Chapter 5
"That's between Jocelyn and Damian now," I told her gently.
"Where are you going?"
"Across the river," I said. "Osborne Global."
Opal looked down at the floor, then back at me. A faint smile touched her lips. "They're lucky to have you, Emmett. Take care of yourself."
The elevator dinged. I stepped inside, turned around, and watched the doors slide shut on Landmark Travel Partners for the last time.
---
The offices of Osborne Global Logistics occupied the thirty-second floor of a sleek glass tower overlooking the Chicago River.
Where Landmark’s office felt like a showcase designed to impress visiting venture capitalists—all glass, chrome, and performative open-concept seating—Osborne felt like an operational war room. Long wooden desks, analysts hunched over multi-screen setups tracking international air corridors, quiet focus, and a palpable sense of competence.
Clive Osborne was waiting for me in a corner conference room with two mugs of black coffee and a plate of pastries from the bakery downstairs.
"You look like a man who just set down a ninety-pound rucksack," Clive said, grinning as he shook my hand with an iron grip.
"That's about how it feels," I said, setting my briefcase on the table and sitting down.
"Did Gable scream?"
"Worse," I replied, taking a sip of the hot coffee. "He bargained. Offered me fifty thousand and Parker as a direct report."
Clive threw his head back and laughed—a booming, hearty sound that filled the room. "Classic private-equity stooge. They cut the muscle to save on meat, and then they wonder why the skeleton can't stand upright."
He opened a leather portfolio and slid a countersigned contract across the table.
"Your contract is fully executed, Emmett. Base salary: two hundred and ten thousand. Annual performance incentive tied to enterprise margin: forty percent. Full equity vesting over four years. And an executive assistant who will filter every off-hours call so you never have to answer a phone while eating dinner with your family again."
I picked up the pen and looked at the numbers. It was more than double what Landmark had paid me, even if Gable had given me the thirty-five thousand dollar raise two weeks ago.
"There's one more thing," Clive added, leaning forward, his grin turning sharp and tactical. "Jocelyn Fairbanks called my private line forty minutes ago."
I paused, the pen hovering above the paper. "Jocelyn called you?"
"She didn't call me to chat about the weather," Clive said. "She asked if the rumor was true—that Emmett Vale was joining Osborne Global as Senior Vice President."