Page 22 of Manhattan Bossholes

I whirled to him. “What, like you’re my sugar daddy? No freaking way, that’s disgusting! And don’t tell me to calm down, ever.”

“Well, you clearly need the money, because you’re here at Summit despite your obvious distaste for me,” he pointed out. Wonder of wonders, he didn’t sound taunting for once. Just like he was trying to get to the bottom of the situation so he could find a solution. Maybe that was why I answered him honestly.

“For my business.”

“Your photography business? But why? Based on my research, that’s already self-sustaining, what more could you need for it?”

“Not my photography business. I told you I have other goals. My side hustle is going to become my main if things go according to plan.” There was no reason to tell him any more. It was none of his business. But I couldn’t resist. I was proud of what Darcy and I had already built, and I wanted to brag, to prove to him he wasn’t the only one in the room with a head for business. “My best friend and I launched a leathergoods business called Strapped. We make these specialized leather camera straps for photographers—they let you carry three different cameras at a time but still keep them accessible.” I scrolled through my phone and walked over to him to show him a photo. “See?”

Vincent studied it. “Looks a little kinky if you ask me. Like S&M lederhosen.”

“Of course you’d go there,” I scowled at him, even though he was sort of right. “They’re incredibly functional, and people love them. Right now, they’re only available in little Etsy shops, but we want to mass market them. We sourced a group of leatherworkers in Italy, and they’re ready to go, we just need the funds to place our first major order. We’ve both been saving, but we’re hoping to get Mercedes Horan to come on as an advisor and angel investor.”

“Why didn’t you just ask me to invest?” he asked. “It sounds like you’ve got a solid plan. I’m always looking for new opportunities.”

I couldn’t stop the sour lemons expression on my face. “Ew. How would that even work, seeing as we can’t stand each other? No, we want Mercedes, not only for her deep pockets but also her expertise. She has a shoe line, so she understands the leathergoods market. She could help guide us. And she has a reputation for being a great mentor, especially to all-female enterprises like ours. We just need to get in front of her.”

“Yes, that does sound like something she’d go for. She was just telling me about her latest investment when I ran into her at the New York Public Library Board of Trustees meeting. We’ve served together for years.”

“Wait…what? You know her?” I asked, trying to hide my shock.

“Of course I do. Manhattan is a small town,” he shrugged.

A silence fell between us as I waited for him to suggest the obvious solution. He wanted something from me—and it was clear he had something to offer me in return. Specifically, an introduction to Mercedes. I wasn’t about to ask him for it—I didn’t want to give him the ego trip of me begging for his help—but if he offered, sure, I’d take him up on it.

I crossed my arms and stared at him, waiting for him to say the words.

Vincent leaned back in his chair and watched me. He seemed to enjoy the awkward silence, so I forced myself to remain still and not fidget. I’d read somewhere that whoever caves first in a negotiation always wound up losing.

It was a standoff, and I was going to win.

“I’ll introduce you.”

Yes!

“What are the conditions?” I asked, wanting to be very clear about what we were agreeing to.

His expression shifted from amused to all business. “We stay in what appears to be a committed relationship now through Paul’s wedding, including spending time with my dad. You continue working at Summit to get the Sullivans to agree to sell their blossoms to me, and once that happens, I’ll introduce you to Mercedes.”

“Hold on, hold on—that sounds like you just added a layer of requirements to a deal we struck. I’m already working on the Sullivans angle—that doesn’t factor into this new deal. You’re still paying me for that no matter what, correct?”

“Yes, you’re right,” he sighed. “This whole ‘meet the father to get an introduction to Mercedes’ thing is a side quest, I guess you could say.”

“My business is not a side quest,” I corrected him quickly.

He looked startled, but he nodded slowly, accepting my point.

“Yes. You’re right.”

We didn’t agree about much but the man seemed to understand the gravity of a new business venture.

I nodded, satisfied. “Okay, then. Now we need to outline the rules, because I have to know exactly how much togetherness I’ll be forced to tolerate in order to fulfill my side of the agreement. Like, are we supposed to be couple-y at work?”

He shook his head. “We don’t have fraternization rules, but there’s an expectation that people will keep things professional when they’re on the clock. When we’re here, we focus on the work to be done.”

“Good,” I replied primly. “It would be challenging for me to pretend to like you for eight hours a day.”

He rolled his eyes. “All I require of you is to be available for a few meals with my father and act like you like me. Attend Paul’s wedding with me. And the Hawaii trip, of course.”