Page 94 of Dial F for Finance

Well, I spring. Dominic just relaxes back against his desk with a sly grin as he reaches for his mouse and accepts the call.

“You didn’t mention a call,” I hiss as it connects.

Before he can respond, Xavier Field appears from a conference room in San Francisco. Dark suit. White shirt. No tie. The afternoon sun cuts across the windows behind him while Chicago is already fading toward evening.

Field glances at Dominic, then at me.

“Ms. Pemberton.”

“Mr. Field.”

“Congratulations.”

I blink. “On the deal?”

“The marriage.”

“Oh.” I look at Dominic and quirk a brow. He swipes a thumb across his jaw and I’m not sure if I want to throttle him or fuck him. “Thank you.”

Xavier’s expression doesn’t change. “Moving on to the implementation schedule.”

He shares his screen, all business. The document that materializes on the monitor bears Nakamura’s logo. My eyes scan the text, absorbing the corporate Japanese and the English translation side by side.

My stomach drops, then immediately calcifies into ice.

“They found the NeuraTech bottleneck,” I say, my voice flattening into absolute professional detachment.

Dominic’s playful demeanor vanishes. The man who was just kissing my neck is replaced instantly by the apex predator of Cruz Financial. He leans forward, bracing both hands on the desk. “They finally worked out why we were so hell-bent on being the ones to acquire them.”

“Exactly,” Xavier says. “Their board believes the purchase price didn’t reflect Nakamura’s strategic value to NeuraTech. They’re claiming non-disclosure regarding the South Korean fabricators. They’re demanding a post-completion adjustment to the equity consideration—ten percent instead of the five you negotiated in Tokyo. Double the payout, or they freeze the manufacturing schedule.”

“That’s exactly what Landon said they’d do,” Dominic says. “And exactly why we flew out there when we did. Double the ask means the cost of the device skyrockets. Then no one wins. People need that tech. It’ll be life-changing.”

“Exactly,” I say, the word clipping through the air like a snapped wire. “This is a bad-faith play. They can’t demand additional consideration after completion.”

Xavier’s eyes flick to me on the screen. “They hold the manufacturing capacity, Ms. Pemberton. In cross-border negotiations, possession is nine-tenths of the leverage.”

“Not when the contract expressly forbids it,” I counter, my fingers already flying across my laptop keyboard. “We anticipated their board might try to probe the logistics network post-deal to test our boundaries. We built a contingency clause into the Tokyo agreement specifically to neutralize this.”

I pull up the master file, highlight the relevant text, and hit send. “Check your inbox, Mr. Field. Section Four, Article Twelve, Subsection C. The South Korean supply exposure is disclosed in Appendix G, and the agreement expressly excludes any post-completion adjustment arising from a disclosed constraint proving more valuable to the buyer than Nakamura understood when it signed. The consideration is final. Control has transferred. They cannot back out because they regret the price.”

On the screen, Xavier looks down at his secondary monitor. The silence stretches.

Finally, he looks back up and nods. “This is airtight.” There’s genuine professional respect threading through his usually surgical voice. “Exceptional language, Cruz. You left them absolutely zero room to move.”

Dominic doesn’t even hesitate. “I can’t take the credit, Xavier. It was all Jenna. She built the cage. I just stood next to her while she ushered them inside and locked it.”

The acknowledgment lands and pride blooms inside my chest.

Xavier’s gaze shifts back to me. “Brilliant work, Ms. Pemberton. You make an excellent duo—with Dominic’s ability to fix and your ability to close, you’ll be unstoppable. I’ll take this to my people immediately. I’m going to have a friendly conversation with Nakamura’s board. I’ll make sure they understand that additional consideration isn’t available under the agreement, and that fighting this specific clause in international arbitration will bankrupt them well before Mercer and Cruz run out of funds,” Xavier says, the corner of his mouth finally lifting. “I’ll update you in the morning. But I’d also like the Tokyo redlines if possible. Not just the clean execution copies—the negotiation notes, margin comments, and every version between Nakamura’s opening position and the final agreement.”

I glance at Dominic.

“There’s a playbook in there my team can learn from,” Xavier adds.

Dominic’s expression is pure, insufferable pride.

“I’ll remove anything privileged or specific to Mercer’s internal position,” I say. “The remaining material will be with you Monday.”