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“Oh.” I chuckled. “Audacity in abundance. I like it,” I said, already pushing back from my desk. “Clear the next two hours on my schedule,” I told her, moving to the coat rack by my door to grab appropriate outerwear for the frigid Blackwood weather.
“Do I even need to ask why?” she asked, rolling her eyes.
I shook my head as I pulled open the door. “Nope. You already know.” I stopped halfway through to grin. “Did I see a minimum carat requirement for the future Mrs. Sterling’s engagement ring?”
She nodded. “That was the other thing I loved about that summary.”
“Of course you enjoyed that.” I laughed. “Find my future wife’s ring by this afternoon, please.”
“I will get right on it,” she agreed. “Any stipulations?”
“Whatever the requirement was, double it.”
Shiloh frowned. “Ri, that would be obnoxious.”
“Yeah. That’s the point.”
* * *
Nectarwasthe kind of business—especiallyin the grocery industry—that sparked admiration and envy in anyone with enough savvy to know what they were looking at.
No thanks to William Stark.
Even before his fine-ass daughter caught my attention, Nectar had been a topic of conversation for Stellar Foods. They had the market placement we sorely wanted, but hadn’t quite been able to master.
The community support I wasn’t sure we ever could achieve. At least, not without a time machine.
It might be considered a bit “blasphemous” in the family for me to criticize the way my ancestors had built the business, but the internal attitude for a long time had beengrowth over everything.There hadn’ttrulybeen any type of focus on supporting and sowing into our community until probably my grandparents’ generation, even though the business itself went back further. And it was my parents who really leaned into the “Black-owned” designation when I was a kid, in the nineties.
Nectarhad been about it since the beginning, which made it easy to seewhyit was so well-loved and supported in the community. They could’ve leaned on that, doing the bare minimum like so many others, but walking into the building, the re-investment was clear. The historic architecture was intact, and impeccably maintained, with just the right amount of modernized touches—screens, sleek surfaces and neutral tones, current music piped throughout the building—to keep it relevant to millennial customers and younger, without scaring the older generations away.
It was something to be proud of.
Which was exactly what made it a perfect bargaining chip.
I took my time sauntering around the first floor, taking in the eclectic mix of pure retail and third-party vendors that madeNectarsuch an attractive destination. I nodded to myself as I passed a small Urban Grind café. They had a full-blown storefront that was always crowded barely a block away, and yet, the café was bustling with people as well, dropping in for a quick pick-me-up before they continued their shopping.
It was abrilliantuse of space.
They would’ve been fine with all-Nectareverything, but bringing in these small footprints from various small businesses in the surrounding areas only deepened their roots.
Besides whatever commissions or rental fees they were making.
I was practically itching for a look at their books, into the fine-grained details that weren’t available to the public, for no other reason than satisfying my selfish curiosity.
An interest that would, unfortunately, have to wait.
“What the hell are you doing here?”
With a grin on my face, I turned to the sound of Nalani’s voice to find her standing behind me, arms crossed.
Not even alittleamused.
“A man can’t visit his fiancée?”
“That paperwork hasnotbeen signed,” she countered, shaking her head.
“Yet.”
