Silva and the Stars

18 | it's yours

We're losing this.

We've been arguing for eight hours and we're still losing.

Connor has spent our honeymoon convincing the board. I can see the money signs in their eyes, the greed in their impatient tones. 

But not all, combined we have at least 48%. The ones on our side are smart enough to know what Connor will do to this company. Hence the stalemate. 

But we're still losing.

We need a majority.

Rachel is standing brazen and bold at the head of the boardroom table, going through graphs and projections like the sexy statistician she is. Watching her I'm overwhelmed by pride and guilt. I have the keys to the kingdom burning a hole in my pocket.

When she finishes her argument she looks across at me and I nod. I'm the only male in this room that can read the nuance in her expression. To them she looks assured, fucking confident. To me, she is wavering, pushed to the limits of her control. She thinks we've lost, but she is holding strong until the very end.

I can't do this to her.

I can't let her lose another thing precious to her.

I realise that this is what I've been refusing to see all along. When Rachel had uttered her fears about losing everyone, that included this company. Losing it would shatter her. It would destroy her last connection to her father, to the colleagues she's worked alongside, to the clients she has spent the last eight hours fighting for.

Where Connor would like to throw aside long term clients to go after more lucrative, questionable deals, Rachel has remained steadfast in protecting those that have vested interests in our company, who trust us. Trust her.

I know what I have to do.

I stand up and everyone falls silent, looking expectantly toward me.

"Let's take a five-minute break," I tell them, "and when we reconvene we'll have a vote to determine which five year plan to pursue – Connor's or Rachel and I's."

There's murmured agreement and I rush out of the room, striding toward my office at the end of the hall. I can do this. I can do this. I need to do this for her.

Rachel catches up to me at my door. "Jon," she says, her voice stopping me. "Why did you say that? If they vote now, they will give Connor control."

I turn around to face her. Her red coat brings out the rosiness in her lips. Her black hair falls in soft waves around her face. Her brown skin is maddeningly beautiful. 

"I need a moment. I can't talk right now."

She looks hurt as if I'm betraying her at the last moment. If this is her reaction right now, I can't fathom what she'll say when she discovers what I've been hiding from her.

"I see," she responds slowly as if my denial has knocked the wind out of her.

"Just one thing, can I borrow your phone?" 

I need something to record the voicemails on my phone. My father left so many that I need to find the relevant ones. The ones with his diagnosis, the ones where he admitted how Connor manipulated him.

Not the ones where he atones for his mistakes, where he reveals his indiscretions, where he tells me he loves me one last time. I don't want to accidentally delete them either. It will be safer to have a second recording of them, just in case.

Rachel is nodding, opening the little red clasp she's carrying with her and giving me her phone. "The password is 1234," she tells me.

I can't smother the grin that quirks my mouth. I raise my eyebrows. "Really?"