Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 101622 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 508(@200wpm)___ 406(@250wpm)___ 339(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 101622 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 508(@200wpm)___ 406(@250wpm)___ 339(@300wpm)
“Well,” I reply, shifting my weight to the other foot. The hard concrete of the sidewalk causes my feet to ache. “Basically . . . though it’s more complicated than that.”
“I don’t have a magic wand, and I don’t deal with family restaurants, but if it’s fallen under a larger deal that’s been made, there’s no going back now. It’s done.” He turns and starts walking away again.
“It’s not done. No paperwork has been signed,” I explain, sliding up next to him. “And there’s an out clause. A fee that can be paid, but the price is too high. We could never come up with that kind of money.” My situation nor myself, apparently, doesn’t even warrant a glance from this man. “Please listen—”
His eyes strike mine like a thief in the night, stealing the bravery I had been so desperately trying to hold on to since I talked myself into this fool’s mission. The cold in his eyes doesn’t match the warmth of the spring day. It’s impressive he can produce such hatred in an instant. Guess I bring it out in him.
“Ms. Bayetti, don’t tell me to listen. I have been listening. I’ve been listening to a girl tell me nothing more than ‘save my family’s restaurant.’ I have no idea about your family’s circumstances or how they ended up under a roster of my company’s deals. I can promise you that if they are, they lost the restaurant long before we came along. Rent is due, and I’m here to collect.”
I could be insulted that I’ve been relegated to a girl and not even a woman, but he’s not entirely wrong. I don’t know what I’m doing. I felt compelled to act, even if it meant risking personal insult. If that’s the worst that happens, it’s better than losing everything else. Our eyes stay locked as I tilt my head. “At the cost of destroying a family?”
“If your family is destroyed, it wasn’t meant to survive.” He starts for the corner of the street, but stops to add, “Sorry, sweetheart. That’s the cost of business.”
“Why are you so hateful?” Glancing up at the skyscraper next to us, I say, “You have the whole world at your feet, and it’s not enough, is it? What will be? When will you be satisfied? Is it even possible anymore, or are you so far gone that there’s no concern for the ‘little people’ any longer?” I’ve been accused of speaking before I think, but I wouldn’t take back one word of what I’ve said to him.
The shake of his shoulders and a chuckle that bridges the distance between us are all I’m given in response to where he left me standing on the sidewalk. But then he stops. No laughter. His posture unrelenting in its severity. My breath catches from fear I might have just made matters worse. I brace myself, but I’m not given anything but a harsh glare.
I finally take a breath and move closer again. This time, I keep my voice lower, only for his ears to hear, and say, “You could have given me the courtesy of treating me like a human.”
“The treatment you received was from the incitement of the situation.” He moves, his head almost above mine, stopping just shy of the intrusion, probably so he can look down on me like he prefers. I gulp under the intensity of his glare, but I don’t blink. I stare into his lifeless eyes that hold nothing beyond the empty windows I can only hope used to expose someone with a heart. I doubt it. People don’t change overnight. “You need to be careful, little girl, or you might get hurt.”
“Is that a threat?” I lick my lips and take the slightest breath under the pressure cooker of this encounter before biting my tongue, so I don’t explode. That won’t serve either of us any good. Especially him.
“I don’t threaten people, Ms. Bayetti. I’m a CEO, not a mob boss. But you’re pushing luck that you don’t have.” His words coat my face followed by his breath fragranced with mint. My lids bat closed to soak—I mean gather my strength for the battle ahead.
I may be an elementary school teacher, but I’m not intimidated by him because he carries a bigger title. When I reopen them, my chest rises with anger and then releases with intent. “I’m here,” I start, keeping my voice calm, even after the earlier “little girl” insult. “Asking you to reconsider—”
“I don’t know what deal involves your family, and as you can clearly see from your stalking, I’m not at work. So there’s nothing that can be done tonight.”
Taking a step back to make sure he sees the depth of my conviction, I ask, “Tomorrow then?”
“No.”
“No?” I throw my arms out wide. “That’s it? Just no, like we don’t even matter?”