CHAPTER THREE
918 Words
At 7:29 the next morning, Arabella decided her father had invented early meetings specifically to punish his children.
Julian was already there.
Naturally.
He sat opposite their father with one ankle resting over his knee and a cup of coffee in his hand, looking offensively comfortable for someone who had also been summoned before breakfast.
Arabella stopped beside him.
“How long have you been here?”
“Long enough to regain favorite-child status.”
“You never had it.”
“You sound threatened.”
“I sound tired.”
Their father closed the folder in front of him.
The room went quiet.
Arabella sat.
His office had changed very little since she was a child. Dark shelves. Heavy walnut desk. The brass clock near the window ticking loudly enough to make waiting feel deliberate.
Her father removed his glasses.
“You cut the terminal investment to twenty-five million.”
Straight to it.
Arabella crossed her legs.
“Mercer found something I underestimated.”
Julian’s eyebrows lifted.
She turned to him.
“Don’t.”
He raised his coffee.
“I’m innocent.”
“You’ve never been innocent.”
Their father ignored them.
“You corrected it?”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
Arabella frowned.
She had prepared herself for criticism during the entire drive over.
“Good?”
“That’s what I pay Mercer for.”
“He enjoyed it.”
“He’s allowed hobbies.”
Julian hid a smile behind his coffee.
Arabella looked at him.
“You’re very cheerful for someone within throwing distance.”
Their father pushed the folder aside.
“Legal reviews the revised Northstar agreement before anything else is signed.”
“Fine.”
“And next time, read the clause before Mercer does.”
There it was.
Arabella pressed her lips together.
“Noted.”
That seemed to satisfy him.
No speech.
No interrogation.
No reopening yesterday’s entire meeting so everyone could suffer through it twice.
Julian set his cup down.
“For what it’s worth, I still would’ve walked away.”
Arabella turned.
“Nobody asked.”
“I’m offering perspective.”
“Keep it. You might need some later.”
A small smile appeared on his face.
Their father reached for another document.
“The matter is closed.”
And just like that, it was.
Arabella almost felt cheated.
She had rehearsed several excellent arguments on the drive over.
Apparently they would die unused.
Her phone vibrated.
She glanced at the screen.
Nadia.
Julian noticed the name and immediately looked far too entertained.
Arabella pointed at him before answering.
“Not one word.”
He raised both hands.
She accepted the call.
“Morning.”
“Seven-fifteen.”
Arabella blinked.
“Good morning to you too.”
“I’m confirming dinner before your company develops another emergency.”
Julian heard that.
His shoulders started shaking.
Arabella turned away from him.
“I said I’d be there.”
“You also said you’d call me last night.”
“I know.”
“Did you?”
Arabella looked at the ceiling.
“No.”
“Exactly.”
“I was busy.”
“You’re always busy.”
That one landed without Nadia needing to raise her voice.
Arabella looked down at her watch.
“Seven-fifteen.”
“Promise?”
She hesitated for only a second.
“Promise.”
“Good.”
A pause.
Then Nadia’s voice softened.
“Love you, Auntie.”
Arabella smiled.
“Love you too.”
The call ended.
Julian was still watching her.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“Then stop looking pleased with yourself.”
“She manages you better than I do.”
“She has youth on her side.”
“She’s nineteen.”
“Exactly. Ruthless age.”
Their father lowered the document he was reading.
“Are you two finished?”
Arabella opened her mouth.
The office phone rang.
Their father answered.
“Voss.”
Arabella stood and collected her folder.
Finally.
She had people downstairs waiting for her, a revised agreement to review and, apparently, dinner to protect from the collapse of civilization.
She reached the door.
Then stopped.
Her father had stopped writing.
“When?”
Julian looked over.
Arabella turned.
Their father listened.
“No. Don’t reroute anything yet.”
A pause.
His expression remained controlled, but the pen between his fingers had gone still.
“How many depots?”
Another silence.
“Who owns Calder now?”
Something in the room changed.
Arabella set her folder back down.
Her father listened for several seconds.
Then his eyes lifted.
“Send me the transfer documents.”
He ended the call.
Julian put his coffee down.
“What happened?”
Their father looked at them.
“Calder suspended this morning’s fuel deliveries.”
Arabella frowned.
Calder supplied three of Voss Meridian’s largest inland depots.
“Why?”
“Revised terms.”
“What revised terms?”
He turned a sheet of paper toward her.
Arabella picked it up.
Her gaze landed on the new rate.
She read it twice.
“Twenty-six percent?”
Julian stood.
“What?”
She handed him the page.
“They want twenty-six percent more. Effective immediately.”
Julian scanned it.
“They have an active contract.”
“They’re claiming the ownership transfer triggered a renegotiation clause,” their father said.
Arabella looked at him.
“Ownership transfer?”
“Completed last night.”
Julian lowered the notice.
“Who bought Calder?”
Their father met his eyes.
“Devereaux Energy.”
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