Chapter 61 - 60 The Loan
EMILY
Eighteen thousand, eight hundred and eighty-eight dollars is a number that can make a perfectly sane person consider dining and dashing from a skyscraper.
The leather checkbook holder feels heavier than a brick in my sweaty palms. I stare at the printed receipt. The crisp black ink mocks my current financial reality. Eighteen thousand, eight hundred and eighty-eight dollars.
I recount the zeroes. I blink twice. The numbers remain stubbornly identical.
The waitress stands beside the table. She has a pinched nose, excessive contouring powder on her cheekbones, and a smug posture. She clearly enjoys my visible distress.
The heavy scent of her cheap floral perfume clashes violently with the delicate aroma of the truffle risotto lingering in the air.
I mentally calculate the last time I ate at Bordeaux 101. Julian Thorne sat across from me. We ordered the exact same dishes. That bill came to a very manageable five thousand dollars. The difference glares at me from the bottom of the receipt. The bottle of vintage red wine Dr. Aris ordered is the culprit. I wanted to treat him well. I failed to check the price list first.
Panic rises in my throat. I swallow it down with a gulp of water. The ice clinks against the crystal glass. The cold water does nothing to soothe my nerves. Dr. Aris is currently in the restroom. I absolutely refuse to let a respectable elder pay for a meal I explicitly offered to host. I scrape together a mental inventory of my bank accounts. Six thousand dollars. That is my entire net worth.
I need a loan. Fast.
"Is there a problem with the bill, Miss?" The waitress asks and I can already see the condescending frown forming on her face.
I open my mouth to buy some time. A shadow falls over the table before I can form a coherent sentence.
Warren, a man I’ve seen on many magazine covers with Alistair, slides into my peripheral vision. He wears a meticulously tailored beige suit that probably costs more than a luxury car. His sandy blond hair is styled back with exact precision. His striking blue eyes hold a calculating gleam as he assesses the situation. He moves with the effortless grace of a man who owns the building.
"Is everything alright here?" Warren asks.
The waitress visibly pales. Her smug posture instantly dissolves into a rigid bow. "Boss. Everything is fine. The lady is just reviewing her check."
Warren waves her away with a flick of his wrist. She scurries off without another word. He turns his attention to me. He leans against the edge of the mahogany table.
"You look a little stressed, Emily." He points a manicured finger at the leather folder. "Allow me to handle that for you. Consider it a gift for a new friend."
I slide the checkbook out of his reach. Warren has the kind of charming smile that predators use to lure prey. He is a close associate of Alistair Wolfe. Accepting a financial favor from him feels like stepping into a perfectly set bear trap. I don’t trust him at all.
"Thank you for the offer, Warren. I have it covered."
"Pride is a heavy thing to carry." He tilts his head. "Are you sure? It is just a meal. I own the place, after all."
"I’m perfectly sure." I stand up. I smooth the wrinkles from my simple cotton skirt. I grab my purse and step away from the table. "Excuse me."
I leave him standing there and walk directly toward the entrance.
Leo follows me as I walk. His broad shoulders intimidate everyone who walks past. I need his help right now.
I stop directly in front of him. I clutch my purse with both hands. "Leo."
He looks down at me. His posture shifts into immediate alertness. "Yes, Ma’am. Do you need to leave?"
"Not yet." I bite the inside of my cheek. "I need you to call Alistair for me."
Leo raises a thick eyebrow but the surprise on his face only lasts a second. He reaches into his jacket pocket without a single question. He pulls out a sleek black smartphone and taps the screen. He holds the device to his ear. The restaurant’s ambient noise fades into the background as I focus on the silent ringing.
"Sir," Leo says. "Your wife wishes to speak with you."
Leo extends the phone toward me. My fingers tremble slightly as I take it. The sleek metal is warm from his grip. I turn away from Leo and walk toward the floor-to-ceiling windows. The city stretches out below. Tiny cars move like ants along the sunlit streets. The midday light reflects off the surrounding glass towers.
I bring the phone to my ear.
"What is it?" Alistair speaks. His voice is a sharp, resonant baritone. It commands attention immediately.
I clear my throat. My mouth feels completely dry. Asking a billionaire for money should theoretically be easy. Asking the billionaire I entered a contractual marriage with feels deeply embarrassing.
"Hi." I wince at my own awkward greeting. "I have a small problem."
"Be specific." He responds. The rustle of paper sounds through the speaker. He is clearly working.
"I’m at Bordeaux 101." I keep my eyes fixed on a distant skyscraper. "I invited Dr. Aris to lunch to thank him for his help. I completely underestimated the price of vintage wine."
The line remains quiet for a full three seconds. I grip the phone tighter.
"You need money to pay a restaurant bill." He says. The flat tone of his voice gives away nothing.
"Yes. But I actually need more than just the dinner money." I take a deep breath. "I need a loan."
The rustling of paper stops entirely. "A loan."
"Yes." I press my forehead against the cool glass of the window. "I found a business opportunity. I need capital to invest in a pharmaceutical partnership with my medical formula. I promise to pay you back with interest once the licensing goes through."
"How much?”
The direct question catches me slightly off guard. I expected an interrogation. I expected him to mock me. I didn’t expect pure business efficiency.
"Uhmm. One million dollars." I say the number quickly.
"Fine," Alistair says.
I blink at the window reflection. "Fine? Just like that? You don’t want to see a business proposal?"
"I don’t have time to review a proposal for pocket change." The sound of a pen clicking echoes over the line. "Send me your bank account number."
"I don’t have your contact information saved on my phone." I turn around to face the restaurant floor. "Tell me your number. I’ll text you the account details right now."
Alistair recites an eleven-digit number. I memorize it instantly.
"Got it." I smile. A massive weight lifts off my shoulders. "Thank you, Alistair. Truly."
"Just make sure you secure a profitable return on this investment." The call disconnects.
I hand the phone back to Leo. I pull out my own battered device and quickly draft a text message. I type in my bank account number and hit send. Less than a minute later, my screen lights up with a banking notification.
Transfer received. Amount: 1,000,000 dollars.
I stare at the digital zeroes. The sheer financial power of the Wolfe family is staggering. I now have the capital to negotiate properly for my formula. I have the leverage I need to build my own foundation. I’m no longer just a helpless student relying on the charity of others. I take a deep, steadying breath. Confidence replaces the lingering anxiety in my chest.
I march back to the table. Dr. Aris is just returning from the restroom. He smiles warmly at me. He has silver hair, kind eyes, and a slight limp. I quickly signal the waitress. She practically sprints over with a handheld payment terminal. Her attitude is completely subservient now. I tap my card against the machine. The transaction goes through immediately. The little machine prints a long receipt.
"Ready to go, Dr. Aris?" I ask.
"Yes, indeed." He nods. "Thank you for the wonderful meal, Emily. I’ll be in touch regarding the university admission soon."
We walk out of the restaurant together. The elevator ride down to the ground floor is quick and quiet. We part ways at the main lobby. He heads toward the medical district. I step out into the blazing afternoon sun.
Leo falls into step right beside me. The heat radiating off the pavement is intense.
"Leo," I say. I adjust the strap of my purse on my shoulder. "Is Silas Hunt still waiting at the South Gate?"
Leo touches his earpiece. He listens for a moment. "Yes. He is pacing near the main entrance. He has four of his men with him."
I picture Silas Hunt. He wears sleazy silk shirts unbuttoned too low. He sports a gold chain thick enough to choke a horse. He thinks his local influence makes him untouchable. He caused so much trouble for Aunt Cherry and her daughter. He kidnapped Dr. Aris just to force a medical consultation. Now he needs something that only I can provide.
"Perfect." I crack my knuckles. The sound is sharp in the humid air. "I’m going to see an old friend.”