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"This sounds fine to me as well." I have to force out each word. "I would be happy to work on this new project for you, Mr. Lawson."
"Well, I'm just sorry the last one didn't work out," he says, and I catch his lip twitching again. "Although I have some questions about that if you don't mind."
"We don't mind," Harris says for me.
"Thank you. I was wondering, Mr. Cooper, what issues did you encounter with this property? It's just a little, struggling bakery. I just want to understand what the trouble is. What if you run into similar trouble on this next project?"
I swallow. "It wasn't my inability to get the sale. It was the owner's unwillingness to sell. The bakery is an inheritance from her late mother. And because of that, she refused to let it go. I can't force someone to do something they don't want to, Mr.Lawson."
I put as much strain as I can into his last name. Reminding him of the person he's betraying in all of this.
Even after my last conversation with Denise, where she called me out on my bullshit, I faltered. I still feel the desire to defend her right to her bakery. She can be mad at me all she wants. I don't blame her for that. But I won't play a part in trying to pry her mother's last gift from her. On principle alone, I can't.
Austin's mouth twitches again as he recognizes how I've said his name and realizes that I've put the pieces together that he'd been trying to hide from me.
He shifts in his seat, though he tries to play it off casually. "What tactics did you try?"
My jaw clenches. "I used every page of those files you sent us. I got to know the owner very well during my stay in Barton Beach. And—"
"How well?" he suddenly asks, his brow furrowing as he leans closer to his camera.
Crap. Did my tone give something away? No, that's not possible.
My eyes flicker to Harris, wondering if he also sensed something in my tone. Something about my feelings for Denise. But he's currently thumbing through the folder before him as if he's almost bored.
"Well enough," I respond. "You gave me files on her life to give me an edge. And I learned all of it. I feel like I can accurately say I know her well. And I did my best to entice her to your deal. But again, I can't force her to accept a deal she doesn't want."
"And how did you 'entice her?'" he asks. A smile suddenly cracks across his face. "Did you do as I suggested to Harris? You played to her female sentimentalities?"
Anger rips through me again. I have to remind myself to play along. "Yes. I even took her to dinner. Strictly for business purposes, of course. That still wasn't enough. She won't be moved."
Austin leans back in his chair and sighs. "Well. I guess you did try your best then. That's okay. You'll enjoy this new project a lot better. Harris—did you forward the files to Mr. Cooper?"
Harris glances up at the screen, hazel eyes baggy with boredom. "Of course, Mr. Lawson."
I pull my open laptop closer and find the email from Harris with the new files. Austin has sent us a PDF file much larger than the one about Denise.
"This will involve several more properties than the last project, Mr. Cooper," Austin continues. "But you shouldn't need to travel for it. In fact, I bet you could even do a lot of it working from home."
"Sounds nice," I say.
His eyes meet mine through the screen, eyes so unlike Denise's in every way. "Hopefully, you'll find this job a lot more doable, Mr. Cooper," he says. He emphasizes the word "doable," and I know exactly what he's getting at.
Asshole.
I meet his eyes, not just through the screen but looking directly into the webcam itself. "I'm sure I can handle it just fine," I assure him, my tone hard. Unyielding.
Harris clears his throat. "Excellent. I'm glad we got this whole matter sorted out." Nodding to the camera, he says, "Thank you for your time, Mr. Lawson. We'll let you get back to your work, and we'll update you on the progress of this new project very soon."
"I hope you do. Goodbye, Mr. Harris. Mr. Cooper."
Austin ends the call, and even with him gone, Harris sits there momentarily looking down at his notes, his mouth clamped into a hard frown as if deeply lost in an unpleasant thought.
Ignoring him, I push a few buttons on my laptop, downloading Austin's new files and sending them to print.
"I'll go pick up these new files from the copy room and then head back to my desk," I say, hopping up from my chair and heading toward the door. "Got a lot more work to do on this one."
But before I can take two steps, a hand suddenly grasps me by the front of my shirt, stopping me in my tracks.
