Page 29 of Stalked
Elliot tilts his head, studying my expression. “I sense your hesitation runs deeper than professional concerns.” He reachesinto his jacket pocket and retrieves a small leather notebook. “Perhaps we can find a more persuasive arrangement.”
He writes something down, tears out the page, and slides it across my desk.
When I look at the number, I actually gasp. It's not just double my current salary anymore—it's nearly triple my current salary.
“That's...” I clear my throat, trying to regain my composure. “That's an extremely generous offer.”
“I don't believe in half measures, Ms. Morgan. When I find talent worth investing in, I ensure there are no financial barriers to acquiring it.”
I stare at the figure again, calculating its significance. Student loans gone within months, not years. A substantial investment portfolio. Financial security that I never imagined possible at thirty-three.
“With the performance bonuses,” Elliot adds, “you could potentially earn even more.”
I take a deep breath. Every practical part of me knows this opportunity is too good to refuse, regardless of what—or who—waits in Ravenwood.
“I accept,” I say before I can talk myself out of it. “But I'll need time to transition.”
Elliot's smile broadens. “Excellent decision.”
“When would you want me to start?” I ask, already mentally cataloging everything I'll need to arrange.
“How soon can you join us? The space is ready, but the opening exhibition will require your full attention.”
“I need to give my current gallery at least two weeks' notice. I owe them that much professional courtesy.” I run a hand through my hair. “And I'll need to find somewhere to live in Ravenwood.”
“Actually,” Elliot says with a knowing smile, “I believe I can help with the housing situation as well.”
“Oh?” I raise an eyebrow, curious.
He nods, reaching for his phone. “One of my business associates recently completed a luxury residential building in downtown Ravenwood. Very exclusive, only six units in the entire building.” He scrolls through something, then turns the screen toward me. “The penthouse just became available last week.”
I take the phone from him, my eyes widening at the images. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking what appears to be a completely transformed Ravenwood skyline. Open-concept kitchen with marble countertops. Hardwood floors throughout. A master bathroom that looks like it belongs in a five-star hotel.
“This is...” I swallow, trying not to sound too impressed. “This is in Ravenwood?”
“The town has changed considerably, Ms. Morgan.” Elliot looks pleased by my reaction. “The Blackwood family has invested heavily in development.”
The mention of that name sends a chill through me, but the apartment... I can't deny it's stunning.
“What's the rent on something like this?” I ask, already assuming it's out of my price range, even with the substantial salary increase.
Elliot names a figure that makes me blink in surprise.
“That's... That's less than what I'm paying for my one-bedroom in Chelsea.”
“Property values in Ravenwood will never reach Manhattan levels,” he says with a slight smirk. “Though they're certainly heading upward.”
A penthouse. In Ravenwood. For less than my cramped New York apartment. The practical side of me can't ignore thefinancial advantages, regardless of the complications that might come with returning.
“I'll take it,” I say decisively. “If it's available immediately, that is.”
“Excellent,” Elliot replies, taking his phone back. “I'll have my assistant forward the lease agreement to your email this afternoon.” Elliot pockets his phone. “Give your notice here and we'll have everything ready for you to start working on the opening of the new gallery as soon as you're able to join us.”
His smile is confident, as though he never doubted my acceptance. Perhaps he knew the financial incentive would outweigh any hesitation I might have about returning to Ravenwood.
“I'll do that first thing tomorrow morning,” I reply, trying to match his professional tone despite the riot of emotions swirling inside me.
“Perfect.” Elliot extends his hand again, and I take it. His grip is firm, sealing our agreement with the finality of a contract. “Welcome to Chambers Gallery, Ms. Morgan. I look forward to seeing what you create with us.”
