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“Good morning, Mr. Kind,” one security guard said.
“Morning, Bruno.” He smiled. “Morning, Leo.” He began to walk away.
“Excuse me?” I spoke. “I need to speak with someone in charge of the property leases. These two won’t help me.”
He stopped, turned around, and stared at me.
“May I ask what this is about?”
“I was just with one of your realtors looking at a space for lease, and there’s a problem with the numbers.”
He glanced at his watch. “Today is your lucky day, Miss?—”
“Morgan,” I spoke.
“Miss Morgan. I happen to have some time before a meeting. I’m Shaun Kind, the owner, and CEO of Sterling Capital. Come up to my office, and you can tell me why you think the numbers are a problem.” A smirk crossed his lips.
“Thank you. I appreciate it.”
I followed him up the stairs and into his oversized office made up of glass windows and doors.
“Have a seat. Would you care for some coffee?”
“Actually, I would. Thank you, Mr. Kind.”
“Selena,” he shouted.
“Yes, Shaun?”
“Two coffees, please. This is Miss Morgan. Miss Morgan, my personal assistant, Selena.”
“It’s nice to meet you.” Selena extended her hand. “I don’t recall seeing your name scheduled for a meeting today.”
“She wasn’t,” Shaun said. “She was looking at one of my buildings for lease and had an issue with the numbers.” He smirked. “I have some time before my meeting, so I thought I’d hear her out.”
“Oh.” Selena smiled. “I’ll be right back with your coffees.”
“So, Miss Morgan.” He folded his hands on his desk. “Which building were you looking at?”
“The one over on Baker Street. It used to be a bakery. First of all, you’re charging way too much per square footage for the area. Second, the monthly rent amount doesn’t equal the square footage price. And when I called the realtor two weeks ago and set up the showing, the rent and price per square foot was much lower.”
Selena walked in and handed me my coffee.
“Thank you.”
“You’re very welcome.” She smiled.
“Selena, can you get me the lease listing for the building on Baker Street?”
She gave him a nod and left his office. When she returned, she handed him a file folder. He opened it up and studied the paperwork inside. Reaching over to his adding machine, he began to punch in the numbers.
“I already ran the numbers in my head earlier at the shop. I’m telling you that it doesn’t add up.”
“You’re right.” He looked at me. “It was a numerical error on our end. Or should I say the realtor’s end when they typed up the listing.” He grabbed a pen, wrote the new monthly rent down, and slid the paper across the desk. “All fixed.” He smiled.
“You’re still charging way too much per square footage.” My brow arched.
Leaning back in his chair, he folded his arms and narrowed his eyes at me.
