.” He popped the cork off the wine. “So when you suggested it after doing all that research, I thought it would be the perfect opportunity to seize. And it is.” He reached for two wine glasses, holding them up to her. “Now, shall we celebrate?”
“Do you really think now’s the time for that?” Melanie asked, suddenly feeling very nervous. “Don’t we have any paperwork that needs to be signed or something? I mean, you made the investment in my name, but I didn’t exactly consent to—”
“Relax, Miss Brunswick,” Aiden chuckled. “The forms that you need to sign will be on your desk in the morning.”
“My desk?” Melanie asked, furrowing her brow.
“Yes, well, you didn’t think I’d have you work from here, did you?” Aiden chuckled. “That wouldn’t be very professional, wouldn’t you agree?” He gave her his most charming grin. “Yes, you’ll have your own desk at the company now. All new associates get one after they’ve made their first investment. But first, let us talk strategy.” He handed her a glass of wine and motioned for her to follow him into the sitting room, where the furniture looked all too inviting, even for her to think about saying no.
Melanie took a sip of her wine and breathed deeply, following him to the couch with her folder tucked tightly under her arm. Aiden Carmichael’s hand burned through the fabric of her blouse at her shoulder, but she was enjoying it far too much to shrug him off.
She took another sip of wine.
*****