"Lifting weights again, I see?"

A familiar voice snaps my mind to the present, and lifts the fog from my thoughts. It's amazing what kind of clarity you can get when you're not alone with your thoughts. I look up and see Andrew standing in the doorway. He has his arms crossed over his broad shoulders and is leaning against the frame of the door. He's still wearing a pair of aviator sunglasses over his eyes from being outside, and he reminds me of a Tom Cruise circa Top Gun.

"Just blowing off some steam," I say.

"Well, I may have the solution to your problems," Andrew smiles, removing his glasses now. I watch as he folds them and hangs them off of his shirt pocket.

"Fat chance," I say, shaking my head. "I'm now in shit deeper than the Grand Canyon, and I don't see a way out of this fucking mess."

Andrew narrows his eyes at me. "Since when did you become such a pessimist?"

"Since I found myself falling for a viper disguised as a vixen," I say, and just as quickly as I say it, I wish I hadn't. I honestly don't want to talk about her right now … especially not with Andrew.

Just thinking about Athena causes me to pick up my weights again. I grab a barbell in each hand and begin lifting to stem the flood of anger that is threatening to surge back into my blood stream.

Andrew eyes me up and down before proceeding. "Look, before you get yourself worked up over some woman and fall off the deep end—which is uncharacteristic of you by the way—there's a mystery investor, and this person wants in."

I stop curling and look him in the eyes. "What do you mean?"

"I mean that we have a solution!" he says, throwing his arms up as if I'm not listening. "Don't you see? This investor is willing to put in enough capital to solve all of your problems."

"All of my problems?" I say, and the crease forming across my forehead says I'm skeptical.

"Look, I can't speak for your lady troubles, but this empire of yours," he says, spinning around the room and pointing at all four walls of my office, "will be saved. And that's been the goal from the beginning, right?"

He does have a point. I need to forget about Athena. The whole reason I met her in the first place was to save my company, and the people in it. I thought the '100 Days' contest was going to be easy, and it was … until I met Athena.

"So, what now?" I say. "Where do we go from here?"

"I'll be honest with you," Andrew says, his tone growing serious, "the margins will be razor thin. But with a few good trades, you'll be back in business and at the top in no time.”

“Who’s the investor?” I ask sharply. Who would swoop in now? “Why don’t they just wait till after the company is bankrupt.”

“All we can piece together is that they want to be a silent investor and they believe in you as an investor,” he says to me.

"Maybe," I mumble.

Andrew folds his arms across his chest. "Maybe? Did you just say maybe? Where's your fire? Where's your confidence? C'mon Malcolm. You're good—almost too good. You make Wall Street tremble—you've always made grown men quake beneath their silk ties. You need to take this bull by the horns!"

I shrug. "I guess."

"Unbelievable. I'm standing here telling you that we have an investor—a solution—and I get the sense that you're not happy."

"No, it's great … really, it is," I say. I put the weights down and take a seat behind my desk. I sink into the leather and tilt my head back, looking up at the ceiling.

"Why do I not believe you?"

Andrew's my best friend. He's always had my back, and he's like a fucking brother to me, but I'm not in the mood for his poking and prodding.

"Jut let it go—it's fine," I say, swiveling in my chair.

Andrew shakes his head. "That's where you're wrong. Your fire is gone, man. I'm just hoping there's a few embers left that we can fan and turn into flames again."

"That's fucking dramatic."

"Just man up and tell me what's wrong," Andrew says.

I decide that now's as good a time as any to pull out the bottle of whiskey that I keep stashed in my desk drawer. "Want a glass?"

"Fill 'er up," Andrew says.

I pour two ribbons of the amber liquid, one in each glass, and slide one over to Andrew. I take a gulp, allowing the liquor to burn a fiery trail into the pit of my stomach.

"I think Ben Danvers is up to something."

Andrew laughs. "Nothing new there. When is that bastard not up to something?"

I shake my head. "No, I mean, I think Ben is plotting against me … with Athena."

Andrew releases a shrill whistle between his lips. "Well, now. That changes things. What exactly do you think is going on?"

"It's not worth talking about," I say, shaking my head. "It's a non-issue now that we have an investor."

"It is an issue … if you love Athena."

When Andrews says the word 'love' I feel a sharp stab in my chest. I pour myself another glass of whiskey, and drink it, trying to dull the pain I feel.

If this is what love feels like—a stabbing, sinking, aching feeling—I never want to fall in love again.

Not now.

Not ever.

Andrew eyes me critically, and he instinctively knows there's more I'm not telling him, but he has the sense enough to not prod me any further.

"Let me just remind you of something," he says. "You got this far—to this corner office at the top of this fucking skyscraper in the middle of this glorious city, by being one thing."

"What's that?"

"By being a risk taker, man."

As soon as Andrew says this, I know he's right.

That's it.

I need to take risks.

The question is: How much risk am I willing to assume?