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Or at least what he thought had been.
“Now that we understand each other, I’ll be adding a fifty percent completion bonus to the contract if everything is done satisfactorily.”
He’d intended the offer as a demonstration that at this point in his life money truly didn’t matter. He would achieve his first billion before the year was out with his own personal investments, and that wasn’t including whether or not the Pearson Group took off the way he wanted. But when her eyes lit up with gratitude, his initial flare of smug satisfaction flamed out as quickly as it had appeared, replaced by something almost like guilt.
Mercilessly, he pushed that feeling aside. She was getting paid, and generously. If she delivered, she would have more than enough business to keep her little shop from going under. And, he reminded himself again, when it came to emotions, she was manipulative and heartless. Giving her a taste of her own medicine as he helped save her business was nothing to feel guilty over. He had more than earned the right to enjoy this feeling of power.
“That’s not necessary.”
“It’s not,” he agreed, “but Jessica wrote it into the contract.”
Her smile grew. “I can’t thank you enough, Mr. Santos.” She pulled out her own phone and started tapping away. “Do you have time for a couple questions?”
“Jessica will provide you with all the information you need.”
A frown furrowed her brow. “Which is great. But these are clients you’re courting, right? It would be helpful to hear what you’re thinking firsthand.”
A professional answer, and one that made sense. So why was he resisting? Why did he suddenly feel the need to put as much distance between himself and Alexandra Moss as possible?
“I have ten minutes.”
The quick flash of another smile pricked his skin.
“Ten minutes. All right, first question...”
He answered her inquiries deftly, savored the surprise in her eyes as he listed some of the guests who would be in attendance at the brunch, the house party and the final gala. Big names and even bigger wallets.
“I can’t believe you got Theodore Craig to come,” she said. “He’s notoriously private. In all the summers we visited the Hamptons, I think I saw him once.”
“I worked for him after you fired me.”
The color disappeared from her face. “Oh.”
“Started off as just mowing lawns. He invited me to have coffee with him one morning. When he learned I was studying finance, we started talking.” The memory warmed him, steadied him. It hadn’t just been his heart that had taken a fatal blow that Labor Day weekend. His confidence had been ripped asunder, too. Had he been deluding himself that he could achieve the goals he’d set for himself?
It had been Theodore who had looked at him not just with interest but respect, who had listened to his opinions on current events and economics and guided him toward applying for Stanford’s graduate program. Who, Grant had found out when he’d graduated, had paid for it.
Theodore, a millionaire several hundred times over, had treated him like an equal. Unlike David, who had treated him like scum, and Alexandra, who had used him for her own amusement.
Alexandra glanced at her watch and grimaced.
“Sorry. I took twelve minutes.”
“You had good questions.”
Ridiculous that such a simple compliment warmed her.
“Thank you. And I got your invite to meet with Jessica tomorrow to tour the library and see the space the first luncheon is being held at.”
Even though working with her ex-lover was not her first choice, she couldn’t deny the excitement and sense of purpose that had taken her from despondent to energized and determined. She enjoyed filling the small orders, a bouquet for a proposal or an arrangement to congratulate someone on a new career. But jobs like these, ones that presented a challenge while giving her creative freedom with her flowers and plants, were her favorite.
She tucked her phone into her pocket and stood, grabbing her wineglass.
“Have a good night.”
“Are you staying here?”
A slight blush stained her cheeks as she followed his gaze to the empty glass in her hand.
