Richard Blackwood's office had a large-looking leather chair that had always intimidated weaker employees, but I'd lost fear of much of everything a long time ago. The sound of my boss tapping his well-clipped fingers against the mahogany surface of his desk, though, had my stomach knot up with nervousness.
"Katherine," he started, his voice laced with one of those particular tones that meant my peaceful world would shortly come crashing down. "We need to talk."
I adjusted my black pencil skirt and looked him straight in the eye. Six years of climbing the corporate ladder at Premier Financial had drilled into me the importance of never appearing weak, certainly not in this glass tower overlooking the Manhattan financial district.
" Of course, Richard. How may I help you?"
He sat back; his gauging gray eyes fixed on me. "How much do you desire this top-level management job?"
My heart skipped. The promotion I had worked for three years – the one that would finally provide me with the pay and security to secure the future of Elliot. "You know how badly."
"Good." He slid a manila file across the desk. "Because I've got a mission that's going to make your career or break it."
I opened the folder, and I took a gulp. Anthony Marvin. The man, even in a simple headshot, was devastating – prominent cheekbones, dark hair, green eyes that seemed to pierce through the photograph. But it wasn't the face that got my heart racing; it was his reputation.
"You want me to go to Anthony Marvin for an account." It was not a question.
"Not any ordinary account, Katherine. If we can secure Marvin Industries as a client, we are talking about a $50 million portfolio. Hotels, nightclubs, real estate investments – all of it running through Premier Financial."
I kept a steady face even as my mind raced. Anthony Marvin was not just rich; he was ruthless. Rumors circulated in the city about the Marvin family, spoken of in the same breath as words like "mafia" and "untouchable."
"And if I don't secure the account?"
Richard's smile narrowed like a blade. "Then I'm afraid the top management spot will fall into the hands of someone able to deliver results. Someone like Davidson."
Marcus Davidson. That smug, silver-spooned ass who'd never worked a day for anything in his life. The thought of him taking the promotion that should be mine, that I needed, made my chest burn with fury.
"I see." I closed the folder, my fingers surprisingly steady despite the earthquake raging within me. "When do you need an answer?"
"You need to get a meeting with Marvin this Friday. If you cannot even get him into the room, how am I going to believe you with our biggest clients?"
Friday. Three days. I imagined Elliot hunkered down over our mini Brooklyn apartment computer, composing another scholarship essay. My gifted baby brother, who had every chance I could provide heading his direction, had been accepted into Columbia's engineering school but required financial support for his last two years.
"Consider it done," I said to him.
Richard's eyebrows rose. "Like that? No questions as to methods or procedure?"
"You pay me for results, not to walk me through the steps." I stood up, folder held out, exuding confidence I wasn't all that certain I possessed. "Anthony Marvin will be facing us by the end of the week."
"Katherine." Richard's tone stopped me in my tracks. "Be careful. Marvin's not like the other clients. He does not play by the book."
I looked back, giving myself a small smile. "And neither do I."
The elevator ride down the forty-three floors took long enough for reality to wash over me like a cold wave. What the fuck had I just signed up for? Anthony Marvin owned half of Manhattan's nightlife and God only knows what else. Guys like him didn't take meetings with mid-level investment bankers, despite their good record.
My phone vibrated as I stepped out into the crowded sidewalk. A text from my baby brother Elliot:
*Got the financial aid letter. Can we talk tonight?*
My chest constricted. The timing could not possibly be worse – or better, depending on how I wished to put it. If the financial aid wasn't convincing enough, I would require the promotion even more.
I waved down a cab, my thoughts already spinning schemes. Susan would assume I had lost my mind. I had been cautioned by my best friend for years that one day my ambitions would get me into a situation I wasn't strong enough to handle. Susan just didn't get how it felt to be responsible for someone else's dreams and aspirations.
The cab lurched through the traffic, and I stared out over the glittering city that had shaped me from a self-conscious college graduate into the woman I am today. I'd remade myself once before – lost sixty pounds, learned how to dress as though I belonged in boardrooms, and discovered the kind of confidence men like Richard Blackwood took notice of.
To reach Anthony Marvin, however, would require an entirely different sort of change.
My phone rang. "Katherine Blaire," I answered.
"Ms. Blaire? This is Janet speaking from the Columbia University Financial Aid Office. I am calling regarding your brother's application."
My heart sank. "Yes?"
"Unfortunately, the additional funds he had applied for were denied. The committee felt his initial package of support was sufficient for someone of his condition."
Adequate. For a young man with autism who needed specialized resources and support. For someone whose sister was already stretching every dollar to keep him in school.
"I understand. Thank you for letting us know."
I hung up and closed my eyes. The weight of responsibility fell on my shoulders like an old, familiar cloak. Elliot needed me. He had always needed me since the car accident that killed our parents when he was fourteen. I had been twenty-two, not very much older than a child myself, but I had made a vow.
The cab pulled up in front of my apartment building, and I stared up at the plain brick face that held all I cared for. Up there, my brother was probably considering backup plans and scholarship contingencies, his super-intelligent mind running through complexities as he always did.
But I possessed a different set of problem-solving abilities.
I grabbed the manila folder and stared once again at the photo of Anthony Marvin. His green eyes dared me, as though he could look through the photo into the spot where I had been sitting and scheming my approach.
"You want to play in the big league, Katherine?" I whispered to myself, the words blown away by the Manhattan breeze. "Then it's time to learn the rules."
I got out of the cab and gazed up at the sparkling skyline where men like Anthony Marvin built their kingdoms. Out of one of those towering glass and steel towers, one day my future would come. I just had to get into the lion's den and convince the most dangerous man in New York City to place his money into my hands. What's the worst that could happen?