Chapter 3
Chapter Three
Liesel
Oh. My. God.
This man is unreal.
I can’t believe—actually, yes, I can—he’s that fucking presumptuous.
The email from Jorge is flirtatious at best, scandalous at worst. I read back through mine, already knowing what it says, having read it five times before sending it.
I wrote it in English since I’m completely fluent and have been since grade school, but I translated it back into German just to be on the safe side.
Nothing about Jorge Diaz made me think he was the flirtatious type. I think he’s the most attractive man I’ve ever seen, and I’m sure others agree, considering Alex asked about him twice. But he didn’t show any interest in me.
Alex’s curiosity made him my number one target for investigation. Turns out he’s just a horny young man who is certain Jorge isn’t interested in him either. But Alex didn’t mind looking and making jokes even if he couldn’t touch.
I can’t force myself to close the email. Instead, I read it yet again.
Dear Ms. Schlossberg,
I am very well, though I am having to be creative about how I stay warm here in Zurich.
I hope you’re not suffering the same. We can’t consider a future relationship if one of us is frigid.
I’m willing to come around to the idea of working with your firm, but I will only agree if you are my sole point of contact.
Unfortunately, your company’s poor choices won’t go unpunished.
If both parties consent to a new arrangement, your firm will take 0.
5% rather than the initially proposed 1% fee.
Rather than the standard 20% profit share, you will accept 15%. These are non-negotiable compromises.
I look forward to your response.
Sincerely Yours,
Jorge
“Anne.”
I look up from my computer to find my father looming in my doorway. He states my name as though he’s not interrupting me. He’d never consider asking if I was in the middle of something. Time stops when Gunter Schlossberg demands your attention.
Without shifting my gaze, I click on the browser tab and close the email.
“Ja, Papa.”
He walks to my desk and crosses his arms as we continue in German.
“Have you spoken to Enrique or Matáis?”
“No. I just received an email from the younger Herr Diaz.”
“We’re not dealing with someone who storms out in a tantrum. We will only communicate with Enrique or Matáis.”
Now I’m annoyed.
First, Jorge insists I be the only point of contact. Now my father insists I only communicate with Jorge’s uncles. I’ll talk to whoever the fuck I want to.
Who’s having the tantrum?
“Papa, the younger Herr Diaz agreed to consider working with us again. However, it’s at a lower commission.”
“Lower than one percent?”
“Yes, but not below what’s standard. He’ll agree to half a percent.”
“Ridiculous. And I suppose he wants fifteen percent for the profit share.”
Did he read my email?
It wouldn’t surprise me if my father commanded IT to route all emails to him before going to employees.
“It could be worse. He could’ve suggested ten.”
My father’s left eye narrows. He doesn’t care for my forced pleasant optimism. We both know it doesn’t come naturally.
“No. We aren’t some non-profit charity. We run a business to make money. There will be other clients. Unless you hear those terms from Enrique or Matáis, I refuse.”
I curl my toes in my shoes since I can’t curl my fingers into fists without him seeing. He tries my patience on the best of days.
“Papa, even with the deal changing and the percentages lowering, we stand to make more this quarter than we have in the last three. This is too good a deal to pass up. We’re fortunate the Diazes are even considering returning to the table.
They could tell everyone in the finance world what happened.
They could blackball us, making it so no one trusts us.
No one hires us. Then where would we be? ”
“You catastrophize.”
I lean back in my seat and stare at him for a moment before cocking an eyebrow.
“You look like Mutti when you do that.”
He should know. My mother’s been giving him this look for nearly forty years. My father blusters while my mother conveys everything with a single expression.
“Fine.” He concedes and unfolds his arms but shakes his head.
“Papa, it’s for the best. He and his family are right to be angry. Someone—” I raise the other eyebrow. “—disclosed that confidential information. Stop while we’re still ahead. I’ll email him and let him know we’ll accept the new terms.”
“This is on you, Anne. This is your account. If anything goes wrong, I’ll only be looking at you.”
My father turns away and walks to the door, but before he can leave, I have more to say.
“Don’t set me up to fail again, Papa.”
He looks over his shoulder at me, his expression harsh. Mine now matches his.
“You didn’t fail, Anne. You won. Make sure Jorge understands that.”
He walks out, shutting the door behind him. He has a fucked-up way of thinking of victory. He nearly destroyed the deal, tests me to see if I’ll stand up to him, then considers getting the deal regardless of the lower commission a win.
I suppose today the glass is half full.
Dear Mr. Diaz,
Normally, we wouldn’t accept such reduced terms. However, we acknowledge we’re responsible for the precipitating events. We accept your proposal and look forward to working with you. My assistant will forward the required documents for your review and signature.
Respectfully,
Anneliese
There.
Nothing to misinterpret about that.
I reach for the phone to tell Johan to send the email I requested he prepare as soon as my father left my office. I could see him working on it through my office’s glass wall. Before I can hit the intercom button, a new email appears in my inbox.
That was way too fast.
Dear Ms. Schlossberg,
Your response pleases me. I believe you’re making headway with this deal. I’m prepared to deliver on my promise now that we’ve handled that part of our business. Shall I come to you? I can be in your office tomorrow morning.
Sincerely Yours,
J
An email shouldn’t affect my pussy, but it does.
Fuck me.
Like, please, fuck me.
As though the email itself wasn’t grossly informal at best, he signed it with just an initial.
That feels—intimate. I’m in a committed relationship and live with my boyfriend.
Nothing should be intimate between me and another man.
I shouldn’t have any thoughts about another man fucking me.
The image of him undressing me and fucking me against a wall is more intense than the part of me that remembers I’ve always been faithful in relationships.
I refuse to reply right now. Instead, I buzz Johan and tell him to send everything to Jorge.
I barely catch myself and remember to call him Herr Diaz.
German business culture has relaxed over the past few decades, but we’re still German.
Punctuality, professional appearance, hierarchy, and honorifics still matter in many workplaces.
They certainly do here. I can’t imagine a single employee calling my father Gunter to his face.
I address him as Vater—Father—when we’re in public.
Never Papa. I doubt he’d respond if I did.
I wait until it’s time for me to leave, then I send my email.
Dear Mr. Diaz,
I have meetings all morning, but I am available between 13:00 and 15:00. Please let me know what works best for you.
Respectfully Yours,
Hmmm.
A
I have no meetings in the morning. I just don’t need him to believe I want to see him first thing. I won’t appear eager. I’ll appear busy but willing to fit him in.
Good God. That sounds dirty.
But true.
Fuck my life.
“Hallo, mein Liebling.” Hello, my darling.
“Hallo, Bastian.”
My boyfriend wraps his arm around my waist, and I lean in for his kiss. It’s open-mouthed but appropriate for public. I rest my head against his chest, and after a long day, it’s familiar. I relax, and he gives me a squeeze. He adjusts my hood against the wind as we pull apart.
“How was your day? I missed you last night.” Bastian slides his hand into mine after he opens the restaurant door.
I wait until he steps beside me before I answer. “The same as usual.”
“Too long and too stressful. What did your father do today?”
I shoot him a rueful expression and am about to shake my head when I recognize a face among the diners.
What the fuck is he doing here?
Jorge.
Who the fuck is she?!
What the hell was that visceral reaction?
As though he senses me, Jorge looks up from his dinner partner and meets my gaze. He nods and shoots me a quick smile before dismissing me and turning his attention back to his—date. I can only see the woman’s profile, but she’s stunning.
Sophisticated.
Clearly wealthy.
Beautiful.
And older.
I didn’t take Jorge for the cougar type. Then again, I didn’t take him for the flirtatious type either. But those emails…
If he’s with someone, he definitely shouldn’t have sent ones that provocative.
And you have a boyfriend and loved every minute.
I turn away from Jorge and return my focus to my boyfriend.
Yes, boyfriend. Fucking remember that.
“How was your day, mein Schatz?” My sweetheart.
“Eventful.”
I barely hear what Bastian’s telling me as the ma?tre d’ leads us to a table. He takes us directly past Jorge and the gorgeous woman who’s laughing at something he just said. My fucking luck. Our table is next to his.
Fuck my life.
I get to watch him flirt with another woman all night. I get to examine why that bothers me until I make myself neurotic. And I have to pretend to care what Bastian says when I normally genuinely do.
“Good evening, Ms. Schlossberg.”
“Hello, Mr. Diaz. I’d like to introduce you to Bastian Klauss. Bastian, this is my firm’s new client.”