Bro Code by Kendall Ryan
There’s a knock on my office door and two imposing men in black suits waltz in, briefcases gripped tightly in their fists. It’s awfully rude of them to walk right into my office without letting me answer the door, but the taller of the two men extends one hand across my desk before I have a chance to question their manners. Hesitantly, I stand up and reach my right hand out to meet his.
“Ava Saunders, I presume?” His hand completely swallows mine, more of a power play than a handshake.
“Yes...and you are?”
“Mr. Chase Roland, CEO of Roland Enterprises. This is my colleague. Perhaps you’re familiar with our work, we have a factory nearby.” Each of them settles into a chair across from my desk, despite the fact that I haven't offered either of them a seat. I hurry back to my desk to shuffle together all the legal papers I had spread out, sliding them into a drawer for later attention. Whoever these men are, my current legal situation is none of their business.
“I can’t say I’ve ever heard of you,” I say curtly, which is an obvious blow to Mr. Roland. He wrinkles his forehead, then quickly straightens out his shoulders, regaining his bearings on the conversation.
“Regardless, I’m here today because I’d like to approach you with an offer for this factory of yours.”
“Excuse me?” I shift back in my seat, sitting up a bit straighter. “Last I checked it wasn’t for sale, Mr. Roland.”
“Ava, if I-”
“Ms. Saunders,” I correct him sternly.
“Ms. Saunders. I am prepared to offer you a large sum of money for this facility. You have some prime real estate here and I believe my company could turn this into something really valuable. I’m sure we can work out a deal that would be of great benefit to both of us.”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Roland, but this plant is invaluable to me. I’m not looking to sell.”
“Perhaps you wouldn’t feel that way if you were offered a million for this little facility.”
I shift my gaze to my feet to try to conceal the surprise in my eyes. A million dollars? That’s double the offer I could have imagined in my wildest dreams. I can’t pretend like it’s not an alluring offer, but it’s irrelevant. The factory isn’t for sale.
I take a deep breath, and square my shoulders. “Mr. Roland, that’s an incredibly generous offer, but I’m afraid I have to decline. My employees and their families rely on this factory and my loyalty is to them.”
He pivots in his seat to lock eyes with his silent business partner, who gives him a firm nod.
“I understand,” he says, turning back to me. “A million and a half then. Final offer.”
One and a half million dollars. There’s no hiding how tempted I am. I think of my father’s medical bills, of the apartment I would be able to afford. Maybe an apartment a little closer to Chicago, a little closer to Barrett. And then I hear the familiar whir of the machines and the chatter of my employees, my second family, the ones I have to look out for above anything else.
“It’s not for sale, Mr. Roland,” I manage to sputter out, watching the beautiful apartment of my dreams slip out of reach.
“Fine. I see that you are in no place to make a deal today. That’s fine. But my offer stands.” He lifts his briefcase onto his lap and snaps it open, pulling a business card out between his middle and pointer finger like a Vegas blackjack dealer. “I’d encourage you to give it some serious thought. And while you’re at it, do a little research on my company. I think you’ll be impressed to see that your facility here would be in great hands. We have taken over factories much larger than this one in the past and seen wild success.”
Roland extends the card across my desk and I reach out tentatively to take it. I flip the glossy, black card over and over in my hands, considering the cost of getting cards like these made. It’s obvious that this guy is no joke—he’s a serious businessman, and I ought to take his offer seriously, too.
“What are you looking to do with this facility, Mr. Roland?”
“That’s of no importance to you, my dear,” Roland says sharply. My jaw tightens at his use of the word ‘dear.’ “All you need to know is that you would be handsomely compensated.”
“And what about the employees?”
“What about them?”
“My staff is my priority. I could never so much as consider selling without knowing for certain that the jobs of my staff would be kept intact. As well as their benefits and insurance policies. I’d need a direct role in the selection of all items pertaining to the employees.”
“I had a feeling you would be looking for more information regarding that,” he says, digging back into his briefcase and emerging with a manila folder. “So, I drafted up this contract. It’s not written in stone, but it offers a good look at what the takeover might involve.” He closes the briefcase with a decisive snap and slides the folder across the desk. I don’t dare touch it, not wanting to show too much interest while he still has an eye on me.
“Give me a call whenever you’re ready to talk business,” Mr. Roland says, getting to his feet and extending his hand once again. “My attorney and I will be awaiting your response, Ava.”
“Ms. Saunders.”
“Yes. Ms. Saunders,” he says flippantly, turning on his heels to leave. “Hold onto that card. You’ll do the right thing.”
The venom in his voice makes it sound more like a threat than a suggestion. I get up from my desk to see them out and close the door behind them, clicking the lock to ensure that I have complete privacy.
With a heavy breath, I settle back in at my desk and pull the summons papers back out of the drawer, setting them on the desk next to Mr. Roland’s business card. I glance at the papers, then at the card. Each one is equally daunting. Still, it seems foolish to dismiss a $1.5 million offer when I’m staring down the barrel of this lawsuit. If my staff would be secure in their jobs, would it really be the worst thing in the world to let the company be in someone else’s hands? But on the other hand, do I really want to sell out the business my father put decades of hard work into?
Between deciphering all this legal jargon and dealing with the new curveball of a potential buyout, there’s no way I can navigate this without Barrett’s help. He’s a corporate lawyer, after all. Mom and Nick may have plenty of opinions on the subject, but Barrett has a little less bias and a lot more professional insight. Letting him advise me is the best move for the business.
And if it means I have to see him again, well, I certainly can’t complain.
Chapter Twenty-four
Barrett
Busy streets stretch out toward the horizon beyond my window, as hundreds of cars and people leaving work push their way through traffic to get back home to their loved ones.
There's no reason for me to rush out into traffic, no one for me to go home to, so I usually wait for the rush hour to die down before leaving the office.
I glance at the email I haven't been able to respond to all day. It's from my step-sister Kimberly asking if I'm planning on bringing a plus one to the wedding. In a perfect world, I'd invite Ava. We'd sip champagne, and share a sweet kiss on the dance floor. Being near her just feels right, even if it'd be wrong in everyone else's eyes. I can't help how I feel.
But…how I feel hardly matters at the moment.
All I have to do to make partner is do my job; the one I busted my ass for all these years. Writing up contracts is second nature, seizing opportunity, capitalizing on weakness the second there's blood in the water—it's who I am.
But how can I do that now? If this was any other contract, I wouldn't even be questioning it.
The door to my office swings open and I straighten in my chair as Mr. Lyons walks in with a smile and his three-thousand-dollar suit. He doesn't smile much unless there's money involved.
“Barrett, how's that deal coming?” The expectation in his voice is clear; there's only one answer I can give.
“Good.” I reflect the smile back, full of confidence. “One more signatur
“I knew you were the man to take care of this.” Lyons chuckles, satisfied with himself. “Since the day you started, I knew you had potential. All you needed was the right opportunity to prove yourself.”
My stomach tightens in disapproval. “Thank you for giving me the opportunity then, sir.”
“Of course. The partners have faith you'll see this through,” he says, then steps back through my door.
When the latch shuts again, I sigh, then crack open the folder on my desk. All the paperwork is in order, every contract signed and certified except for one. I reach for the phone on my desk, only for it to buzz with a call before I can pick up.
“Mr. Wilson,” the receptionist sounds a little surprised, and I can hear another woman insisting on something in the background, “there's an... Ava Saunders here to see you? She says it's urgent.”
Ava is outside my office? “Go ahead and send her in.”
Flipping the folder on my desk closed, I rise from my chair, ready to meet Ava at the door once she steps off the elevator.
It only takes a minute before I see her, but she's so harried that she nearly walks right past my office before I yank the door open and duck my head out. “Ava.”
“Oh, Barrett!” She turns around, clutching a manila folder tight to her chest. “Sorry. The receptionist just said you were on this floor, but I wasn't sure where.”
“Well, you found me.” I gesture toward my desk. “Come on in.”
She takes a seat in the chair across from mine, gathering herself together with a few deep breaths. I'm not sure I've ever seen her look so distraught before, but the reason is the contract she sets across my desk, fanning out the stack of papers like a handful of cards.
“Listen, I know I said I didn't need your help, but I was wrong.” She bites her lip, fighting to keep her voice composed. “This is a trap. I can sense it. The people trying to buy the factory from me keep pushing and pushing, but won't give me any straight answers.”
“Lawyers never give any straight answers,” I say, but the joke lands flat on its face when her eyes glitter with unshed tears. My heart thumps hard in my chest, and I feel like someone's just punched me in the gut.
“I'm so scared. I think they're going to take the factory and everyone's jobs, and I don't know how to stop them. All the fine print is...” She runs her fingers across the tiny letters, where the full details of the agreement are hidden in subheadings and legalese. “I can't make any sense of it.”
I know she can't. Not when I wrote out everything myself, crafting each demand the firm wanted in the most oblique terms. It would hold up in any court of law, but reads like nonsense to anyone who hasn't passed the bar.
Shit. Now that she's here, sitting right in front of me, I want to punch myself in the face.
A sharp knock on the door stops me from answering, and Mr. Roland walks in with a sly grin painted across his face. What the fuck is he doing here?
Completely ignoring the fact that I'm talking with someone, Roland walks right up to my desk, and knocks the rings on his hand against its smooth wooden surface.
“Barrett! The man of the hour.” He jabs a thumb on the stack of contracts on my desk. “You wrote that agreement so tight an ant couldn't slip through it.”
Ava's eyes lock on him, then jerk back over to me, panic flooding her pretty features.
Roland is still looking at me, grinning like a shark. “It's a good thing, too. We'll boot everyone working there out in two weeks and flip the property. The investors are already lining up.”
“Roland.” I grit my teeth, too on edge to even pretend to show him the respect I'm supposed to.
“Don't look so tense, son. You've got this.” His attention falls on Ava finally, surprise playing out across his face. “Oh, you're in the middle of hashing things out with Ms. Saunders. I should get out of your way so she can sign off on the contract.”
“Hashing out what with me?” she snaps, her face pale as she levels an accusatory glare at the folder sitting closed on my desk.
She reaches across to open the file, but I have to stop her, pulling it out of her reach. “Ava, you can't look at that. It belongs to the firm.”
“It's the same contract they served me with, isn't it?” She gets up out of her seat, stuffing her copy of the contract back into its folder. “Your firm is representing these assholes? You want my factory. You set this whole thing up from the beginning just so you could get what you wanted? Well, fuck you, Barrett Wilson. Over my dead body.”
“Roland, we need some privacy,” I say hastily, and Mr. Roland steps out, confusion furrowing his gray brows. Once he's gone, I turn to Ava. “Please let me explain.”
She moves toward the door, but I catch her by the arm, stopping her. The moment I touch her, she whirls around, defiance burning in her eyes. “Go to hell, Barrett. And get your hands off me.”
She wrenches her arm out of my grasp, her face awash with so much hurt, it makes me physically ache. Because I never wanted this to happen, especially not like this.
“How dare you.” Her voice is lower now but filled with just as much fury, almost a hiss. “Now it all makes sense.”
“What makes sense?” I know she's angry, but I'm not following the leap of logic.
“You and me,” she scoffs, shaking her head. “My whole life, you never showed any interest in me. Then you sweep on in and start helping everyone. Nick and my parents and—hitting on me like I was the hottest thing in town.”
“Wait.” I've wanted her since the beginning. Fuck. I’ve always wanted her. “That and this are not connected.”
Her eyes narrow. “Sure, they're not. How am I supposed to believe anything you say?”
“It's true!” This sure as hell isn't the way I wanted to bring this up, but I'm not letting her leave here believing that I was trying to screw her over from day one. “The only reason I held back was because of your brother. I told you that.”
“That's sure convenient. It didn't stop you in the end.” She gives a half-hearted wave toward my window, hurt still shining in her eyes. “It didn't stop you from inviting me here, to Chicago, and using me.”
“I wasn't using you.” There's so much I want to explain, but giving her details of the firm's side of the deal would land my ass in hot water. “The last thing I wanted to do that weekend was go into work.”
“But you did. And you've spent who knows how long building a case to take the factory out from under me.” She glances down at the nameplate on my desk, at the business cards with the firm's name etched on them in black ink. “How could you represent these people, Barrett? They only care about money. They're going to take away hundreds of jobs and leave all those hardworking families behind.”
“Ava, it's my job. I work for the clients that hire my firm, not the other way around.” It's not like I want to fire everyone at the factory, but that's not my call. My responsibility is locking down the deal so it's all done legally. “They're going to make me partner for this.”
She stares at me in disbelief, fingers holding onto the file folder so tight that the paper is starting to bend and warp. “So that's why. You saw the chance to get what you wanted, so screw everyone else, right?”
“I told you I had a chance to be partner and you encouraged me to take the case,” I insist. “Your business was struggling to begin with. Everyone told you to sell and get the factory off your hands.”
“You didn't.” She sniffles, then rubs one hand over her face. “You said I was smart enough to make my own decisions.”
“And this is the smart decision.” As soon as I put two and two together, I did everything I could, from talking to the senior partner, to drafting heavy handed emails to make sure the company trying to buy the place offered her a fair price; that was the least I could do with my hands tied. “With that money, you can start any kind of business you want. Something you want to nurture, not holding onto your dad's old car
“He gave up everything for that factory!” The volume fades from her voice as she draws in a ragged breath. “He almost died, Barrett. Just because you're heartless doesn't mean I'm going to be.”
Heartless is the last thing I am right now. My pulse is like thunder in my chest, hammering with adrenaline. “So, what? You're going to sacrifice yourself to that place like he did? You're going to get sued for the accident and end up with nothing to show for it? How is that honoring your father's work?”
“How about your stepfather?” she accuses, voice sharp. “He worked at the factory before he passed away. Don't you care about that legacy at all?”
“My stepfather didn't give a shit about me.” It's the truth, but some part of it still stings, the dull ache settling low in my gut. “We'd all be better off if that factory was in someone else's hands, instead of being chained to it.”
She shakes her head, taking a step toward the door. Her voice comes out cool and confident. “I'm not going to stand here and listen to this anymore. I know whose side you're on now.”
“It isn't like that.” I'm gripping the edge of the doorframe so tight my knuckles feel like they're going to pop. I know the second she walks out of here, it's all over.
“I hate you.” She looks me in the eyes as she says it, the anger in her gaze driving the words that much deeper. “I hate everything you've done. Don't even try and come back to see us in Indiana, because you're not welcome anymore.”
Before I can respond, she storms out of my office, yanking the door shut behind her so hard the glass rattles. I'm left standing alone with that damn contract, wanting to flip my desk over and watch all the pages go flying. She knew exactly how to cut me to the bone, and she used everything in her arsenal to do it. The idea of her parents shutting the door in my face is almost more than I can take.
I was so close to getting everything I wanted. It felt even better than I dreamed, and it just walked out the door.