“How noble of you.”
“If you want to multiply your trust fund money through hard work, that’s your choice.”
Not my goal, but that doesn’t matter here. “How do I impress Quinn?”
“There isn’t much that man can’t achieve himself, but if I were to think of his so-called Achilles’ heel, it’s Norbert Pascal.”
“The jeweler?” I frown. “How does he play into the Merged business?”
Xander chuckles. “He doesn’t. It’s personal.Corm’s wife, Saar, loves Pascal’s work, but Pascal doesn’t take Corm’s call.”
I stare at him, waiting for the punchline. There is no way a man as powerful as Cormac Quinn would make a business decision based on… what? Getting a necklace for his wife?
“I can see you don’t understand.” Xander’s amusement makes me rethink whether this is the right path after all. “When you meet the one, you will see it differently.”
“I will just have to trust you on this one, because I’m not interested in having my agency taken away by anybody. That includes any gender. So if I get him a meeting with Pascal, he will sell me the shares?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“What the fuck then, Xander?”
“You ask what can help you get the deal. Pascal would certainly sweeten your offer.”
“That is ridiculous.”
I hate that he might be right.I’m on my way to get you the meeting with Pascal.Interesting that Little Thunder is already proving useful.
“Or romantic.”
As if on cue, the universe—not that I believe in such nonsense—doubles down the romance angle, and everyone sighs around us.
A man three tables from us kneels, and the womanin front of him covers her mouth before she squeals an enthusiastic yes.
Kill. Me. Now.
Xander grins at the scene, and I wonder who kidnapped my brother and set me up with this impostor.
“You’re as daft as him since you met Cora,” I muse. “How is she, by the way?”
“Waiting for me at home, so if you don’t mind, I will take off.”
I nod and he leaves. We don’t hug. We don’t exchange pleasantries. Showing affection hasn’t been a part of our relationship for a long time. And I’m fine with that.
Talking to my brother for an hour has taken up my weekly quota of socializing.
“Would you like dessert?” The server wastes her cheerful smile on me.
“Just the bill,” I say, my attention returning to the lights on the top floors of the building across the street.
Somewhere over there, in those offices, is the person who holds the key to my future. And she seems far more volatile than I anticipated.
Something sharp cuts through me.
Interest.
Not welcome.
I haven’t cared about much in years, but fuck, the anticipation cuts through me like a blade.
