And given that Scott had stolen glances at my lips at least four times since I’d walked in, told me it was on his mind too.
He chuckled. “No. It’s because I never know where I’ll be. I’m in and out of meetings with firms I have deals with. Some days I might choose to work out of their office but if I do that, it’s mostly so I could scope the place out.”
“What do you scope for?”
“The staff. The management. Get a feel for what they spend time on. What their focus is. And what they envision as a future state.”
“And you do all that…alone?”
“No sidekick for this superhero.” He smirked.
“Is it because you don’t think you need anyone to be a fully functional operation?” I asked, only part joking.
“It’s because I know I don’t. But I also don’t trust anyone—or rather, very few I should say, when it comes to consulting on how I operate my business. And those I do, again in the very low—single digits, already have an empire of their own.”
I nodded absently at his words. Something triggered an article I’d read about him that first night I met him and needed to know everything about exactly who I was dealing with.
I hesitated, then after a long sip, decided to say exactly what was on my mind. “So, I’m not going to deny looking you up on the internet, especially when you so graciously introduced yourself as though you won the most recent Oscar.”
Scott’s head cocked to the side as he watched me, looking part intrigued and part guarded.
I wavered, and then decided to follow through. “You tend to have pretty high expectations; especially when it comes to downsizing. There was also someone who quoted you saying ‘the risks we take with the working class’.” I raised an eyebrow at him, not bothering to hide my judgment at such a statement.
“You read that on the internet?”
“I might be paraphrasing,” I pursed my lips.
“From what?” he seemed genuinely horrified as he whipped out his phone.
I put my hand over Scott’s and his eyes immediately shot to mine.“Look it up later. What I’m saying is that your expectations might be a little too demanding. You want people to know that you try to work with them, not disintegrate their core values.”
“Which is?” He pocketed his phone.
“Their employees,” I answered softly. “This may not be a reality to you or Donovan Hayes, but eighty percent of entrepreneursvaluetheir staff. To walk into a business and tell themthey’rethe problem…might send the wrong message.” There was no biting my tongue on this one. I meant every word here and he needed to hear it.
Scott inhaled deeply through his nose and leaned back, seemingly frustrated. “I suppose that was just more paraphrasing?”
I sensed a drastic change in his mood and second guessed my response, which was somewhere along the lines of,no, that was all me.
But it seemed he’d already guessed as much considering what he did next.
Scott checked his watch and raised a brow. “Looks like you could still make your one o’clock in plenty of time.” He motioned to the bartender and stood. Looking back at me, he said, “Thank you for meeting me today, Isabel. It was a pleasure seeing you again.” His tone was formal, distant, one I had yet to hear.
And one that was telling me everything I needed to hear to know this was ending.
The bartender returned with a card and a slip. Scott pulled out a pen from his inside pocket and signed it, nodding once at the other man.
My mouth dropped but couldn’t settle on any combination of words. Had I meant to apologize? Did I even want to? My mind ran wild with an infinite inner debate as I watched the man try and flee from me.
After running through a short list of possible triggers of what set him off, I decided it didn’t matter anyway. I needed to stop playing the role of someone whowouldknow what they were talking about when it came to business.
I let my mouth run away with me again. Because the truth was, I was speaking as someone from the outside, as a representative of this “working class” and if I were being honest, I knew his methods were wrong, or just needed some work.
Still, I’d basically called the man immoral and I needed to saysomething.
“Scott, I—”
“I’m sure we’ll be seeing each other again soon,” he interjected, with barely another look in my direction, before grabbing his jacket and taking off.
