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Ana is standing with her back to me as I approach the bar. Clearing my throat, I signal my presence. She turns around, and our eyes meet, instantly captivating me with her beauty and a strange sense of familiarity. She observes me with a perplexed expression.
“I hope I'm in the right place. I'm looking for the owner of this building,” I say, attempting to break the silence.
“I'm the owner,” she responds glaring at me, and I remember what she mentioned during the interview. She spoke of this business, the one she was forced to shut down. What are the odds? A wave of understanding washes over me as I grasp the significance of what I'm about to do. I don't consider myself heartless, but sometimes I must make tough decisions when it comes to business.
“Ana, what are the odds? I suppose I don't need to introduce myself,” I say, flashing a wide grin, hoping to thaw the frosty temper radiating from her.
“No, you don't,” she replies stiffly, her eyes whipping me with icy fire.
She pushes a cup of coffee toward me and suggests, “Why don't you sit and enjoy some coffee? I need to use up the last of it anyway.” I gaze at her momentarily, then shift my attention to the cup. Tentatively, I bring it closer to my lips, enticed by its delightful aroma. However, her intense gaze prevents me from taking a sip.
Our eyes lock in a defiant stare, neither yielding, nor showing any sign of flinching. Finally, she takes a sip from her coffee and closes her eyes momentarily. Is that a tear I see? Oh God, is she planning to use her tears as a negotiation tactic?
Nice try.
I'm a seasoned businessman, and tears won't work on me.
But I really don’t want to make this woman cry.
Well, I do want to make her cry, I correct myself. But not like that. I wouldn’t mind hearing her cry out my name while she comes around my cock.
Man, get a grip and focus.
“Did I do something wrong? You seem upset.” I attempt to shake off all thoughts of sex and regain my composure. The pressure from the board to expand our space has been incessant, and I also need the building to house the new projects I’m envisioning. I'm eager to settle this today.
“This building has been in my family for generations.” Her tone simultaneously carries a hint of sorrow and accusation.
“For three generations, to be precise. My grandparents, my parents, and myself,” she says, her voice trembling. “And now, it's gone, driven out of business by soulless corporations that have crept into my neighborhood, infringing on my market share and the relationships I have built for years.”
Uncertain of what to say, I simply observe and listen, captivated by her words. Her eyes are piercing through me as if searching for something deeper.
I want to wrap her in my arms and comfort her.
“Look, Ana, I understand you're going through a difficult situation. My goal is to negotiate a sale. The circumstances surrounding your building are unfortunate, but I'm here to offer you a fair deal,” I assert, hoping to steer the conversation and my mind back to business.
Ana takes her time to respond, and I wait patiently. Finally, she sets her mug down and asserts with authority, “You're on my turf now. This building is still in my name, and I'll only sell it if my terms are met. I won't settle for anything less than an agreement that respects the essence of what this place once was.”
A surge of admiration washes over me. “Challenge accepted, Ana. Let's discuss the terms, the price, and the conditions that will satisfy both of our visions.”
“You're not the type of person I had in mind to sell to. I’d prefer the buyer was another small business owner. Not someone like you.”
Someone like me?
“That is direct.”
“What are your intentions for this building?” she questions, her tone dripping with skepticism.
I would consider firing her on the spot if she weren't so intriguing and I didn't desperately need someone to start shouldering some of my mundane day-to-day tasks.
But first, I need to secure the purchase of the building.
“I plan to renovate it into an office building,” I reply. She slowly nods in agreement.
“That’s a good start. At least it won’t be a new condo development for the ultra-wealthy.” She takes a deep breath and declares, “I want a say in what goes into this building.”
I am taken aback by her boldness, unable to suppress a chuckle.
“No, I don't think so. Once I buy this building, it's mine. Why would I give you any say in what I do with my property?” I respond, amused by her earnestness.
