Chapter 4

Chapter Four

" H ow did things go with the Wallace woman? Make any progress with the acquisition?"

Cooper nodded and handed his father a strong, black, sugarless coffee, just the way Eric Vance liked it. "We met. I'm making inroads."

Cooper hid a cynical grin behind his coffee mug, still unable to fathom what had happened last night.

"What's that supposed to mean?" A deep frown marred Eric's brow. "Is she ready to sell? Because that's all I'm interested in, the bottom line. That woman's been the bane of my existence for the last twelve months and if you're not up for the job I'll find someone who is."

His father glowered for extra effect, drank the scalding coffee in one go, yanked his leather director's chair out from behind his desk, and plopped into it, his scowl deepening by the second.

"Rather than scare her off by barging in there, I'm taking a softer approach," Unlike you , Cooper thought, but wisely kept that gem to himself.

Thankfully, he was nothing like his dad in the business arena, precisely why he had to get out of this company, the sooner the better.

"Taking a soft approach is a waste of time," Eric snapped, grabbing the nearest object, which happened to be a gold pen, and tapping it relentlessly against the edge of his desk. "That damn woman is stringing us along, hoping to get more cash out of us."

Cooper stiffened. Though he hardly knew Ariel, she was nothing like the mercenary vulture his dad had made her out to be. From the top of her mussed curls to the bottom of her pale blue painted toenails, she'd appeared genuine, an artist doing it tough but with a clear goal: keep her gallery open in memory of its original owner, a family member.

Seeing her passion for the gallery, hearing her articulate her motivation for not selling, had been honourable, but where did that leave him?

He couldn't weaken, no matter how much he admired Ariel and her convictions. He had dreams of his own to build, starting with obtaining the very property she was trying to save.

"I'm handling it," Cooper said, avoiding his father's assessing stare by striding to the huge glass windows overlooking Flinders Street Station and the Art Centre Spire behind it.

He loved Melbourne, the hip, cosmopolitan feel of the city, the multicultural restaurants, the architecture. He'd acquired and developed many buildings since completing his MBA and each completed deal had brought him immense satisfaction.

Then why the slight niggle that obtaining the last prime piece of real estate in trendy Brunswick Street, Fitzroy, wouldn't be the be-all and end-all he'd first thought?

His father's sinister chuckle didn't reassure him. "You're handling it , huh? Well, take as long as you like. I'm not the one who proposed some stupid deal in the first place."

Cooper slowly clenched and unclenched his fists, loathing how his father baited him on a daily basis, hating how their working relationship had come to this.

"We've talked about my plans at length. It's way past time I branched out on my own."

Eric snickered, his disdain obvious. "It's a dumb idea. We can be a team here and when I retire, this whole company is yours."

With Eric a fit fifty-five, retirement would be a long way off, meaning Cooper would be kowtowing to his tyrannical father for the foreseeable future. Unfathomable.

"It's time I left and we both know it."

Eric's eyes narrowed to cold, hard slits, his mutinous expression reminiscent of every time Cooper had disagreed with him since he'd turned ten. "You signed a two year contract when you first started and you've been here less than a year. I could make things tough for you."

Cooper clamped down on the urge to shout. They'd had this same conversation every day for the last week, ever since his dad had failed to buy the gallery for the umpteenth time and Cooper had seized on an idea as his way out.

"Cut the empty threats, Dad. I seal the Brunswick deal, you release me from my contract so I can set up my company. You agreed, remember?"

Eric rolled his eyes, like Cooper was behaving like a petulant child. "Of course I remember. What do you think your old man is, stupid?" He steepled his fingers. "I've had enough of your brilliant ideas to last me a lifetime, so why don't you take a seat and bring me up to speed with the Docklands deal."

Gritting his teeth, Cooper turned away from the window and took a seat opposite his dad, who glared at him with perpetual anger. They'd been so close once. Bouncing jokes off each other, getting a kick out of the same stuff: football, old Western films, sailing. The Vance guys on top of their game.

His dad used to laugh a lot back then, thriving on the thrill of an acquisition, sharing his success with him, enjoying a quiet celebratory beer together after work. Fishing holidays, guy weekends-away. Then Cooper had joined the firm and started to forge his own success in the business arena and his dad had changed. Not in a good way.

"The Docklands deal is almost completed," Cooper said. "The contracts are with the legal department as we speak. So once I've got Ariel Wallace's go ahead and I wrap up the Brunswick Street deal, I'm done."

For a second, something akin to anguish flashed in his father's eyes, but before Cooper could fathom it Eric blinked and his dad's latent anger quickly replaced anything Cooper might've imagined.

Eric's upper lip quirked in a sneer. "You'll never make it on your own."

Cooper stood, keeping a tight leash on a host of fiery retorts, and headed for the door and the sanctity of his own office.

"We'll see, Dad. We'll see," he said, more determined than ever to get the deal done with Ariel Wallace.