Page 99 of Lucas & Melissa Falling in Love
Chapter 32
“Oh yeah?” My bullshit meter is running high because I know Bert and that’s why he’s my ex. But I listen because I know he’s trying to make up for being such an ass on New Year’s Eve. I bet our good friend George put him up to it.
“I have a guy with the potential for a hundred-million-dollar commercial development project looking for a lending partner. He came to me because I knew him back in the day, and I told him I don’t do lending anymore, but that I would set him up.”
“What’s the catch?”
“I want a referral fee.”
“Of course. Per the bank’s policy—”
“No, I mean I want a littleextrareferral. I want ten percent of your bonus when you close the deal. It’ll be a lot of work and take some time, but it’ll be worth it and I frankly don’t trust anyone else to see it through as much as I trust you to do it.” He pauses, but I’m speechless, so he goes on. “You’re starting out and I know you’re smashing it, but I also know you can use the business because you’re wildly ambitious.”
Counting to ten to keep my fuming to a minimum, I heave a breath. This is so not kosher, but not crazy unexpected either. I’ve heard of such backroom deals.
“I suppose I should be flattered that you trust me,” I say. Not sure if I trust him, not sure if I should go along with it. The last thing I want is for the bank to get a whiff and fire my ass for unethical business practices.
“Of course. So you’re in.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Sure you are. I’m bringing my old friend—let’s call him the principle—with me to the Regals’ party. You can meet him then and set up an appointment to get things rolling. We definitely don’t want him going to another bank.”
“I’m pleased that you’re so confident in me,” I say, hedging my words. I don’t want to alienate him, but I’m definitely not comfortable with the deal. God damn Bert.
“I’ve been talking to your boss. He’s impressed with you too. Says you’ve produced like gangbusters with half a dozen applications in the two weeks since you started.”
“I can’t say yes to a backroom deal,” I say to Bert, my eyes shut against the anticipation of his outrage. But he doesn’t yell.
Instead, he says, “Don’t say no. We’ll work something out. I’ll see you Saturday night.” He hangs up, presumably before I can tell him to go to hell.
I let out a breath, really and truly relieved that I did the right thing. And thrilled that Bert backed down from his shady proposition. Now I’m fairly certain I can get his prize client with the usual aboveboard referral—and maybe a gift certificate for Bert for a nice dinner at his favorite restaurant, the Michelin 3-star place he took me when he wanted to impress me, —11 Madison Park, a Michelin 3-star, and a good compromise I think we’ll both be able to live with.
* * *
The restof the week is a blur of business calls to old contacts and endless financial statements and loan documents to set up potentially another half dozen loans. On Thursday, when I get the call that one of the loans is approved and finalized—a multi-million-dollar deal, I stand up and fist pump the air. Then I sit back down, relieved that no one saw me.
Yet I’m still surprised when the vice president calls me into his office for a meeting on Friday to talk about my future.
When I hang up the phone I swear I want to pick it up and spike it to the carpet in celebration. But I calm myself, on the outside at least. There’s no calming the zing of pleasure running through me. I’m going to ask for a bonus and a promotion whether Mr. VP offers either one or not.
Heading for the elevator to go up four flights, I feel giddy and wish I had time to call Lucas. I haven’t seen him all week because he’s busy setting up his office and negotiating the lease on a space for a showroom, then Skyping with his father every night.
Though we do have those nightly phone calls, each one steamier than the last. Allowing myself a small smile just before the elevator doors open, I snap to professional attention and step out into the reception lobby for the executive suites. This is the meeting I’ve been waiting for.
* * *
Not sure whyI needed to wait until I get home to Margo’s before calling Lucas, I finally fly through the door to my guest room and dial his number. I’m hoping he can find a window of time for me tonight, though he’s warned me he’s likely going to be working straight through until the deal is signed and sealed and he has a final Skype with his father and some other Fierro company execs much later, like early morning.
Resigning myself to telling him the news over the phone, I wait for him to answer. It takes four rings, but then he picks up.
“Melissa, can I call you back?” he says.
Damn. “Okay. Any time. I have great news.” I leave him with that. Starting to feel like second fiddle, I know it’s ridiculous, but the competitive streak in me runs deep. I feel a need to keep up with him and his high-powered world. Too bad I didn’t get the promotion I was hoping for. But at least the VP listened when I mentioned it and he didn’t dismiss me. He clearly thought I was jumping the gun, but grudgingly admitted I’d gotten off to a great start and if I kept it up for another six months, a promotion would be a real possibility.
In the meantime, I was thrilled with the bonus. It was enough to stock my bank account and make me feel like I’d left behind pauperdom. The need to celebrate rose in me and I went searching for Margo, stopping short of knocking on her bedroom door. There were unspoken rules and I wasn’t about to break them unless there was a meteor strike imminent.
Changing into jeans, Lucas’s old NYU sweatshirt and UGG slippers, I was about to leave my room when my phone rang. Diving for it as I fell back onto the bed, I put it to my ear.
