The Arrangement Book 6

XAVIER

“Is this really a business meeting?” Al asked me. “Looks more like a party to me.”

“This is just how Europeans do business,” I told him.

The night was still young. The beautiful Belgian countryside around us was draped in darkness, providing a mystique to the entire event.

But the venue shined.

The massive mansion before us was lit up like the moon, and the huge fleet of luxury sports cars parked outside were like stars in the night sky.

Auto enthusiasts and other sponsors mingled around the cars. Servers dressed in tailored Zegna suits floated from one group to another, providing flutes of champagne and assorted cocktails.

“Would you like one, sir?”

I turned to eye the sparkling golden liquid on the waiter’s platter.

“No thanks,” I said.

My surroundings reminded me of my time in Tokyo. It was strangely similar to the underground racing scene. We were gathered there to celebrate fast cars, after all.

But instead of adrenaline junkies and gearheads, everyone at the party was a suit who had probably never been behind the wheel of a race car before.

Instead of mystery drugs and cheap alcohol and energy drinks, I had a selection of the finest liquors in the world to choose from.

Radically different…but still eerily the same.

And whether I was in an underground parking lot in Tokyo, or outside of a historic mansion in Belgium, there was no denying one fact…

This was a dangerous mix.

Both of my vices were being handed to me—literally on a silver platter.

And while I could still remember the highs of racing and drugs, they didn’t hold the same allure anymore. The call of the dark, seductive voice in my head had gone silent.

Back then I’d wanted to escape my shitty situation.

My marriage had been on rocky ground.

I’d been a hopeless alcoholic.

A practically brain-dead adrenaline junky.

But there was nothing about my life right now that I wanted to escape. I loved heading my own company. I loved being the master of my impulses and desires.

But most of all, I loved being with my wife and kids.

“Let’s close this deal and get out of here,” I told Al.

“Agreed.”

My partner and I set out into the throng of people, in search of one Yorick Vercruysse.

He was the chancellor of the European Racing League…and the man we had to convince to propel X-Label into the spotlight.

“Some whiskey?” a waitress asked us. I was about to refuse when she continued on: “Courtesy of the O’Malleys.”

“The O’Malleys?” Al asked. “As in, O’Malley Irish Whiskey, O’Malleys?”

“That’s right,” she confirmed.

Al took a glass for himself and handed one to me. “Let’s scope out the competition,” he said.

I swirled the golden-amber liquid around in my glass.

The O’Malleys were famous in the liquor world.

Practically whiskey royalty.

And if their whiskey was at the party, that meant they were there for the same reason we were.

The Grand Prix sponsorship.

I took a sip, letting the whiskey linger on my tongue before it slid down my throat…

Al and I looked at each other at the same time.

“This is…” Al shook his head.

“Surprisingly bland.” I grinned. “This is the famous O’Malley whiskey?”

“I see some people can’t appreciate quality,” an unfamiliar voice said.

I turned to find a middle-aged couple standing behind us, an arrogant tilt to their upturned noses. They were dressed to the nines. His tailored suit and her flowing dress made them look like they’d stepped out from a different century.

“Quality?” I took another sip. “It’s dull. One note. This is practically the white bread of whiskeys.”

“The younger generations these days have no appreciation for the classics,” the woman said. Her coiffed hair and long, dangling pearl earrings swayed as she shook her head.

“This whiskey has been around longer than you’ve been alive,” the man added, leaning heavily on his black-lacquered cane.

“And I can see that it hasn’t evolved past the middle ages.” I put my unfinished glass on the platter of a passing waiter. “With whiskey like that, I wonder how the O’Malleys have even stayed in business.”

The middle-aged couple gave a final scoff before turning around and disappearing into the crowd.

Al sighed, finishing the rest of his whiskey. “Did you have to be that harsh?” he asked me.

“Harsh? I was just being critical.”

“Uh-huh.” Al’s eyes lit up and he nodded over my shoulder.

I turned and saw the man we were looking for.

Yorick was dressed in a crisp white suit, a thick scarf of fox fur hanging low around his neck.

I grinned, a hunter finding his prey.

It’s time to work.

ANGELA

“And how is the Chavoshi event coming along?” I asked.

Zoe took a sip from her empty teacup, pretending to enjoy the imaginary tea. “It’s going great,” she said. “All of the accommodations to Isfahan have been booked. I’m even in negotiations to host the party outside of the Ali Qapu Palace.”

Leah came by and very graciously poured more imaginary tea into my cup.

“That’s amazing, Zoe!” I smiled over the tiny playhouse table at her, grateful for such an amazing business partner. “I got an email from Mrs. Azari, and she told me that—”

“Cupcakes are ready!” Ace said, walking inside with a tray of oven-warm chocolate chip sweets.

Zoe gasped, clapping with enthusiasm.

“How wonderful! Thanks so much, little chef.” She gave Ace a kiss on the cheek.

“I’m a scientist,” Ace asserted, a red tinge to his cheeks.

“Are these your latest experiments?” Zoe giggled.

My son nodded before retreating from the playhouse, trying not to trip over his oversized apron.

Apparently, in the wise words of little Ace, baking was pretty much a science. I guess the exact measurements and heating time of the ingredients appealed to him.

“You’re going to need some real drinks for those,” Leah assured us. “They’re super gooey.” She darted away to the kitchen in a rush.

“Some real drinks, hm?” Zoe murmured, sipping at her empty teacup. “Too bad, this tea is delicious.”

Zoe and I watched them go.

“How sweet,” she said.

I laughed. “Sorry about this, by the way.” I gestured around to the cramped children’s playhouse. “If I left them alone during our meeting, who knows what they’d get up to.”

“Angela Knight. Full-time mom and part-time event planner extraordinaire,” Zoe mused. “It’s definitely one of the more unique meetings I’ve had.”

I took a bite of a cupcake, thinking back on the past few years with Zoe.

Ever since Leah and Ace were born, she’d really stepped up and taken ownership of our event-planning business.

She’d practically been running it by herself for the past few years.

And while I appreciated being able to focus on my family…it made me a little uncomfortable.

The past few events had pretty much been solely Zoe’s work. It seemed like the A in ~A-Z Events~ was becoming unnecessary.

“I guess parenting does look a little bit like a job, doesn’t it?” I asked, laughing.

“Are you kidding me? You’ve got the hardest job in the world, girl.” Zoe picked at one of Ace’s cupcakes. “I don’t know how you manage to do both… Well actually I do. You’ve got bags underneath your eyes.”

“It’s worth it, though,” I said. “Leah and Ace are the lights of my life. Even if those lights keep me awake at night.”

We broke out into laughter. As I talked with Zoe, I realized just how starved I’d been for company.

It wasn’t that I was tired of spending time with my children.

But hanging out with a friend was a breath of fresh air. Even if it was in a cramped playhouse for kids.

Maybe I should set up a lunch date with some friends...

I scoffed at myself.

With what time, Angela?

“A family, huh?” Zoe sighed wistfully. “I wonder when I’m going to meet my Mr. Right.”

“Want me to set you up with someone?” I teased.

“Hmm…” Zoe put a finger to her chin. “Well, I saw someone at DaVinci’s party.”

“Oh?” I perked up, instantly interested.

Zoe grinned devilishly. “Your oldest brother looked kinda cute.”

“Oh, yuck!” I screamed.

Zoe laughed so hard that tears leaked out of her eyes. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding,” she said.

“Uh-huh…” I eyed her suspiciously.

“Anyway,” she said, trying to refocus our meeting. “You got an email from Mrs. Azari?”

“Right,” I said, trying to shoo away the mental image of Zoe hooking up with Danny. “Mrs. Azari sent me an updated guest list. We’re going to have to increase the—”

“Drinks are here!” Leah called cheerily. She’d poured some pink cream soda into our fancy champagne flutes. “Would you like anything else?”

“No, sweetheart, thank you,” I said.

Leah smiled proudly before walking out again.

I turned back to Zoe. “As I was saying, we’re going to have to increase the—”

The shatter of breaking glass echoed out from the kitchen.

“Mom!” Leah called. “Ace dropped the china!”

“You bumped into me!” Ace shouted back.

I sighed, getting up to go make sure neither of them were hurt.

I squeezed out from underneath the tiny door, but before I could make my way across the yard, Zoe placed a hand on my shoulder.

“I think it might be better if you just focused on your kids,” she told me. “I can handle this. Honestly.”

I could see the concern in her eyes, and I could tell she was just trying to help. But those were the words I’d been dreading to hear.

Still, I couldn’t deny that it made sense.

“Okay,” I said, trying to hide my disappointment. “Thanks.”

I pushed on toward the kitchen and found Leah and Ace standing off to the side, a guilty look on their faces.

The fine china was shattered.

There was nothing to do but pick up the broken pieces.

XAVIER

“We at X-Label respect the classics,” I said, bringing the presentation to a close. Al and I had given Yorick a comprehensive breakdown of our company and our financials.

But now wasn’t the time for the nitty-gritty of daily operations. We had to appeal to the chancellor as a brand.

I looked around at the grand ballroom. Partygoers mingled and danced while multimillion-dollar deals were made in the same room.

At Yorick’s estate, business was pleasure.

And I had to make sure that partnering with X-Label would be the most damned pleasurable thing he’d ever experienced.

“We understand that we wouldn’t be where we are without standing on the shoulders of giants,” Al went on. “The Isabellas. The Macallans. The Dalmores.”

“But we represent the future.” I leaned closer to Yorick, clinking my glass of X-Label against his. “The Brussels Grand Prix attracts more and more young people every year. Attendance is growing exponentially. And what better way to appeal to them than a hot young brand like ours?”

“A good whiskey might be timeless, but the consumer isn’t,” Al said, thundering the point home. “Tastes shift and evolve as the years go by. And to survive, so do we.”

“X-Label is the new generation,” I finished. “And we’ll get your stock racing faster than the F1 cars at the Grand Prix.”

Yorick stroked his fox scarf, an impressed smile on his face.

“I cannot lie, you are beginning to sway me.” His thick Belgian accent added to the gravity of the moment.

I held my breath.

“But alas, I cannot make a decision right this moment.” He raised his glass and downed the rest of our whiskey. “You two are in hot contention with the O’Malleys for this spot. We will have a decision for you both soon.”

The O’Malleys? We’re competing with THAT horrible whiskey?

Before I could voice my objections, Yorick nodded at someone over my shoulder: “Ah, here they are.”

I turned and found the middle-aged couple I’d pissed off earlier standing across the ballroom floor. They looked as pompous as ever, but this time I knew why.

They weren’t just some snobby rich couple.

They were Sam and Sally O’Malley: the twin brother and sister overlords of Irish whiskey. And by the way they were glaring at me…

I’d just made enemies with two very powerful people.

Gulp.