he snapped.
“It looks as if we're stuck with each other for the time being, so
the sooner we get started the sooner we can finish.”
Shut inside the small interiors of his office
with only herself and an overbearing and unpleasant Dexter
O‘Reilly, suddenly had Laura feeling utterly vulnerable.
Unconsciously, she lifted her chin defiantly. “Listen, I think
there's been a mishap—”
“Virgil doesn't deal with this portion of the
business. That's my usual post.” he rudely interrupted. “I wasn't
sure how this meeting got messed up and landed on his desk. But now
that I realize it was you—”
“I didn't set up this meeting with you on
purpose. As a matter-of-fact, it's Mr. Britten I would rather see,
so if you wouldn't mind—”
“Believe me, I wouldn't like anything more.
However, as running businesses go he does a grand job, but for
investing his company’s money, he's lousy.” He dropped his large
weight in the swivel chair behind his desk. “So sit down and let's
get this over with, shall we?”
She frowned at his curt manner. Yes, it most
definitely was what she remembered most about Dexter O'Reilly.
Sighing heavily, she dropped her own weight
into the wide cushioned chair opposite him. Folding her hands over
her lap, she suddenly had an attack of nerves. Asking for money
from all those other faceless companies had been comparatively
simple when confronted with the possibility of closing down her
shelter. Yet sitting here across from Dexter, preparing to do just
that, was the hardest thing she ever had to face.
“I need some money.” She felt direct approach
was best, but immediately hated the way the words spilling from her
mouth sounded. “I mean, I need your company to invest in me—in my
organization. It's just small and fairly new, but I desperately
need the backing or I'm afraid I'm going to have to close my doors.
Permanently.”
He frowned as he listened to her skittish
splutter of words. “And what exactly is this organization?”
Laura knew this was when the look of interest
on their faces turned to disinterest, and swallowed hard. “A
homeless shelter for teenage girls.”
He fixed her with an unyielding frown, then
scraped back his chair and got to his feet. “I hardly think
so.”
“That's it? You won't even hear me out?”
“I don't need to hear anymore. We are an
investment and financial group. Where is the return in this? The
profit? There is none. It would be foolish to put money into
something that guarantee's absolutely nothing in return. We don’t
invest in charities.”
Her eyes grew angry as she stared up at him,
then proceeded to get to her own feet. “Not everything in this
world is marked by dollar signs. There are other things to
consider, like the lives of these young adolescents—”
“They don't concern us—”
“You mean they don't concern you! How stupid
of me to forget what a pompous cold-hearted individual you are. Not
everything has a price tag above its head Dexter, and not
everything is guaranteed.”
“In the world of business that's exactly what
you deal with. If you don't like the rules, don't play the
game.”
“Is that how you see these young people? As
pawns in a game? They have names, faces, they are flesh and blood
who feel hunger and pain.” Her gaze grew hard. “Just like you
Dexter, they are human.”
His cold gaze held hers, and then with a jerk
he turned away. “I can’t help you. You’ve come to the wrong
place.”
She felt a startling pang of hurt, knowing
instinctively, it had nothing to do with the shelter but with this
heartless man instead. Closing her eyes from the affliction he
conjured, she turned away.
At the door, he unexpectedly stopped her.
“Look, Laura, we’re looking to expand our high-tech portfolio. If
you had a new software program that needed financial backing, maybe
then—”
“But I don't. I have a homeless shelter full
of teens needing to be fed and kept warm this winter. A
“It looks as if we're stuck with each other for the time being, so
the sooner we get started the sooner we can finish.”
Shut inside the small interiors of his office
with only herself and an overbearing and unpleasant Dexter
O‘Reilly, suddenly had Laura feeling utterly vulnerable.
Unconsciously, she lifted her chin defiantly. “Listen, I think
there's been a mishap—”
“Virgil doesn't deal with this portion of the
business. That's my usual post.” he rudely interrupted. “I wasn't
sure how this meeting got messed up and landed on his desk. But now
that I realize it was you—”
“I didn't set up this meeting with you on
purpose. As a matter-of-fact, it's Mr. Britten I would rather see,
so if you wouldn't mind—”
“Believe me, I wouldn't like anything more.
However, as running businesses go he does a grand job, but for
investing his company’s money, he's lousy.” He dropped his large
weight in the swivel chair behind his desk. “So sit down and let's
get this over with, shall we?”
She frowned at his curt manner. Yes, it most
definitely was what she remembered most about Dexter O'Reilly.
Sighing heavily, she dropped her own weight
into the wide cushioned chair opposite him. Folding her hands over
her lap, she suddenly had an attack of nerves. Asking for money
from all those other faceless companies had been comparatively
simple when confronted with the possibility of closing down her
shelter. Yet sitting here across from Dexter, preparing to do just
that, was the hardest thing she ever had to face.
“I need some money.” She felt direct approach
was best, but immediately hated the way the words spilling from her
mouth sounded. “I mean, I need your company to invest in me—in my
organization. It's just small and fairly new, but I desperately
need the backing or I'm afraid I'm going to have to close my doors.
Permanently.”
He frowned as he listened to her skittish
splutter of words. “And what exactly is this organization?”
Laura knew this was when the look of interest
on their faces turned to disinterest, and swallowed hard. “A
homeless shelter for teenage girls.”
He fixed her with an unyielding frown, then
scraped back his chair and got to his feet. “I hardly think
so.”
“That's it? You won't even hear me out?”
“I don't need to hear anymore. We are an
investment and financial group. Where is the return in this? The
profit? There is none. It would be foolish to put money into
something that guarantee's absolutely nothing in return. We don’t
invest in charities.”
Her eyes grew angry as she stared up at him,
then proceeded to get to her own feet. “Not everything in this
world is marked by dollar signs. There are other things to
consider, like the lives of these young adolescents—”
“They don't concern us—”
“You mean they don't concern you! How stupid
of me to forget what a pompous cold-hearted individual you are. Not
everything has a price tag above its head Dexter, and not
everything is guaranteed.”
“In the world of business that's exactly what
you deal with. If you don't like the rules, don't play the
game.”
“Is that how you see these young people? As
pawns in a game? They have names, faces, they are flesh and blood
who feel hunger and pain.” Her gaze grew hard. “Just like you
Dexter, they are human.”
His cold gaze held hers, and then with a jerk
he turned away. “I can’t help you. You’ve come to the wrong
place.”
She felt a startling pang of hurt, knowing
instinctively, it had nothing to do with the shelter but with this
heartless man instead. Closing her eyes from the affliction he
conjured, she turned away.
At the door, he unexpectedly stopped her.
“Look, Laura, we’re looking to expand our high-tech portfolio. If
you had a new software program that needed financial backing, maybe
then—”
“But I don't. I have a homeless shelter full
of teens needing to be fed and kept warm this winter. A
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