Page 50 of Morally Black Betrothal
But she was the good one. I was The Black Prince.
And so I pressed on.
“But it’s harmless,” I argued. “You wouldn’t be lying to anyone who mattered.”
“Brendan, I’d literally be lying to the whole world.”
“Yeah, but we’d both know what the situation was. There’s no real dishonesty here. Nobody will get hurt in this situation.” I was talking in circles. Tap dancing around her misgivings like I was goddamn Fred Astaire.
“I understand, but I just don’t think I can do that. I’m really sorry. I hope you find someone appropriate, though.”
She pushed the contract back.
I stared at it for a long time.
Then, going against the cold, calculating skills I’d been taught my entire life, I grabbed a pen from my pocket, crossed out the original numbers at the end of the contract, and replaced them with something much larger before turning it back to her.
“Please consider my revised offer.”
Simone stared down at the amount in front of me, dollar signs and commas glaring back at her. “You’ve got to be kidding.”
I capped the pen and shoved it back into my pocket. “I’m prepared to put ten percent in your bank account today and the rest once we’re finished.”
Her finger floated over the numbers. “Brendan…”
“It’s enough for anyone to live on—and live well—for the rest of their life. And if it’s not enough…well, just tell me what it’s going to take.”
But, my conscience wondered as she continued to stare at the numbers without an answer,what if she didn’t?
Before she could turn me down again, I decided on another tactic. One that took advantage of the indecision etched across those delicate features.
“Listen. Don’t decide now. Just think about it for a little while.” I scribbled my cell phone number on the edge of the contract before handing it back to her. “Look it over. Read every detail. If you’re interested, come to my office next week to signthe contract. Or even talk about it some more, if that’s what you need. I don’t mind a good negotiation, baby. In fact, I welcome it.”
I rounded the table, conscious of the way she was watching me, like she wasn’t quite sure I was real. I’d seen that look before on countless other business owners. I knew exactly what to do with it.
She watched as I took her hand and shook it, ignoring the tiny shocks of electricity that shot down my hand yet again. One more time, I drank in the sight of her one last time before fighting the urge to kiss the flour off her nose and walking to her door. I turned back and flashed her the smile that most people couldn’t ignore. The one I’d learned through decades of shadowing the best negotiator there was: Niall Black.
“This could be good for both of us,” I told her.
“You think so?” Her eyes flickered toward the contract, then back to me.
Good. The numbers were doing their job.
“I really do. And by next week, I think you will too.”
Everyone had a price. I just needed to know hers.
12
THE CONTRACT
PSEUDO-ENGAGEMENT CONTRACT
The Parties.This service contract (“Agreement”) is by and between:
