Page 28 of Final Proposal

I can do this.

I know I can do this.

“Ellery. Look at me,” Ford says in that implacable tone of his.

“What?”

“Have you filed the paperwork yet?” His question throws me.

“Paperwork?”

“For the purchase. The auction.”

I stare at him, blinking, clearly not following him. “No. I mean, I was going to, but I needed some fresh air. Then you were here . . . and, no, I haven’t.”

“Okay. Then let’s go fill out our paperwork.”

My head snaps up to meet his. “What do you mean by our paperwork?”

“Ours. As in yours and mine. Co-owners split fifty-fifty. That’s my proposal.”

“What?”

“You heard me. Ours.”

“You can’t just—”

“Yes, I can,” he says nonchalantly as if he’s used to people agreeing to whatever he tells them. He is a Sharpe, after all, and they have a reputation for getting exactly what they want. “We’d make a good team. You’re stressing about capital, and I have capital I was already willing to spend. You’re worried about risks, while my forte is the market and what the property needs to be competitive. The remodel part is your baby since that’s your specialty. And then when you’re done, I have the connections to market and sell its uniqueness to the clientele I have in mind. Add to that, us going in fifty-fifty lessens our financial exposure and risk.”

“But it also splits the profits,” I counter, more to sound like I’m being reasonable.

“Beggars can’t be choosers,” he teases as I stare at him dumbfounded. Here’s a man I’ve met a whole of two times, asking to partner with me, telling me we’d be a good team, and the levelheaded, look-before-I-leap me is considering it.

What is wrong with me?

“What if our visions for the property are different?”

“We’ll compromise.”

I snort. “A Sharpe compromising?”

“Are you judging me, Ellery?” he asks, that playful grin of his owning my attention.

“No. Yes. I mean, you are probably used to—”

“Having partners and having to compromise? Yes. In fact, I am. What else are you going to throw at me?”

“But what about the division of duties? I’ll be living on-site. If I’m there one hundred percent of the time while you’re here in the city, then it shouldn’t be a fifty-fifty split. I think we should revise your proposal to a forty-sixty split.”

“Ohhh, she’s already playing hardball. That means you’ll negotiate well with subs. I’m impressed. And I like it.” He rocks his head from side to side as he contemplates my comment. “Well, if you’re going to be on-site, then I will be too.”

“You’ll what?”

“You heard me. Hell, I’d welcome the change of scenery. I can work from anywhere, and if I’m needed in the offices, I can always have the chopper come get me.”

The Sinclair/Haywood family is successful by almost anyone’s standards. If we never wanted to work another day in our lives, we’d still be fine.

But we’ve got nothing on the Sharpes. They are at a whole other level of ridiculousness.