Beckett follow the maître d’hôtel through a bustling bar for a late-night drink with a friend. The spacious room mirrors the décor reminiscent of oldfashioned British gentlemen’s clubs, a close resemblance to the wellappointed style of one of my favorite hangouts in LA—The Study, the private gentlemen’s club annexed to the Quintus Hotel. A tall, elegant man stands up as I approach, a broad smile stretching his lips. We greet each other with a bro hug. “Beckett Christensen,” he says, st epping away from me. “Prince Easton,” I say. “It’s Easton. Brielle isn’t my wife yet, so I’m still a commoner.” He laughs. “Speaking of the stunning beauty, how is she?” “Perfect in every sense of the word.” “I can’t believe you’re off the market.” And I still can’t believe your fiancée is a bona fide princess with royal blood running through her veins. “I’m in love.” I swear his eyes twinkle. He’s pussy whipped. It seems to be a contagious disease running rampant in my circle these days. Lucky for me, I’m immune. “I was never a bad boy like you, Christensen. I’m a finance geek who got really lucky.” Geek? He means, genius. “I can’t believe you’re going to be a bona fide prince,” I say. “Once it’s official, do we have to bow in your presence, Your Grace?” “I’ll expect nothing less,” he says. “Don’t hold your breath, Winchester.” We both laugh. “Sit down,” he says. A waitress approaches. Easton suggests the cheese and charcuterie platter, an assortment of croquettes, and the meatball flatbread as appetizers. I don’t argue. We both opt for top shelf vodka on ice as a drink. The waitress scurries off. I scour the room before meeting his gaze. “This is a cool hangout.” “Bygone is where I meet friends. I ke ep the more overrated Manhattan establishments for clients and prospects.” “Glad to see I’m still on your good list,” I say. We first met at a conference in San Francisco. He knew who I was before I introduced myself. Turns out, he’s a huge fan. Many moons ago, I was a rock god and lead singer of one of the bigger rock bands of our time. As an angel investor, Easton is a billionaire many times over. He has a flair for buying and selling companies at the right time. He took an interest in our company early on. Over the years, I’ve relied on his expertise. “Always,” he says. “So, how was your stay in New York?” After last week’s craziness, I couldn’t wait to get out of LA fast enough. My time in the Big Apple helped me regain my equilibrium. My sexy little stuck-up roomie is no longer on my mind. Bonus, Zelda is in my rearview mirror. I’m not sure how the conversation with his daughter started, but the pastor ate his words and shut the hell up about suing me after #Backdoor Zelda exploded on social media, causing an embarrassing number of men to share their stories. “Ten whirlwind days, but they were productive,” I say. “Good,” he says. “How’s life as a CEO treating you?” “Hectic. Demanding. Stressful. Relentless at times. But it’s also humbling and
incredibly rewarding. It’s more than I signed up for, but I wouldn’t give it up for the world.” “From singer to kickass executive, who would’ve thought?” Easton says, not for the first time. I’m about to shoot off a smart r epartee, but the waitress is back with our drinks and food. With a nod, we thank her. “The American dream... anything is possible,” I say once she’s gone. “I’ll drink to that,” Easton says, lifting his tumbler. I mimic him and we clink our glasses. For the next few minutes, we enjoy exc eptional food and sip on smooth as velvet vodka. “Wow,” I say, pointing at my plate after taking another bite. “I know. This place is a gem.” “Although this is your hangout, I hope you don’t mind if we talk business?” “I’m willing to make an exc eption for you, Christensen.” “I’m special?” “You are,” he says with a laugh. “Seriously, you had a lot of questions and since you were going to be in town, meeting in person made more sense.” “Thanks. I appreciate it.” “You’re a CFO short?” “Two, actually.” He knits his eyebrows. “What am I missing?” “Our CFO has been on maternity leave for two weeks now. We went through an executive agency to hire an interim, but the day before she was due to start, the agency called to let us know her son was rushed to ICU after a bad car accident. Eleven days later, he’s still in a coma.” “I’m sorry to hear that,” Easton says. “It’s a tragedy. Understandably, she st epped down before she even started.” “So now, you’re looking for a r eplacement?” “Yes and no.” Easton frowns. “How can it be both?” “The executive agency went into action to find us another CFO, but Rhys, who was at a conference in Dallas while I was in Vegas, made suggestions that prompted us to put everything on hold.” “Conferences spark new ideas that can set a company on a lucrative path. What kind of suggestions?” “We’re flying high, so the idea of selling the company is off the table. Rhys suggested we hire a merger and acquisition expert for a thorough fitness assessment,” I say. “What if we’re leaving millions of dollars on the table, but we’re unaware of it? We want to know so we can fix the issues and boost profits.” “Forward thinking. Great idea.” “I’m glad we’re on the same page,” I say. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but a CFO has a different mission than a consultant whose main objective is to shape a company for a potential buyout or an IPO.” “You’re right,” Easton says. “Our closest competitor sold their company to a computer giant for over three billion dollars— “Since then, sales have doubled with no signs of slowing down.” “No one else in the marketplace has a buzz-worthy brand like theirs... other than us.” I ste eple my fingers together. “We want to dominate the market.”
Easton nods. With his eyes still trained on mine, he grabs his tumbler and takes a long swig of his drink. I do the same. I drop my tumbler on the table. “We don’t measure up?” “Your company is worth well over three billion dollars, Beckett.” I like the way this conversation is going. “The superior bass on your headphones trumps the competition. No one comes close. I wouldn’t dream of listening to music on anything else since I discovered your headphones.” “That’s a huge compliment coming from a guy like you.” “It’s the truth,” he says. “You have a solid brand, a former rock star status—hence, instant name recognition—and a product customers gobble up—even though it’s a luxury item far from being within everyone’s reach. I’d say your company is worth five billion dollars. With the right consultant, that number could skyrocket to six or seven billion.” Whoa. The news hits me like a slug to the chest, forcing my back against my seat. Rhys and I figured we could get a little over two billion, making us instant billionaires, but this blows my mind. “Seven billion dollars?” I make sure I heard him right. Easton nods. “Seven billion dollars.” I flinch. “Wow.” “I have a contact who’s far more than a mere consultant,” he says. “She’s a magician.” I rub my hands with excitement. “I’m all ears.” “Have you ever heard of Glach Tech?” “No.” Easton pulls out his phone and does a quick search before handing me his device. I scroll through Glach Tech’s product catalog. “Still doesn’t ring a bell.” I hand him back his phone. “Amassing funding through a crowdfunding campaign is an art. Many try, few succeed. Of those who get traction, not all reach their campaign goal because it takes extraordinary vision and a solid plan. It also takes a kickass and aggressive social media campaign. You need all the pieces to work together. One weak link could spell failure.” “I assume Glach Tech is the exc eption.” “Glach Tech pulled a hattrick.” He places his elbow on the table and flashes me three fingers. “Three massively successful crowdfunding campaigns, each amassing several millions of dollars. They went from an insignificant company with fledging sales to a market leader in five years.” “I gather you know who orchestrated those campaigns?” “After their first noteworthy campaign, I did some digging. I also had my intelligence team poke around. Turns out, it wasn’t a consultant who masterminded Glach Tech’s rise to success. It was an employee. She was a young woman at the time, right out of college—” “You want me to poach one of their employees?” “She no longer works for them,” Easton says. “Is she working for another company?” He shakes his head. He’s piqued my interest. “I’m surprised she isn’t one of your consultants.” “When she was still working for Glach Tech, she made it clear her allegiance was with them—which I respected. We stayed in touch. I was fascinated by her brilliance. Then two years ago, out of the blue, she contacted me. She needed to get as far away from Silicon Valley as
possible.” “Sounds like there’s a story there.” “It’s not mine to tell,” Easton says. “Fair enough.” “When she came to me, I was considering investing in a number of tech companies across Europe. I bought her a first-class ticket to Stockholm. From there, she hopped around Europe, working for me and other angel investors.” “You’re saying she knows her stuff.” “She was instrumental in helping me avoid money pits,” Easton says. “Is she still in Europe?” “After a couple years away, Arianne decided it was time to come back stateside.” This sounds promising. “As we speak, she’s talking to a few companies for possible consulting work, but I’m not sure if she settled on anything yet.” “Arianne,” I nod. “Pretty name.” “Don’t let the softness of her name fool you. She’s tough as nails, sharp as a whip, and she doesn’t take bullshit from clients. She tells it like it is, so you don’t waste time or money.” “All good things,” I say. “I’m excited.” “You should be. She started her undergrad degree at seventeen—” “That’s young.” “Yeah, she’s super smart. She has an analytical mind like I’ve never seen before. If you look up ‘sexy brain’ on Google, her photo appears.” I laugh. “After completing an honors bachelor of business finance degree, she graduated at the top of her class at the tender age of twenty-three with an MBA/CFA degree. The CFA is one of the hardest degrees to earn. The pr ep work is punishing. The failure rate is extremely high, yet Arianne nailed it on the first try while finishing her MBA.” “I manage to finish high school,” I say. “I’ve never met anyone with the ability to reshape a company like her.” “Wow.” “Earlier this year, Glach Tech was bought out for a ridiculous sum, making the CEO an extraordinarily rich man. Without the crowdfunding hattrick and Arianne’s foresight, they would never have sold for that kind of money. She single-handedly brought back the company from the dead—” “I’m sold.” His brows lift to his forehead. “Without even meeting her and without talking to your business partner?” “It takes a lot to impress you, Easton,” I say. “You only have accolades for this woman. Her only fault might be she can’t walk on water.” He laughs. “She’s a free agent?” He nods. “I want her.” “I can make the introductions.” “Is she in New York?” “It’s your lucky day, Christensen. She just moved to Los Angeles.”