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Damn it.
I shake away the butterflies.
“That’s nice. So … about the app? Any chance you and your partner or partners would be interested in selling?”
“No. Absolutely not.”
“Really? Not even for … ten million?”
I don’t give a shit if he asks me to triple it. I just need him to agree to the sale so we can shake on it and make dinner plans, where I gently suggest we meet at his place so we can get a little more comfortable in case either of us wants to celebrate. I don’t know if he’s married, but he’s not wearing a ring.
“It’s not about the money. I’m not interested in selling. And even if I were my partner would never agree to it. We’re happy with the success of the app, have a lot of plans for it. He spends most of the day working on making improvements, debugging, drumming up business for ads, that sort of thing.”
Now I wonder if King is BigDev. But Benjamin is way too big for me to put a knife to his throat and make him confess. Even though it would be fun.
“Maybe I could meet with your partner?”
His brow furrows and he flicks his wrist, glances at a watch. “He’s not interested in meeting with you. Now is there anything else I can help you with?”
God, who the hell wears watches anymore? Child sex traffickers, apparently.
“How do you know he’s not interested, Mr. Figueiredo?”
Annoyance flashes in his eyes. Probably not used to being challenged by a woman. “Because he prefers anonymity.”
Oh, I bet he does. Sounds like the brains of the operation.
I pull in a breath, glance at the chair across from him. “May I have a seat?”
“You may not,” he clips out. “I was on my way out the door for a meeting, so I’m afraid we’ll have to cut this short, Ms. Sanchez.”
What planet am I on? I’ve never had to beg for a man’s attention. Maybe I’m the wrong gender, in which case I should have chosen a much different wig and outfit.
Or, and this is the more likely reason Benjamin isn’t interested in me, I’m too old. I’ll bet if I were ten years younger, this nearly six-and-a-half foot-tall man would be inviting me to move in with him.
I draw my lips tight, nod, look out the window, ideas whirling through my head. “Apologies. I don’t want to hold you up but I can’t help but think you’re throwing a golden opportunity out the window.”
He licks his lips. “You clearly haven’t done your research.”
Clearly, he’s irritating the hell out of me. “Why is that?”
“Buying an app is risky. There can be issues with transferring the developer account. Sign-ins could be lost, particularly with certain systems and software. You could lose users, which means a massive loss in funds. Why are you so interested in buying?”
Finally, I’ve got him hooked. “Maybe if you listened to my story, met my kids, you’d understand.”
His face softens. Just a tiny little bit. But I notice it. Hm, mention children and suddenly he’s interested. “Maybe I would. But since I’ve no interest in pursuing this, it’s a moot point.”
“Please. Just give me one hour of your time.”
“Why don’t you leave me your business card, and if there’s ever a point in time this conversation is relevant we can revisit it.”
This conversation is relevant, you sonofabitch,I silently scream.
“I don’t have a business card. I’m just a mom. And this is important, and relevant, to me.”
His jaw hitches, and a vein pops on his forehead. I swear he’s about to throw me out of his office, threatening me with a harassment suit if I ever show my face here again. I’m pissed because this is not going how I planned.
“Bring your kids here tomorrow at three. You’ll have fifteen minutes to explain why this is so important. And relevant.” He grits out the last word.
