The man was the epitome of politeness, offering a slight bow as he greeted us. “Sorry, I’ve been away <b>for a </b>while. I didn’t realize how crazy the evening rush in RiverCity could be.”
“No worries at all. We’re just d you could make it!”
Laura stood up to introduce us. “This is the CEO of RF Group, York Carlson. It’s a pleasure to have you with us, Mr. Carlson.”
I half expected someone of his stature to be a bit standoffish, but he <b>was </b>surprisingly approachable and even took the initiative to refill our drinks.
Christine and I exchanged bewildered looks <b>as </b>he set down the decanter to get down to business. “Investing won’t be an issue, but obviously, RF will need a significant stake. I hope you’re prepared for that.”
“We are,” I nodded, epting the fact.
I had done my homework. Founders often ended up with a smaller piece of the pie, but without the capital ourselves, we had little choice.
Christine, with her knack for negotiation, added in <b>good </b>spirits, “Mr. Carlson, we’re all from RiverCity here. You’ve got to leave us enough.
to live on.”
“Ms. Jackson, you’ve got a sense of humor<b>,</b>” he responded, a mix of warmth and age–defying wisdom coloring his tone. “We’re looking at a 51% stake. The only catch is, any future financing rounds will need RF’s approval.”
Fifty–one percent. It was lower than I expected, but it was a delicate bnce that tipped the scales of control.
Christine caught on too, “What about the day–to–day management and decision–making<b>?</b>”
“We <b>won’t </b>interfere,” he assured us.
That promise was a balm to our worries.
With the major concerns of shares and decision–making power addressed<b>, </b>the rest of the negotiations went surprisingly smoothly. All that was left was to <b>wait </b>for RF’s contract.
On the ride home, with our driver navigating the streets, Christine leaned on my shoulder, pondering if we’d just hit a jackpot. “Maybe?” I replied. But something nagged at me, a feeling of unease I couldn’t shake.
Reying the evening’s events in my mind, it suddenly clicked. The man, <b>York </b>Carlson, looked familiar.
Yet, for the life of me, I couldn’t ce where I’d seen him before.
Christine, upon hearing that, teased, “You’re overthinking it. He’s been everywhere since RF went publicst month. It’s normal you’d recognize him.<b>”</b>N?velDrama.Org owns all ? content.
Reassured, I stepped out of the car, only to bump into Gregory just as <b>he </b>was stepping into his apartment. He nced back at me, a hint of amusement in his eyes, “Had a bit to drink?”
“Yeah,” I mumbled, my head a bit fuzzy.
Then, remembering something, I rushed inside, grabbed the dress Id had cleaned and returned it to him. “The dress you lent me for the dinner. It’s cleaned. Meant to get it back to you sooner, but our paths never crossed.”
Gregory leaned against the doorframe, an unreadable expression on his face. “Been taking care of Bryant?”