Chapter Thirteen

ANA WAS NERVOUS.

She couldn’t remember the last time she was nervous, certainly not over business. Anxious, maybe; annoyed, frequently . . . but nervous was a new and entirely different sensation for her.

Which made no sense. Over the last several days, she and Bryan had spent hours on the phone and their laptops, fine-tuning the details, making sure they were prepared for every single eventuality. And she couldn’t help but admit that he had a good handle on the presentation. He was smart —far more intelligent than she’d once given him credit for —and he was passionate. But she had still helped shape the pitch, tailoring it to what she knew of Adrian. It was one thing to stake her own career on her instincts. It was another to hinge Bryan’s second chance on them.

Please, Jesus, make this go well. Don’t let me let Bryan down.

She exhaled the prayer, pushed down her doubts, and sifted through her expansive closet, choosing and discarding half a dozen outfits before she settled on her go-to power combination again: black suit, red blouse, black pumps. It never steered her wrong, and she needed the confidence that came from a bold color and five-inch heels. Maybe it hadn’t done her any good the day she’d been fired —put on leave —but no outfit in the world could have changed the direction of that fiasco.

Made-up, adorned with her solitaire necklace and her favorite diamond stud earrings, she grabbed her tote bag containing her laptop, notes, and a hard copy of Bryan’s presentation and made her way down to her car. Ten minutes later, she was pulling into the drive of the Shaws’ 1920s Capitol Hill mansion. He might not like living at home, but in a house this size, she’d bet he barely saw his parents.

He must have been looking for her, because before she could even get out of the car, the front door opened and Bryan emerged. She did a double-take, her stomach doing an odd little leap. She’d legitimately never seen him in anything dressier than jeans and a sweater, and the other night at the club had been the first time she’d realized he owned anything more formal than T-shirts.

Which was why she barely recognized the man coming toward her car, clean-shaven, the ponytail gone. He’d covered his trim physique in a stylish slim-cut suit in a dark pinstripe and paired it with a not-quite-conservative tie. When he pulled open the car door and climbed into the passenger seat, she got a glimpse of baby-blue socks decorated with scarf-wearing llamas above his dress shoes. Basically, about as on-trend for the millennial businessman as you could get.

“What?” he asked, noticing her attention. “Do I look okay? Should I have worn something else?”

“No,” she finally managed. “You look fine. Good, I mean.”

He smoothed down his tie and let out a breath, and she realized he was as nervous as she was. “Thanks. If you hadn’t guessed, I don’t have much use for suits. I had to go shopping.”

“The horror,” Ana quipped, and she caught his smile out of the corner of her eye as she started down the other side of the circular drive. “If it’s any consolation, you look perfect for this meeting. And you wear the suit well; it doesn’t wear you.”

“I’m not sure I understand what that means.”

“You can put some guys in a suit, but they never carry themselves in a way that makes you believe they belong in it.”

“Must have been all the practice I put in with my parents’ galas. I’ve been wearing a tux since I was nine.”

“And you hated it?”

“Not really.” He settled back into the seat. “Mostly I hated having to be on my best behavior. The tuxedo was just details.”

Ana laughed. “You may know this since Adrian is your friend —”

“Acquaintance.”

Ana dipped her head. “Acquaintance. But he’s something of an aspiring mountaineer.”

“Oh yeah?”

“He’s two peaks away from climbing all the fourteeners in Colorado. I found an interview with him in a local paper.”

“That’s hiking, not climbing,” Bryan said automatically. When she shot him a look, he conceded, “But it is a point of common interest. I get it.”

“He is also on the board of a charity that helps kids coming out of juvenile detention develop life and job skills.”

Now she could hear a grudging bit of admiration in Bryan’s voice. “He’s not just a money-hungry suit, you’re telling me?”

“I’m saying there’s something about this idea that will resonate with him and how he sees himself. Play to that, don’t say anything stupid, and I think we’ve got this in the bag.”

“You know, Ana, I’m not completely socially inept.”

She flushed. “I know you aren’t. But you have the habit of speaking your mind, and I just wanted to remind you —”

“That this is not that time. Gotcha.” He reached for her and squeezed her forearm quickly. “Don’t worry. We’ve got this. I think you might be more nervous than I am.”

“I think you’re right. I feel responsible for this meeting, so I really want it to work out.”

“Whether or not it does, I’m grateful for your help. Truly.”

She braked at a stoplight and glanced over at him. He was looking at her in a way that made something hard in her middle melt: gratitude and something else she couldn’t name. Didn’t want to name. Now was not the time to think about this. Now was the time to think about business. Game face on.

They reached Adrian’s Lower Downtown office building in record time, and Ana pulled into the parking structure beneath the offices. They climbed out, and Ana smoothed her suit, letting out a long, steadying breath. “Now or never.”

Bryan nudged her with his elbow. “C’mon. Let’s do this.”

Adrian’s firm, Compeer Capital, was located on the eighth floor of the building, a rigidly professional office with a large glass door and decor bordering on stuffy. All except the art, which Ana didn’t recognize except to know that it was original and expensive. There was no shortage of cash here for sure. Bryan gave their names to the perfectly coiffed receptionist at the front desk and then stepped back to admire the art.

“Marcus Lee,” he murmured.

She came up beside him. “How do you know?”

“My parents bought one of his paintings at a charity auction.” He cast her a quick look, the corner of his mouth lifting. “Personally, I think it’s one of the ugliest things I’ve ever seen.”

Ana studied the splash of oranges and yellows. “They’re power colors. Pretty sure they picked the painting solely for that reason.”

“Well, that’s telling, isn’t it?” He smiled down at her, and the nerves dissipated. They were in this together. And they were going to walk out of this building with the money he needed for his equipment.

“Bryan, Ana.” Adrian’s voice boomed out behind them and they turned. Adrian strode toward them, his hand outstretched, and they each shook it. He was dressed as formally as they were, in a navy-blue suit and power tie. Another man who wore it well, but this one clearly knew it.

“Thanks for seeing us,” Ana said.

“It’s my pleasure. Follow me. We’ve got the conference room.” He turned and led them behind the reception desk to a long hall with glassed-in offices, all filled by men —and precious few women —on their phones or glued to their computers. At the end, he made a sharp right and led them into a large conference room with an oval table and an expansive view of downtown Denver from the floor-to-ceiling windows. He took a seat on one side of the table with his back to the view and gestured for them to take chairs opposite.

“Are we waiting for your associates?” Ana said, slipping herself into the large leather seat.

Adrian unbuttoned his jacket and leaned back in the chair. “No, it’s just me. To be honest, your business is just too small for Compeer to be interested. It’s not investable.”

“Then why are we here?” Bryan asked, his tone neutral. “Other than Ana’s pool skills?”

A smile flitted across Adrian’s face. “Because I think you have an interesting idea. And because I’ve acted as an angel investor for more than one start-up, and this concept fits nicely into my portfolio.”

“I’d hoped you were going to say that,” Ana said. “Given your interest in Velocity, it seemed to be right in your wheelhouse.”

Adrian focused on Ana, his gaze barely flicking to Bryan. “So tell me, what do you have for me?”

Bryan pulled out his laptop and opened to his presentation. He’d planned on projecting it to the conference room screen, but since it was just the three of them, he swiveled it around so Adrian could view his pitch deck. He started with the cover slide that had a stock coffee photo and the preliminary tagline Ana had come up with, then flicked over to the photo of Flor de Oro’s previous owners that he’d taken before he left, their wrinkled faces creased into smiles.

“This is Edgar and Maria Hernández, the third generation of Hernándezes to live and work on the Flor de Oro farm near Manizales, Colombia.” Bryan went into the story he’d told Ana and the supper club, about how they had been forced to switch from their family’s traditional coffee crops to growing coca in order to keep their farm solvent. Through the whole story, Adrian’s expression remained unreadable, even when Bryan detailed how their son had been killed because of his involvement with the cartels.

“Café Libertad helped them make the transition back to coffee. However, they’re getting to where they can no longer manage the farm themselves, which is where I came in. I’m currently the sole owner and a farmer-member of the Café Libertad co-op, which has more than twenty-five farms in that region alone. The advantage to owning the farm from which we’re sourcing our beans is that it gives us control over the quality of our supply as well as significantly decreasing the variable costs.”

Bryan clicked through his deck as he outlined the numbers, from expected overhead costs to revenue projections. Adrian threw back his own set of questions, which Bryan answered smoothly and confidently. Then Adrian glanced at Ana. “And what’s your role in this venture?”

“I’m an advisor. My job is to work with distribution channels for the finished product along with coordinating our marketing and messaging. As you probably already know, I’m currently a publicist for Massey-Coleman. I hold a degree in communication and media studies from USC as well as an MBA from Berkeley.”

“That’s very impressive,” Adrian murmured, his eyes staying on Ana for just a touch too long. Then he looked back to Bryan. “I’m going to go out on a limb for you. Assuming everything is in line, I’d be willing to invest fifty thousand dollars for equipment and packaging, but I want a 50 percent stake in the company.”

“No,” Bryan said flatly.

Ana glanced at him. “You’re putting the valuation at a hundred thousand dollars. That’s a bit shortsighted.”

“That’s generous,” Adrian said. “As you well know, the coffee business is extremely competitive. Your entire concept is based on the social-responsibility angle, but your supply is small. If you don’t have beans from former coca plantations, you don’t have a business. And agriculture in general is risky.”

Ana chose her words carefully. “Given Bryan has already made a significant investment, I don’t think that’s something we’re willing to do.”

Adrian shrugged. “That’s my offer.”

Bryan’s gaze never left Adrian’s face. “I’m asking fifty thousand for 15 percent.”

Adrian smiled. “This isn’t Shark Tank, Bryan. We’re not negotiating here. I’m largely doing this as a favor, and given our history, I think that’s more than generous.”

“You’re doing this because you like the story behind the company, and you like what it says about you if you invest in it.” Bryan cocked his head. “If I’m not mistaken, your family is from Venezuela; isn’t that right?”

Adrian looked taken aback.

“Last time I checked, Venezuela was the main route for trafficking cocaine from Colombia to the rest of the world, particularly Europe. In fact, the American crackdown on the Colombian cartels and the Venezuelan government’s lack of interest in the antidrug campaign —and corruption, of course —has resulted in a large number of traffickers moving into the region. I’ll be the first to admit that I don’t fully understand the political situation in Venezuela, but I have to imagine that the massive amount of money being fed in by Colombian cartels has to be contributing to the human rights situation in your country. Or rather, your parents’ country, since you were born here.”

A smile returned to Adrian’s face. “You did your homework.”

“Of course I did.” Bryan held his gaze. “So this may be business, but I also know it’s personal.”

Adrian’s attention flicked to Ana. “And here I thought you were the one to watch out for.”

She just lifted a shoulder in response.

Adrian considered for a long moment, then licked his lips. “Thirty percent. I’ve got no guarantee that I’ll ever see a return on this business, and sentimentality only goes so far when it’s my own money on the line.”

Bryan glanced at Ana, and she gave him her imperceptible nod of agreement. It wasn’t the deal that she’d hoped to get, but for a small operation like theirs, it was reasonable. And regardless of what happened with the roasting business, it was still Bryan’s farm.

“You have a deal,” Bryan said.

The three of them rose, and Adrian shook their hands. “Send over your due diligence package and I’ll get started on it right away. If everything checks out, you should have your money in a few weeks.”

They moved into the hallway, but when Bryan started toward the reception area, Adrian held Ana back. “If you’ll give us just a moment, Bryan, I’d like to have a word with Ana.”

Ana gave a nod of assent, and Bryan paused at the end of the hallway out of earshot. He didn’t look particularly pleased. Ana turned to Adrian expectantly.

“Now that we’ve gotten the business out of the way, what are you doing for dinner on Friday?”

Ana blinked at him. “Why?”

He smiled. “Because I’m busy tomorrow and Thursday, and Saturday is too far away.”

Despite herself, Ana felt a smile come to her lips. “I mean, why are you being so persistent?”

Adrian shrugged and thrust his hands into his pockets. “I like you. You’re smart, you’re beautiful, and you play a mean game of pool.”

Ana worried her lip with her teeth and unconsciously glanced down the hallway at Bryan, who was staring at them with a slight frown on his face.

“Ah, I see. I’m sorry, I thought you said you two were just friends.” Adrian held up his hands. “I didn’t mean to step on any toes here, especially when we may be in business together.”

She snapped her attention back to Adrian. “No, it’s not that. We really are just friends. It’s just that . . .” She took a breath and realized she really didn’t have any reason to say no. He might have come off as arrogant at the club the other night, but she was beginning to think he really wasn’t a bad guy. It also occurred to her that he might be doing this to get back at Bryan, but that was silly considering Bryan had no interest in her besides her help in his business.

“Okay,” she said finally. “You have my number.”

He smiled, and Ana had to admit it was a nice smile. “I’ll call you later this week then.”

“Okay,” she said again. “We can let ourselves out. No need to walk us.”

She turned on her heel and walked toward Bryan, who was now looking at her expectantly. “What was that all about?”

Ana took a deep breath. “He asked me out.”

“Now? What did you say?”

She shrugged as if it didn’t matter. “I said yes.”

“He didn’t imply that if you didn’t —”

“No, not at all.” Ana hiked her bag higher on her shoulder. “Can we just go now?”

Bryan nodded, but there was a tightness in his jaw that implied he didn’t quite believe her. He should know her better than that. She might work situations to her advantage, but there was no way she was going to date someone just to make sure a deal went through. In fact, that whole idea was insulting.

But when they climbed into her SUV and Bryan still remained silent, something else occurred to her. Maybe he didn’t disapprove because he thought it was related to their deal; maybe he disapproved because it wasn’t.