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“Angel investors? Derrick does business in the financial sector?” Tanya asks.
“Meh, that’s a strong word for what he does. He usually just ropes people in, takes their money and then pretends the market was bad,” I tell her. “I’ve always worried that one of the swindled investors might come back to hurt him, but seeing him here, now… Tanya, he doesn’t belong on the estate.”
She gives me a sad look. “I didn’t want to tell you earlier, I was actually hoping he wouldn’t show his face around.”
“What are you talking about?”
“He checked into one of the guest rooms this morning as a guest of Ramada Chesterfield,” she says. “I overheard bits and pieces of their conversation while I was behind the reception desk. Derrick is looking to partner with her and Leon Salas for a crypto-currency venture, and they’re trying to bring it to Kace’s table, for a maximum infusion of capital.”
“Oh, hell no,” I gasp. “No way in hell the deal will ever take off. Ramada and Leon don’t know Derrick like I do.”
I get up, anger coursing red-hot through my veins. I may not like that woman, but I can’t let her get roped into one of Derrick’s schemes, either. My honor demands that I intervene. Too many people have already suffered for his stupid, dead-on-arrival projects.
Tanya tries to stop me. “Babe, no,” she says. “That man is too much trouble. Let them handle it. They’re grown folks, and besides, it’s their money.”
“I’m sorry, but I can’t,” I reply, somehow finding enough courage to walk over to their table.
As soon as he sees me coming, Derrick turns pale. He whips up a warm smile, nonetheless. “Amaya. What a pleasure to see you again!”
“Ms. Chesterfield, I’m sorry, but could I have a word with you in private?” I ask, choosing to deliberately ignore Derrick altogether.
She seems downright displeased to even breathe the same air as me. “What do you want?”
“Please, it’s important. I promise.”
I wait while she thinks about it. Leon Salas looks understandably confused, but Derrick just chuckles and drives his focus away from the visible concern on my face. “Leon, I’m told they serve the best grass-fed beef here, am I right?”
“Oh, yes, locally sourced, too,” Leon tells him.
Ramada sighs and rolls her eyes but ultimately gets up and steps away from the table so we can talk. I take a deep breath and try to find the right words to get my message across, despite our unspoken animosity.
“I understand that you’re entering a business venture with Derrick,” I say.
“What’s it to you?” she crosses her arms and looks at me like I’m vermin.
It is really hard to stay decent, but I have to at least try and warn her, if only to ease my conscience when the shit ultimately hits the fan.
“It’s nothing to me, Ms. Chesterfield, but I know Derrick personally. Better than you do, I guarantee it. I promise I’m not making any of this up. You do not want to associate yourself with him, and you certainly don’t want to put any money into whatever business idea he’s trying to sell you on. He never follows through, always finding a way for that money to legally disappear before you even realize what’s happening.”
“Are you calling me an idiot?” Her tone is clipped.
“No, not at all,” I reply. “Derrick has a tendency to leave a trail of displeased investors in his wake. I know him. Please, believe me, I’m trying to save you unnecessary trouble.”
“I understand you were an item at some point,” Ramada replies. “Derrick warned me about you.”
“He warned you about me,” I mumble, realizing that he’s already done the preliminary work of his scheme prior to coming here. “Ms. Chesterfield, you can ask his former associates and they will tell you the same—”
“Are you implying that I don’t do my due diligence? For real?” Ramada croaks, acting downright insulted. “You might as well just call me stupid.”
She is stupid. Had she done her due diligence, something would’ve popped up. An army of red flags to steer her away from Derrick. I shake my head and try to keep the conversation civil, but she won’t give me any room to further explain.
“You know what? You stick to your overpriced yoga classes and let me do what I’m good at. I’m a businesswoman. I spin the kind of money you’ve only ever dreamed of, so don’t lecture me about who I should or shouldn’t work with,” Ramada says.
“But he’s—”
“Mind your fucking business and keep screwing your boss, because don’t think I didn’t notice. I’ve got you figured out,” she hisses, pointing an angry finger at me.
Blood rushes up to my face, and I break into a cold sweat as I stare at her in disbelief. “Excuse me?”
