“Not better,” Drew said. “Less risky.”
“My plan isn’t risky,” Cooper said stubbornly.
“You want to invest forty million dollars in this,” Drew said. “Flight+Risk will be overextended. Of course the board is going to balk.”
“The company has stellar credit and it will only be for the next eighteen months. The location I’ve picked is perfect. There’s already a resort there—”
“A dated, crummy hotel,” Matt interjected.
“And, yes, it needs renovations, but the preliminary inspector said the building was sound.” The hotel he’d found, Beck’s Lodge, was aging and currently unprofitable, but he knew he could turn it into something amazing. “The snow out there is perfect. As soon as the resort opens, the returns on this investment will be huge. You know I’m right.”
“Yeah,” Drew said. “I think you’re right. But the board cares more about what the stock market thinks.”
“Being overextended isn’t the problem,” Matt said without looking up.
Drew and Cooper both turned to look at Matt.
“What?” Drew asked.
“Then what is the problem?” Cooper asked.
“It’s a problem of perception.” Matt looked up as if surprised to be the center of the attention. “Come on. Cooper has a reputation for taking crazy risks. That incident with the model after the Olympics when you were reprimanded is a perfect example. And everyone knows Flight+Risk nearly failed in the first two years and would have if you hadn’t been pumping your own money into the company to keep it afloat.”
“You’re saying the board didn’t vote against the idea. They voted against me.”
“The media loves that stuff,” Matt said, shrugging. “It makes for great reading. But the kinds of risks you take scare the hell out of investors.”
“Those kinds of risks pay off.”
“Barely.”
“No. Every one of the risks I’ve taken in business has paid off huge.”
“Yes. They did pay off huge. After you almost failed miserably. You’ve had a lot of success, but your winning streak is going to end someday. No one wants to catch the flak from that.”
“So you’re saying everyone just thinks it’s my time to fail.”
“Yeah.”
“But this isn’t risky. By the time I’m done with this resort, the best snowboarders in the world will be there. If I were a golfer building one of those golf communities, everyone would be clamoring to invest.”
“Maybe.” Matt shrugged and looked back down at his laptop. “But golf is different. Those guys know rich. You’re just a snowboarder.”
Just a snowboarder?
That pissed him off. Yeah, he knew Matt didn’t mean it personally, but it was hard not to take it that way.
Because even if Matt didn’t buy that argument, plenty of other people did. Never mind that Cooper had been running Flight+Risk for three times as long as he’d been a professional snowboarder. He had more money now than any one man could spend in a lifetime and had earned his money himself, unlike so many other rich bastards. And he’d never once made a business decision that hadn’t paid off. Never mind any of that.
In the end, the board was scared he didn’t have the business chops to know a great investment from a pipe dream. They’d pegged him as too much of a risk taker just because he’d left college to snowboard professionally. They thought he didn’t know the upscale market just because he’d had to work for every one of his successes. Because he’d worked hard to keep his relationship to the Cains on the down low. He’d never wanted people handing him things because of who his father was. He’d never wanted the Cain name to buy him anything. So sure, his lineage was out there for whoever dug around in his past—and reporters loved that nonsense—but he didn’t advertise it. He’d never taken the Cain name, even though he’d lived with Hollister and Caro after his mother had died. He never talked about his father or his family connections.
He would have laughed at the irony if it hadn’t pissed him off so damn much.
Would he have to put up with this kind of thing if he’d been in the habit of reminding the board who his father was? If he’d trotted out his father’s name, the board probably would have rolled right over.
Instead, he did things his own way and his ideas were labeled too risky.
It wasn’t fair.
Which was fine. His life had never been fair. He was the king of making not-fair work for him.
He looked up suddenly to realize that his two friends were exchanging worried glances. As if he’d been quiet too long and they were concerned he was plotting Robertson’s demise. Well, he was, but not in the way they were worried about.
So he smiled broadly and stood. “It’s all good.”
Drew stood also. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah. It’s just time for Plan B.”
Matt raised his eyebrows. “Really? ’Cause I heard you say once that backup plans were for losers without the determination to get it right the first time.”
Yeah. That sounded like him. He shrugged. “Okay, we’ll call this Plan 2.0.”
Matt snapped his laptop closed and stood. “So what’s Plan 2.0?”
“I’m going to convince the board that this isn’t risky. I’m going to convince them that I do know this market.”
“They’ve already voted you down. Flight+Risk can’t move forward unless it comes to a vote again,” Matt pointed out.
“I got too eager and pushed the vote too soon. But by the time I’m done with them, they’ll be desperate to get Flight+Risk involved.”
“How exactly are you going to do that?” Drew asked.
“I’m going to hire an expert.”
* * *
In the end, Portia missed her flight to Tahoe and had to reschedule for the next day. The airline had pulled her suitcase off the flight and had held it in Denver, thank goodness, and she’d been able to find a car service to deliver her bag to her hotel. It was all far less inconvenient than it might have been. No matter how Portia tried to tell herself that she’d only lost one day and that she hadn’t gone that far out of her way, she couldn’t help feeling that the entire trip had been a huge waste of time.
For tonight, she’d checked into a hotel in Denver, not far from Flight+Risk’s corporate offices. In the morning she would see about getting another flight to Tahoe. But now, she had room service coming with a salted caramel brownie and carafe of red wine.
Yes, tomorrow she would start her vacation. She’d still get her two weeks of solitude at her parents’ summer cabin by the lake. She’d read the dozen or so books already loaded onto her Nook. She’d watch movies. Do some yoga. It would all be very relaxing.
Except she wasn’t relaxed. Her mind was still whirling with thoughts of the waitress from the Kimball Hotel, the woman she knew was Hollister’s daughter.
Part of her agreed with Cooper. She should just let it go. It wasn’t any of her business.
Honestly, she hadn’t given the Cain heiress much thought in the year since Hollister had issued the challenge. However, now that she’d met the woman, she couldn’t stop worrying about her. She knew better than anyone what a brutal man Hollister was. He was no one’s ideal father-in-law. He’d criticized