Damon missed the ocean.
His arms felt like overboiled noodles barely dragging him through the electric blue, chlorinated water in the Brooklyn athletic club up the street from his brother's house. He longed for the tumult, the capriciousness, the wild beauty of water deeper and wider than this tame rectangle marked in feet and inches. He wanted fathoms so deep he was not sure when he would reach the bottom, or if he ever could.
Damon had lost count of how many laps this made. When he was a kid, he had so much pent-up energy, he couldn't focus and ended up in fights. Just as doctors started recommending medication, his father got him into football. And basketball. And swimming. Physical activity had been his drug of choice ever since. It focused him, centred him, in a way nothing else ever did.
He hauled himself onto the edge of the pool, chest heaving and arms trembling. He could tell he haven't been training. He stopped counting laps, but he knew he could usually do more than he did this morning. He and Enzo just got back two days ago, but he was already pining for the open waters of the Atlantic down at Tybee Island, where he had a beachside property he didn't get to use nearly enough.
The pool door opened, and Enzo strode over to him, dressed in gym shorts and a T-shirt. He sat down beside Damon, taking off his running shoes and socks, dangling his legs in the pool.
"I figured I better come make sure you hadn't drowned." He hooked a towel around the back of his neck. "Man, you have been in there forever."
"Have I?" Damon snatched a towel from a nearby stack, wiping water away from his eyes and face.
"I knew you would need to burn off some steam after that meeting with Grayson Gilbert." Hesitation settled on Enzo's face. "Are we pulling out of negotiations?"
Damon considered his partner and best friend, holding his words for a few more moments. This was never meant to be permanent. They were twenty-one years old when we started the Mystic journey. They said they would give it five years to see if it succeeded, and it had surpassed all their expectations. Helped more people and made more money than either of them ever anticipated. But it was never supposed to be forever. They were both eager to find a partnering business that shared their values and could take Mystic Corp to the next level, but they couldn't compromise on commitments they made to the people all over the world who bought into this vision. Who had, in many ways, staked their futures on it.
"I'm kind of relieved Grayson showed his hand yesterday," Damon said.
"Well, he didn't as much show it as couldn't hide it when you started probing."
Damon pressed Grayson on keeping indigenous workers, on making sure that Augustine Enterprises wouldn't use employees from other countries to cut costs since restoring economic power to the people in developing nations was the whole point. Not just amassing more economic power for themselves. Grayson's polite mask fell away, and the ruthless businessman showed the ugly mercenary truth. Damon knew it was about the bottom line for them, but that just meat they might not be the right company to partner with.
"So are we done with Augustine?" Enzo tried to hide the disappointment in his voice, but Damon heard it.
"I'm done with Grayson Gilbert," Damon corrected. "I still think Augustine Enterprises could be the right partner."
"But Grayson—"
"Grayson's last name is Gilbert, not Whitmore." Damon stood and dried off. "Aaron is the future of Augustine Enterprises. Him, I will stay at the table with."
"If he had been there yesterday like originally planned," Enzo said, "things would have gone differently."
"Yeah, I think Grayson thought so, too. That is why he pushed to still meet even though Aaron got held up in Hong Kong."
"So what do we do, Damon? We have other offers."
"I'm not ready to abandon Augustine yet. I think we wait. We made our position perfectly clear. Let's see what their next move will be."
"Sounds good." Enzo stood. "I'm going to shower. You coming?"
"Soon. I want to get some steam first."
Stripped down to just a towel, Damon leaned back against the wall in the steam room. He drew a deep eucalyptus-infused breath, letting the steam soothe the muscles he stretched to the limit. The door opened, and he closed his eyes. He was not in the mood for some near-naked guy who enjoyed a good, steamy chat. Damon heard him settled on the other end of the bench, but just slumped his shoulders against the wall, hoping he would take the hint.
"Funny meeting you here."
Damon's eyes snapped open when he recognized that voice. Not much surprised him anymore, so he was not sure why Aaron Whitmore in his steam room should.
"Whitmore, you are quite resourceful, aren't you?" Damon leaned his head back against the wall, but remained alert. "I know you aren't a member here, so to what do I owe this dubious honour?"
Aaron grinned at him through the scented steam.
"I heard things didn't go well yesterday with Grayson," Aaron cut right through the steam and the small talk.
"If you would say Hiroshima 'didn't go well'—Damon crossed his arms over his chest—"then, yes, that's how I would characterize yesterday's meeting with Gilbert."
"Look, I know he can be a bit of an asshole."
Damon opened one eye, cocked one brow.
"Okay." Aaron chuckled, settling back against the wall. "He is a total dick, but what if I can guarantee you deal only with me?"
Damon leaned forward, elbows to his knees, and gave Aaron his most candid look.
"Only you can't make many guarantees right now, can you? Not with things about to become so unstable at Augustine."
Speculation narrowed Aaron's eyes.
"What have you heard?"
"It is not what I've heard. It is what is obvious to anyone paying attention." Damon poured a portion of eucalyptus into a small pot against the wall, intensifying the scent. "Your father is at the end of the road, and when he retires, the transition of power won't go as smoothly as he had hoped. Am I right?"
A muscle ticked in Aaron's jaw, but his face gave Damon no other indication that he was even close.
"I propose that we take a back-channel approach," Aaron finally said.
So he is going to ignore what I said, Damon thought, only confirming that he was right.
"Back-channel?" Damon leaned into the sweating wall. "What are you thinking?"
"I need it to look like you are walking away from this deal." Aaron lifted one brow and one corner of his mouth. "But don't. Don't talk to anyone else. Wait for me to get things settled at Augustine, and then once I'm in charge, we resume talks."
"Where do you expect opposition to come from at Augustine?"
"Everywhere." Aaron scooted forward, until he was barely on the bench. "But don't worry. I'm ready for whatever Grayson and anyone else throws at me."
"You sure about that?"
"Always." Aaron leaned back, stretching his long legs out in front of him and linking his hands behind his head, his casual posture not fooling Damon. "So what will it take for you to agree to this? We can't put any of this in writing. It has to stay off the books, but I trust you."
"Why do you trust me?" Aaron could trust him, but Damon was interested to know how he figured that out so quickly.
"Let's just say I never go into a deal without knowing who I'm dealing with."
Damon had heard that anyone working with Aaron should expect to have their past and present excavated because he could dig so deeply.
"So what will it take?"
Damon loved it when opportunities fell into his lap like apples. He and Enzo had already decided they would wait for Augustine's next move, that they would stick with Augustine for now. He was getting something he wanted in exchange for something he was already prepared to give Aaron. It was great. Damon also loved that as prepared as Aaron liked to think he was, and as much as he liked to think he had dug up on him, he was about to take Aaron completely by surprise.
"We will stay in play if you give me Elena's Gilbert number."
Aaron just blinked at Damon for a few seconds, until the request registered. A frown settled between his eyebrows. His mouth tightened.
"I don't think that—"
"That's it. Not much to ask."
"Elena?" Aaron's frown went deeper if possible. "Elena Gilbert?"
"About this tall." Damon brought his hand up as high as his nose. "Legs that go on forever. I think you know her."
"Look, Salvatore, I get it." Aaron grinned at him. "Elena is beautiful, obviously. And lots of guys—"
"I don't care about lots of guys." Damon's voice came out harder than he expected. Obviously harder than Aaron did, too, judging by the sharp look he levelled at him. "You give me that number, or today we start calling all the other companies prepared to meet our terms."
"That doesn't make any conventional business sense."
"Says the man ambushing me in a steam room to do business wearing nothing but a towel. Neither of us got where we are being conventional. We both know what we want, and go after it."
"And you want Elena?"
"Obviously." Damon didn't sprinkle sugar on it. He didn't explain it to Aaron because it was none of his damn business what he wanted with Elena.
"I wouldn't have pegged you—"
"Trying to peg me would be a mistake, Whitmore. Waste of your time and insulting to me."
Aaron stood up, gripping the ends of his towel together at one hip.
"I will get you the number, but let me warn you." Aaron turned at the door. "I know Elena seems tough, but she has been through a lot. Guys have hurt her in the past."
"Like you did?" The question was a dart Damon aimed through the scented air.
Aaron might punch him if he could. Only the business they still had pending, the twenty pounds and couple of inches Damon had on him, probably stopped him.
"Yeah, like I did," Aaron finally responded. "Elena and I grew up together, and dating her was a mistake, but we are still friends. She is not an easy woman to know."
Damon hoped the smile he gave Aaron didn't come off as cocky, because right now he was feeling pretty satisfied with himself.
"Which is why I need your help."
"One more thing, Salvatore." Aaron angled his head down, looking at Damon from beneath a slash of dark brows. "Because of my, shall we say research, I think I know what you want to do next."
"Next?" Damon focused on keeping the line of his shoulders even and relaxed. "Not sure what you mean."
"One of the things I admire about you most is that you, like me, actually want to change the world, and are foolish enough to think you can do it. You understand that even as much good as Mystic Corp is doing, it is sometimes like blowing on a wildfire."
Aaron pressed his back to the door, pushing it ajar and releasing some of the steamy air trapped in the room.
"You need to work from inside, to be in a position to influence those corrupt bastards leading these countries and making it hard for their own people to thrive."
"Let's say your right," Damon said. "What does any of that have to do with me and Elena?"
"I know what you want next, and you can't have scandal if you are going to get it. Elena draws scandal like bees to honey. I'm just saying you may not be able to have both."
"Aaron, your father recently told me that I remind him of himself," Damon said. "I would like to test that theory. How does your father respond when someone says he can't have something he wants badly?"
A lopsided grin skewed Aaron's lips. He turned to leave, tossing his last words over his shoulder.
"I will get you that number."