Page 9 of The Merger
“Why not? They wouldn’t be that far off from the truth.”
I sigh, my frustration growing. “I can come in a few times a week and change that experience. When people come in, they’ll see things thriving. They’ll feel energized. Your staff will be happier and healthier, too.”
Gannon leans forward. “If you haven’t picked up on this, Carys Johnson, I don’t really care if people are happy or not.”
Bastard.
“I’m cheap,” I say, trying not to beg.
“Good to know. Now, if you’ll step to the side, I need to change and get to a meeting.”
“You’re going to regret this decision.”
He winces. “Doubtful.”
“Do you want to see my cleavage?”Yup. That just came out of my mouth.
I start to cringe but stop. I’m this far in. Might as well play it off with confidence.
Gannon’s eyes widen for a split second before they drop to my chest.
“Carys, so help me God, I’m going to kill you,” Tate says through clenched teeth.
“Tate, I was only kidding,” I say before glancing at Gannon and winking.
Gannon runs a hand along his jaw and refuses to make eye contact with me.
“I’m desperate if you haven’t noticed,” I say, pouting. “Don’t make me go back to insurance.”
He steps to the right, but I step in front of him.He’s not getting away from me this easily.
“I’m supposed to meet with a CEO tomorrow for a consultation,” I warn, moving again to stay between him and the door. “I told Tate I’d give you first dibs since he and I are best friends,andI’ll give you a great deal.”
“One question,” he says, coming to a standstill.
I stop, too. “Shoot.”
He grins. “Do you always bring a matcha latte, or was today a special occasion?”
“Your boorishness has no effect on me, Mr. Brewer.” I smile prettily. “You don’t intimidate me.”
He licks his lips. “If I give you my business card, will you move out of my way?”
I want to say no, but I think he might pick me up and set me aside. Although the thought of Gannon’s hands on me is tempting, I’ve probably pushed my luck too far today already. Besides, if he leaves, it’ll give me time to come up with another angle of attack.
“Fine,” I say, sighing.
Gannon slides a hand into his pocket and pulls out a cream-colored business card with matte black and gold font. He plops it in my hand without touching me.
“Wait,” I say before he can flee.
I grab one of Tate’s business cards and a pen off his desk. I scribble my name and contact information on the back and hand it to Gannon.
“When you have a moment to consider my offer and inevitably change your mind, call me. Email me. Text me,” I say. “I’m here for you.”
He doesn’t look at the slip of paper before shoving it in his jacket pocket …of the suit he’s about to have laundered.Then he looks over my head.
“Tate, I’ll add the new operations meeting date to your calendar.”
