Still, he’s not the type to bluff unless he’s holding something real. Which is exactly what makes him dangerous.
He orders an expensive champagne, as if he’s happy about something. Not a surprise. The man celebrates his own audacity.
“Heard you’re having a hard time getting the deal across the finish line.”
Ah. So he’s actually celebrating is my eventual defeat.
Classy.
“Due diligence takes time.”
He lifts his glass in mock salute. “What’s it been, years?”
Not quite. I refuse to rise to his bait.
“Some of their board members weren’t happy about the way you cozied up to Bianca Lockhart. Heard her brother, Beaumont, was pissed. Everyone’s questioning your judgment.”
Hasn’t the press moved on to something else yet? “Things aren’t always what they seem.”
“What does that matter? Perception is everything.”
“Fuck off.” I hate that he’s right about that.
He leans back like he’s settling in for a show. “You know, I offered them a number.”
Of course he did.
That’s his favorite trick. Jump the line with whispered promises, then play white knight when the dust settles. And people eat it up—because Marchand looks like a solution even when he’s the problem.
“Lockhart doesn’t want a quick win,” I say. “They want the right fit.”
He grins. And it’s a good one. The kind that could charm the hell out of a boardroom or make a senator forget who’s really in charge.
“Funny.” He sips his champagne. “That’s exactly what I told them. But I suppose we define ‘fit’ differently.”
There’s no point posturing with Marchand. He’s not the kind of man who needs to beat his chest. He’s already four moves ahead, and half the board is rigged in his favor.
“You’re not worried about overextending?” I ask casually. “Between the towers in Dallas, the international deal in Panama, and whatever mess you’re cleaning up in Singapore…”
“Concerned?” He tips his head. “I sleep like a baby, Blackwell.”
I believe him. That’s the worst part. He doesn’t blink. Doesn’t sweat.
Marchand may be a bastard, but he’s the kind that survives every fire with his cuff links intact. “Still, cash is king.” Our offer is almost all cash.
He acknowledges that. “It’s not the only thing.”
I finish my first shot of the exceptional distillate.
“I heard about your new assistant.” His tone has sharpened slightly, a sliver of interest threading through. “Seraphina Hollis, right?”
Every muscle in me goes still.
“Smart hire. Quiet. Clever. Loyal, from everything I’ve heard.”
I don’t respond. Because I don’t like the way her name sounds in his mouth.
His smile widens. “If you ever get tired of her, send her my way. I could use someone who knows how to make good decisions, despite the odds being stacked against her.”
