Page 21 of Cruel Offer
Plus, he’s hot as hell. That makes it easier.
Double checking the address he gave me, I get on the N train to Lower Manhattan and then walk a few blocks to abeautiful street where row after row of historic brownstones reach to the sky. Most are covered in blankets of ivy, with tripartite bay windows and stately black iron railings leading up the front steps.
At the end of the street, I come to a stop outside a four-story building with perfectly aged bricks and a glossy black front door. For a moment I just stand there staring up at it, taking a moment to gather myself. Leafy sycamore trees grace the sidewalk, their canopies making dappled shade along the street. Birds chirp and the scent of flowers hangs in the air. Despite being only a few blocks from Downtown proper, it’s almost quiet here.
My heels are loud on the sidewalk. Loud on the steps. But not as loud as the rush of my pulse in my ears when Nate Windemere answers the door in a white button down, the top few buttons undone, jeans slung low on his hips, enticingly bare feet, and those deep brown eyes that nail me with an intensity that steals my remaining breath.
“Well, well, well. Look at this,” he says with his trademark smirk. “Hours to spare. You didn’t even make me sweat.”
Warmth floods through me in all the right places and suddenly all I can think about is how much I do want to make him sweat.
9
NATE
“What doyou have for us, Windemere?”
I haven’t even taken my seat at the boardroom table yet, and Theo is already on my ass. Sebastian and Becker are talking amongst themselves and pay no attention when I come in.
Resisting the urge to roll my eyes, I set my things down. “Do you need something to do, Theo? Is managing The Regent getting too easy for you?”
He gives me an unamused look. “Yeah, man. Running a five-star luxury hotel in Lincoln Square is a goddamn piece of cake. You should try it sometime. See how you like it.”
“Maybe I should,” I rib him.
“Maybe you should. But no. I’m just curious who you’re planning to replace the Barclay account with, that’s all. The suspense is killing me.”
Some people think it’s a dream to work with your three best friends, but most of the time, it’s a pain in the ass. Reaching for the carafe, I fill a mug with steaming coffee and sit.
It’s our quarterly meeting to discuss new clients that have been signed and onboarded, as well as any potential clients that need a bit more convincing to commit. That’s where I come in. I’m the networker, the schmoozer, the closer. It’s my job to wine and dine the wealthy and influential and make it impossible for them to say no.
Being on all the time can be exhausting, but the truth is, I’m genuinely interested in people. I like learning about them, figuring out how their brains work, what makes them tick. I also have an impeccable memory, which means I have a talent for recalling names and faces and which family went to Tahiti for vacation last year and who competes in golf tournaments and all the clients with a soft spot for Macallan or Glenfiddich or Swedish absinthe. This talent of mine tends to make my client interactions run smoothly. And it makes it a hell of a lot easier to press for what I want when I come across as a friend rather than solely a salesman.
But my friends can see through my usual bullshit from a mile away, and they’re not the type to be swayed by my go-to tactics, which is why I’m getting increasingly antsy about the fact that I haven’t told them about the deal with Piper-Lily Barclay. My partners can be a bunch of hard asses when they want to be, and I honestly don’t know how they’re going to react when I tell them the news. Guess I’m about to find out.
Handing out the client lists I had my assistant print this morning, I open my laptop and wait for Becker and Sebastian to wrap up their conversation, but they’re not in a hurry.
Sebastian has been a new man ever since he fell in lovewith one of our clients’ daughters who was set to be auctioned, then married her, and is now expecting a baby. He’s smiling at something Becker said, and all I can think about is how rarely Sebastian used to smile or make small talk. It’s heartening to see now. When his first fiancée died, Sebastian turned bitter and lost, practically going into hibernation. The grief hung over him like a dark cloud for years. But once he met Blair, he finally started to recover, thank God.
I tune into the conversation and realize they’re talking about baseball. Sebastian was never much into sports until he married the heiress of the owner of a winning MLB team, the New York Rockets. Now, he’s practically a fanatic.
“Are you two just about done drooling over the Rockets’ new pitcher?” I interrupt, my voice laced with impatience.
Beck’s eyes rove over me with cool amusement. I hate it when he looks at me like that, as if he’s seeing all my flaws and finds them personally entertaining. He slides the client list closer and looks at it.
“This is…about what I expected,” he says. “Some solid prospects on here, though a few are a little underwhelming.”
“Look at the name at the bottom,” I tell him. “I’d hardly call that underwhelming.”
Smug, I sit back in my chair. Everyone looks at their lists, then up at me. I’m purposely buttering them up to make dropping the bomb about Piper-Lily a little easier on them.
Technically, since the original contract with Mr.Barclay was canceled, there is no conflict of interest here. But let’s be honest, the optics of me shacking up with a former QG client’s daughter aren’t the best. And I can’t risk having my partners find out and turn it into a big deal. Better to be straight with them from the start and address any concerns they have right away, before the situation is in full swing. It helps that Sebastian’s recent behavior—explicitly breaking the rules—was so easily forgiven. It’s one more point in my favor if anyone has an issue with my plan.
They didn’t kill him for marrying a client’s daughter, so they can’t kill me for screwing one.
“Is this the daughter of that fruit guy?” Theo’s on his phone, Googling the well-known name on the client list.
“If you mean, the daughter of the guy who owns the largest citrus company in the nation, then yes. Her father is worth several billion. We’re having dinner tonight. He plans to sign with us.”
