Preston studied her.
She clearly knew the deal.
For the first time he considered that she might actually belong there.
But instead of asking, he tried to reassert control.
“You with the buyer’s diligence team?”
“Something like that.”
“Name?”
“Naomi Carter.”
Nothing.
He had heard the name.
Of course he had.
But Naomi Carter appeared in business publications infrequently and often in conservative corporate clothing, hair shorter or tied back, sometimes glasses.
Preston’s mind had already decided who the woman in front of him was.
New information had to fight that decision.
It lost.
“Right,” he said.
Naomi tilted her head.
“Right?”
“The CEO.”
“Yes.”
Avery snorted.
Preston smiled.
“You’re Naomi Carter.”
“Yes.”
He glanced toward the others.
“Of course.”
More laughter.
This time Naomi understood completely.
They thought she was joking.
A man with gray hair near the cocktail table muttered:
“Everybody’s somebody tonight.”
Naomi looked toward him.
Then back to Preston.
“Would you like to verify?”
Preston shrugged.
“I’d like you to stop wasting everyone’s time.”
Naomi felt the first flicker of anger.
Not enough to show.
She reached inside her coat and removed the thin black acquisition folder.
Her name appeared on the front beneath the Carter Meridian insignia.
Preston saw it.
Instead of opening it, he took the folder from her hand.
Naomi let him.
He flipped it once.
Inside were closing instructions, final inspection points, the acquisition summary, and Naomi’s executive authorization page.
Preston barely looked beyond the cover.
Then he tossed it onto a polished steel worktable.
“Anybody can print a folder.”
Naomi stared at him.
Behind Preston, two men laughed again.
The younger employee near the tool cart looked increasingly uncomfortable.
Naomi said:
“I suggest you open it.”
“I suggest you stop.”
His voice had lost the playful tone.
“This is a private hangar.”
“I know.”
“We have an actual buyer arriving.”
“I know.”
“And a lot of money moving tonight.”
“I know exactly how much.”
Preston stepped closer.
“Seven hundred seventy million dollars doesn’t appear because somebody dresses expensive.”
The sentence created a small silence even among the men who had been enjoying the exchange.
Naomi looked at him for several seconds.
“Is that what you think I’m doing?”
“What?”
“Dressing expensive.”
Preston shrugged.
“You tell me.”
Naomi almost smiled.
“Interesting.”
A uniformed security manager approached from near the conference office.
His name badge read DOUGLAS MERCER.
Preston pointed toward Naomi.
“Doug, she needs to wait outside until someone from Carter comes for her.”
Naomi looked toward the security manager.
“I’m not leaving.”
Mercer hesitated.
Preston’s expression hardened.
“See?”
Mercer stepped closer.
“Ma’am, I’m going to ask you to come with me.”
“No.”
“Please don’t make this difficult.”
Naomi looked at him.
“I have a scheduled final inspection of those aircraft.”
Mercer glanced toward Preston.
Preston shook his head.
“Walk her out.”