What you make me do Read online

  “I have a business to run.”

  She rolled her dark eyes, pouted her lips, then folded her arms across her ample chest. “What, and I don’t?”

  He lifted a single eyebrow at her. Although he shouldn’t have been petty, he couldn’t resist the jab as it came to his lips. “If you call running your makeup line into the groundwork, then yes, I suppose you have a lot of that to do.”

  “Michael Roth! You arrogant asshole!” She reached for the frilly pillow that she’d contributed to their bedroom – silk with frills along the edges and embroidered carefully, not in the least to his taste – and tossed it at the back of his head. He dodged it easily. This wasn’t the first time she’d tossed something his way.

  “You’re right,” he admitted, finally turning from the mirror to face her. He adjusted his collar over his selected tie, straightening his clothing until he felt in control again. “That was uncalled for. The fashion industry is fickle.” He hesitated and almost kept from adding, “It was a significant amount of money that we lost in the investment.”

  She wrinkled her nose at him, then sighed. “I know and thank you again for ponying up the money. You know I’ll pay you back. Eventually.” She shrugged, like the money wasn’t a big deal and the time it might take to recoup the loss was even less important.

  To someone like her, born into and of wealth, these things were unimportant.

  He supposed his own life reflected a similar privilege, but his mother had always insisted that he respect every penny he earned and made sure that he deserved that penny. Clearly, Tiffani’s parents didn’t share similar values.

  “I’m sure,” he answered dryly.

  “Don’t think I’m good for it?” she quipped with a wry smile.

  He sighed, then said, “I know you have the money, if that’s what you mean.” He reached for his suit jacket and shrugged into it, adjusting his cuffs at the end of the sleeves.

  He walked past her to reach for his phone which was sitting on the table by the bedroom door. He spent a moment checking the time, his messages, and his emails. There was a text from Ethan, Michael’s business partner for years.

  Don’t forget about the meeting. Big construction project. Don’t be late.

  Michael didn’t bother to respond. Ethan was good at drumming up business and lately it was about the next high-rise apartment. These luxury apartments were on schedule to be completed within a year of construction and they were already starting to sell it to future tenants. Michael had been tied up with procuring the funds for the project and had left the location and the details to Ethan. The business briefing would go over the entirety of the deal.

  “Are you really that upset about the money?” Tiffani asked when she saw Michael checking his phone. She complained a lot about him checking his phone.

  He shoved his cell into his pockets and turned to face her. “Tiffani.”

  “It’s just money. We have oodles of it, and we should enjoy that. It’s a waste to leave it sitting in some bank somewhere while you work endlessly to put more in the bank. Live a little.”

  For a moment, he considered that. Live a little. He thought about taking a trip to Norway, to Egypt, to India. He thought about how the two of them could experience the culture of the places, maybe even do some charity work there—

  Then he thought of Tiffani.

  If he brought up a vacation the first thing out of her mouth would be Paris. She would want to go shopping. She would want more shoes, more clothes. Enough to fill a dozen closets, each big enough to sleep in. Things she might wear once and never again, or maybe not ever.

  Tiffani loved wealth and fashion and she didn’t seem to have a care in the world. When they first got together, he’d loved that about her. Her freedom and whimsicality.

  “I’m sorry, Tiffani, but I have a meeting this morning,” he said again, then glanced at his wristwatch. “In fact, Ethan should be here soon to pick me up.”

  Before he’d finished explaining, she was already rolling her eyes. “Ew. I wish you would find another partner.”

  He sighed. This would be the second of their most frequent arguments. Ethan. “Tiffani, we’ve been over this. We’ve been partners for years.”

  “I don’t care,” she told him, looking into the mirror to check her makeup. She was still dressed in her night clothes, a silk top with lace lining the edges and a matching pair of tiny shorts. “He’s smarmy. He’s like a used car salesman, all smiles and grease and no substance whatsoever.”

  “That’s unkind.”

  She straightened and turned back to look at him. “He’s coldhearted, Michael. Vicious. Ruthless. That old man has no morals.”

  “He’s motivated and he learned everything he knows from my father. Business is war.”

  She shook her head and for just a second, she looked serious. It wasn’t often that she had strong opinions on anything other than fashion, but on occasion they floated to the surface. “It doesn’t have to be. But Ethan wants it to be. The man is cruel, Michael. And not just in business.”

  Then she shrugged her delicate shoulders and walked over to her closet. They didn’t share closet space, thank goodness. She started rummaging through her multitude of expensive clothes, pulling out a dress and holding it up against her smooth skin before tossing it on the bed to grab another.

  He frowned but didn’t comment further on Ethan. “Enjoy your day, Tiffani. I have to go.”

  Before she could argue further with him, he turned and left, heading downstairs to the front door. When he left the house, he found a limo parked outside already waiting for him. The back door popped open and Ethan leaned out, grinning at him.

  “I was worried she was holding you captive and that I’d have to plot a rescue mission!”

  Michael cracked a smile. “Not far from the truth. Move over and let’s get out of here.”

  Ethan did as he was asked, giving Michael enough room to slide in next to him, pulling the door closed after.

  “Has the future missus been giving you hell this morning?” Ethan guessed with that same cheeky grin.

  Michael took half a moment to attempt to overlay Tiffani’s comments on Ethan’s face. A face he was so familiar with. Twenty years ago, when Michael was just a kid, Ethan was on the board with his father. Ethan came to family dinners and gave Michael his first cigar. When Michael’s father died, Ethan was there. He comforted Michael’s mother and made it a point to be active in Michael’s life. In fact, Ethan ran most of the company while Michael was away getting his degree and when Michael came back, Ethan gladly handed it over.

  Those memories just didn’t match up with what Tiffani had said. Michael couldn’t find it in himself to believe those evils of Ethan. Whatever they might have been born from, it wasn’t the man’s heart.

  “I know you don’t approve,” Michael said.

  Ethan laughed. “I don’t think she’s good enough for my boy, no,” he conceded, but he was still smiling. “But I can see why you like her. Quite a woman.”

  When Ethan wiggled his salt and pepper eyebrows Michael shook his head. “You’re a crazy old man, you know it?”

  “Old, maybe, but still a man and a man appreciate the qualities your fiancé has.” Ethan sat back and pulled his briefcase onto his lap. “I just don’t always appreciate her attitude.”

  Michael didn’t comment. Lately, he was beginning to wonder about Tiffani’s attitude, as Ethan put it. She was so… frivolous. It wasn’t a word he liked to use, but he was struggling to find another one that suited her.

  That bothered him.

  Michael was grateful when Ethan pulled out several papers, including contracts and a map of an area with the high rise overlaying it. “Enough about women. Women are confusing,” Ethan told him. “Let’s talk business.”

  “Fewer questions,” Michael agreed. “Is this the new site?”

  Ethan nodded. “It’s in a prime location. The area is a shit hole to begin with, so we’ll be doing a real service to the c
ommunity. Transform this bad part of town into something beautiful. Everyone will love it.”

  Michael took a moment to examine the map. It covered a large area of a dozen or so buildings. “We’ll have to clear all of these out – are they occupied?”

  “Not for long.”

  When Michael raised an eyebrow, waiting for elaboration, Ethan gestured to the green lines on the map, making up a large number of squares.

  “Each of these outlined in green are closed deals.” Ethan traced his stubby finger along the rows of green lines. “The yellow are negotiations,” he continued, pointing to just two yellow squares. “Once we’ve closed, we can move forward.”

  “What about the red square here?” Michael asked, pointing to a small square across the street from what looked to be a park. Michael frowned. “And what about this? A park? Should we really be paving over a park to put up a parking structure?”

  Ethan’s jaw twitched, but he easily waved Michael’s concerns off. “Don’t worry about the park. It’s a miserable little place, full of junkies. Kids don’t play there anymore, because their parents think it’s dangerous. People don’t even walk their dogs there for fear that they’ll step on used needles. Not the kind of place you want to leave hanging around.”

  The news saddened Michael at the same time it relieved him. He didn’t like being a party to tearing down parks or public spaces that were important to the community. But it was hard to justify keeping a place like that, a safe haven for the worst parts of humanity.

  “Still, I’m surprised we have permission to move forward,” Michael pushed. “The city usually likes to hold tight to little things like that.”

  “Don’t worry yourself over it. I’ve already gotten the go ahead. A few donations and a clear explanation for how we’re going to transform this community, and we’re good to go.”

  Michael left it there, nodding to show that he’d understood. “I’ve got one hundred tenants lined up to sign leases as soon as we open and investors like the idea of the lounge on the first floor. You know how expensive parking is in the city, so it was easy to sell investors on the parking structure. They’re thrilled. Our ad campaign is running strong and I don’t see any problems drumming up tenants for the opening.

  “Perfect.”

  Ethan was about to roll the map back up and shove it into his briefcase, but Michael stopped him. “Wait. You never explained what the red square is.”

  For a long moment, Ethan was silent. Silent, and a little annoyed. There were red splashes across his cheeks and his eyes had narrowed slightly. He cleared his throat finally and said, “That is the Willems Family Restaurant, a little hole in the wall diner that has some… local popularity.”

  “What’s the problem?”

  “They won’t sell.” Ethan’s tone was sharp, his displeasure showing in the severe lines starting at the corners of his mouth. They deepened when he frowned, and he was seriously frowning now.

  Michael raised an eyebrow at that. “Are you telling me that you couldn’t negotiate favorable terms?” He was half teasing, half incredulous. Ethan’s bread and butter was making deals and it was unusual that he couldn’t get what he wanted out of them in the end.

  “The fight isn’t over yet,” Ethan said tightly. “I’ve got a few tricks up my sleeve still.”

  “But we can’t move ahead without them selling,” Michael guessed. His eyes scanned the map again, looking at where the red square sat amongst the rest. Smack dab in the middle. He pointed to it. “There’s no way to build the complex around them if they choose not to sell.”

  Ethan sat back against his seat with a sigh. “Yes, I know. The Willems are difficult. Stubborn. One of those mom and pop shops that thinks their world is the only important one, you know the kind.”

  Michael nodded absently. “Yes, I do. People can’t see the forest for the trees.”

  “Exactly. They’re so busy living in the past that they can’t see how horrible their neighborhood has become! But don’t you worry about it. I’ll make sure they understand what’s at stake.”

  “Perhaps we should do that today.”

  Ethan’s eyebrows crawled up his forehead, causing deep wrinkles to etch themselves into his skin. “What’s that now?”

  “Let’s have lunch there and have a word with this Willems family,” Michael suggested. “I can introduce myself and we can show them that we’re doing the community a favor, and by that extension, doing them a favor, too. I’m sure they’ll come around.”

  Ethan looked for a moment like he might argue, but a second later, he said, “That’s a perfect plan. Show them we aren’t the demons they’ve painted us to be.”

  Michael was confident that once the family realized this construction project wasn’t the end of the world, they would be happy to be a part of something good.

  3

  Michael

  “ Y

  ou’re telling me we don’t even have the building site secured yet?”

  That was Nathaniel Drover, an older man with sallow cheeks and beady little eyes tucked beneath two caterpillar eyebrows that were constantly pulled together. He’d been part of the board since the beginning but had never gotten along well with Michael’s father.

  “We will,” Ethan was quick to assure Nathaniel and the rest of the room.

  The board convened monthly to talk about how the company was proceeding. Most of their authority was symbolic now that Michael was officially the CEO, but they could veto certain enterprises if they believed it was counterproductive to the company or the company’s culture. Michael answered to the board and while he had autonomy, he could always feel them creeping down his neck.

  “And if you don’t?” Emilia Lawrence was a beautiful woman in her sixties with a strict expression and a severe updo for her silver hair. She was as serious as she was attractive, and her age had only added to that. Her sharpness meant that it was important to consider her. “We could lose millions in investments, not to mention our reputation!”

  “We will,” Ethan repeated.

  Ethan and Emilia had never gotten along well, usually ending up on opposite sides of any debate. Now was no exception.

  “You really shouldn’t make promises you can’t keep, Ethan, darling.” Her tone was sympathetic—and mocking.

  Ethan’s eyes narrowed and red splotches began appearing on his cheeks. Before he could shoot back something that would inevitably start a fight, Michael stepped in.

  “We are always concerned about our reputation,” Michael said to the board. “That’s why we meticulously plan our moves – and why we’re meeting with the Willems this afternoon to continue our negotiations. We’ll ensure that everyone receives favorable terms and that the project moves forward.”

  Emilia looked hesitant, as though she might offer something else, but ultimately decided to hold her tongue. She had always respected Michael’s father and that respect transferred to the younger Roth after his death.

  “Until then,” Michael continued with a small nod towards Emilia, “we’ll continue to move forward with the plans. Our investors are on board. The construction crew has been hired. We even have tenants ready to commit once the project has completed. This will be one of Roth’s many successes, have no fear of that.”

  The rest of the meeting took minutes. Some notifications about smaller projects, quarterly projections, and stock options. Nothing that constituted a surprise. But Michael was definitely relieved when it was over. He was also eager to get to this little shop to talk things over with the Willems. He was sure that it was only a matter of explaining things to get them to flip. They were making a generous offer and that neighborhood was trash.

  This was best for everyone.

  Ethan patted the backs of board members and sipped coffee in the corner as Michael placed several papers in his briefcase, going over in his head how he would approach the Willems situation. As he was getting ready to leave, he was stopped by Emilia.

  “Your father would be
proud of you.”

  Michael ignored the familiar twinge of sadness that came with the mention of his father. He’d been dead for years now, but there was always a sense of emptiness that filled Michael whenever he thought of his father.

  He should be here with me, he thought.

  “Thank you, Ms. Lawrence. That’s very kind.”

  She waved him off, her long fingers only barely showing signs of aging. “Emilia, I insist.”

  “Emilia.”

  “But I do want to discuss your partner.” She motioned towards where Ethan was standing, laughing with a board member.

  Michael raised an eyebrow in question. “I know you and Ethan don’t always see eye to eye on things,” he began, which was a huge understatement.

  She snorted indelicately in response. “That’s a kind way to put it. But our disagreements aren’t really the concern here.”

  “What is, if you don’t mind my asking.”

  Hesitating a moment, she finally said, “I just want to make sure that whatever decisions you make are your decisions, not… someone else’s.”

  “Like the board’s?” Michael teased.

  She laughed ruefully. “Oh, touché. And that’s fair. But just as you keep this board in line, make sure no one else is clouding your judgement. This is your company, after all.”

  Emilia didn’t dally after that. She gave Ethan a frosty look, then marched out of the boardroom. Ethan made a snide comment that had several board members laughing, but Michael didn’t catch what it was. He was more concerned with Emilia’s warning.

  Was she really concerned that Ethan would do anything that wasn’t in the best interest of the company? He knew they didn’t get along, but that seemed pretty extreme…

  Michael didn’t have time to linger on it. He had lunch plans and he wasn’t interested in missing the opportunity to make good on his promise to the board.

  The Willems Family Restaurant was a tiny building. Two stories, the second looking like it was a living space. Out front was a large sign, wooden instead of neon, that advertised comfort food and good company. There was street and alley parking only, and across the street was a park.