Chase walked in, Vincenzo steering him toward a real desk, one with the hidden charging pads built into oak. A folder, its paper thicker than most wedding invitations, was already waiting.
“You may have missed my VIM announcement,” Vincenzo said. “That doesn’t mean you can’t join its sister branch and feel it out.”
“I told you I’m not shopping for a career change.”
“You’re browsing. A ‘window of possibility’ take a peek.”
Chase opened it. Clean clauses. Friendly caps. Consulting Agreement as if those two words were ever that simple. The rate made his eyebrows almost twitch.
The scope was generous in the way traps are generous.
“What’s the client?” he asked.
“We’ll get you started at Santa’s Little Saviors LLC,” Vincenzo said. “Local revitalization, creator partnerships, brand alignment, human futures. We’re expanding the footprint aggressively. We just closed on the Naomi Lake cabin property in the Poconos – beautiful bones, currently being revitalized into a premier retreat. And you know about the Harrison Home for Youth.”
Chase stiffened. “I know your father bought it.”
“He didn’t just buy it; he’s evolving it,” Vincenzo corrected smoothly. “The ‘Harrison Academy for Brilliance.’ It’s going to be a sanctuary for exceptional minds. Thanks to you, really.”
Chase looked up, eyes narrowing. “Me?”
“You found them,” Vincenzo said, a shark’s smile touching his lips. “Those special kids you were ‘teaching.’ You identified the talent, Calder for example.”
The name hung in the air.
“There wasn’t exactly a finder’s fee, Vincenzo,” Chase said, voice low.
“It worked out though, didn’t it? The boy is thriving under my bloodline’s tutelage. And now that I have more responsibilities to be a good example. I need to make sure my branch of El Viento is robust enough to impress. That’s where you come in.”
“I’m a lawyer, not a scout.”
“Exactly. I have scouts. I have analysts. What I need is that old SilverTongue.” Vincenzo leaned forward, elbows on the desk. “We’re acquiring local staples,” Vincenzo said easily. “Summers Brew. A few properties with… emotional owners. They don’t trust suits.
He pointed a finger at Chase.
“But they’ll trust you.”
Chase and Vincenzo let silence fill the room as that uncomfortable truth settled.
“You want me to con local businesses into selling?” Chase let out.
“I want you to facilitate their futures,” Vincenzo corrected. “Think of it as… monetized benevolence…human futures.”
“Human futures,” Chase repeated, not liking the aftertaste.“Is that a hedge fund or a cult?”Chase dug furtherter, “Who owns it?” finish off with “You want ultimate beneficial owner or proxied governance?”
Vincenzo smiled at the quaint reality Chase lived in. “Don’t be dull.”
“People get dull when their names end up in filings,” Chase bit back.
“You won’t be in the filings. You’ll be the face they trust. You’ll negotiate. You’ll convince. You’ll be the adult in the room.”
“So no cameras involved.”
“For you? Not yet. You’re better behind the scenes. Though I suspect you’ll find your voice to direct the people online… Eventually. When the opportunity arises.”
Chase closed the folder. “I can’t.”
“Because?”
“Because ‘philanthropy’ that needs NDAs is marketing. Because marketing that refers to people as ‘human futures’ is manipulationt. Besides, I just finished a several-week stint as a teacher at your dad’s request… Oh and sometimes I do lawyer work at Michael & Cole and sleep when I get a chance.” Chase said with dripping sarcasm.
A spark grew behind Vincenzo’s teeth. Not anger, but interest. “Sleep is for the extras that have no stories to play out.”
“I have a story. It just doesn’t need a comment section.”
“Everything needs a comment section,” Vincenzo said, sounding genuine.
Chase slid the folder back across the desk. “I’m out.”
“For now,” Vincenzo said gently, accepting the return. “You’re out for now.”
Chase stood. “And probably always.”
“You said probably.” Vincenzo’s grin widened the precise amount that made it a promise. “You’ll call when you do the math.”
Chase didn’t answer that. He tucked his hands into his pockets, his eyes wandering the room. The ring light halo, to the neon that read GO LIVE, to the tidy row of lens caps like polite soldiers.
He recognized the shape of temptation.
Vincenzo came around the desk and did the shoulder clap that used to feel like brotherhood. It felt choreographed. “No pressure. I’m proud of the spine.”
“I’m proud of the folder,” Chase said. “Premium cardstock.”
“Right? Smells like yes.”
Chase almost smiled. “Smells like dad’s money.”
They walked back through the studio side. Vincenzo adjusted a frame out of habit.
“Dinner tonight?” Vincenzo asked. “Celebratory refusal feast. We’ll order Mexican take out and eat it at a Chinese place.”
“I already have plans,” Chase said, truth-adjacent.
“With who?”
“A friend. From the reunion.” Chase hesitated, then added, “She works at the vet clinic downtown. We’re getting coffee.”
“The vet clinic?” Vincenzo paused, a new kind of interest flickering in his eyes. “You mean the one on 4th? PawsCity Vibes? Or the emergency center?”
“The clinic. Why?”
“Animal wellness,” Vincenzo mused, looking at something Chase couldn’t see. “That’s an untapped vertical. High emotional investment, recession-proof. I should have my team look into that portfolio.”
Chase stiffened at the implication.
Vincenzo slowly tilted his head, grin sharpening.
“And she’s the one from last night? Amelia?”
“Leave her out of it, Vinny.”
“She has a great face,” Vincenzo said, ignoring him. “Readable. Emotive. The camera would love her. If she’s in with the animals, that’s a content goldmine.”
Chase kept his mouth neutral. “She’s not interested.”
“Everyone’s interested, Chase. They just haven’t had their ‘one bad day’ yet,” Vincenzo said as he brotherly patted his shoulder.
“Bring her around. Let’s bring her into the fold, she might find a better life entertaining our customers than mending animals.”
“She’s not some dancing monkey for your streams,” Chase said, voice tight.
“Not yet,” Vincenzo said, light as a feather.
The words hit like brick.
Amelia’s words from the reunion night, ‘Men like that don’t give… they trade’, rang in Chase’s head.