Chapter 9 #3
I shuffle in my seat so that I’m looking right at him and in the most nurturing voice I can conjure, I reason with him, the final, gentle nudge across the line.
‘Look, Stuart, your greatest asset right now is your mind. You can create something better than this game and with one million pounds, you could have the time and resources to do exactly that. Can I be honest with you?’
He nods.
‘I advised against Constant Sources making this deal at all. In my view, the risk is just too high; I can’t see beyond your not having registered your rights in the game.
Now it’s after eight at night and I’m wondering whether you want to sell this game at all.
If you don’t, that’s fine. I’ll gladly see my client walk away from this deal but I can promise you one thing: the offer on the table will not increase and you won’t get a better offer elsewhere. ’
I take the sale agreement out of my document folder and write one million pounds into the commercial schedule then rest my pen on top of the contract and slide it across the table.
‘Take the deal, Stuart.’
He looks to his lawyer, who nods without a word.
Stuart takes the pen and turns it in his fingers.
‘I had a figure in mind when I came into this room,’ he says. ‘You haven’t met it.’
Gregory sits forward, resting his forearms on the table.
‘Stuart, my lawyer has told me to walk away at one million.’ He casts an eye to me and beneath his business facade, I can tell he’s pissed that I’ve trampled his negotiation.
‘I will walk away. But first, let me put something else on the table for you. You can take one million; that’s my top offer.
Or, you can take seven hundred and fifty thousand and come to work for me.
At Constant Sources, from this office in London.
’ He leans back and re-crosses his legs.
‘I think you’ve got something, a hunger in your eyes, business in your mind, and I like that.
I also think that, with guidance, you could be a solid creator.
You’re nineteen; take this opportunity and come to me whilst you work out which you are: an entrepreneur or a designer. ’
Stuart’s entire body visibly softens and his eyes widen.
‘I was once in your position, stuck between wanting to create something and making money. Making money was the right path for me but I had to find out the hard way. I’m offering you a chance to take five years to earn some money and make that decision in a risk-free environment.
If in five years you want to set up on your own, great, you’ll have the world at your feet with a good CV in your pocket. ’
‘I’d like to think about it,’ Stuart says, his voice catching in his throat.
Gregory shakes his head. ‘That isn’t part of the offer. Sign now or walk away.’
The pair stare at one another for seconds that feel much longer. There’s something in the air between them. Admiration? Mutual respect?
Eventually, and as his lawyer looks on, Stuart says, ‘Where do I sign?’
* * *
Once the documents are signed, handshakes are exchanged and I show Stuart and Markus to the lifts. I watch as the numbers descend, 27, 26, 25, 24, delaying Gregory’s inevitable wrath. I stole his show and now there’ll be some well-earned fireworks.
I take another lift to the twenty-eighth floor and reluctantly walk, contract in hand, to Gregory’s office. He’s standing by the window, shoulders back, hips slightly forward, calves taut in his tailored trousers. He’s braced for war. With a deep breath, I step into my lion’s den.
He keeps his back to me but watches me through the window, jaw tense. At first, he doesn’t speak. I know how hard he’s trying to control his temper. Then he snaps. ‘What the hell did you think you were doing?’
I sigh. ‘Gregory, it’s eleven-thirty, I’m already tired and I have to finalise this deal; can we talk about this later?’
‘We’ll talk about it now!’ His South African twang is stronger than ever.
I consider apologising and walking away but I know I was right. Instead, I fold my arms across my chest and stand tall in my heels. ‘Fine. Talk.’
‘You had no right jumping in like that.’
‘Oh, really, I had no right? I was stopping you from making a bigger mistake than the one-million-pound mistake you were already making! You were about to offer him more, and for what?’
‘You could have lost us the deal.’
‘And if I had, I wouldn’t be sorry. That deal is high risk and my advice to walk away was sound.’
He takes two steps towards me. The sinews of his neck are stretched tight beneath his late-day stubble. Christ, he’s sexy.
‘To succeed in business, you have to take risks.’
I take one step forward.
‘I’m not opposed to taking reasoned commercial risks, Gregory, but I can’t advise a client to take nonsensical risks.’
‘Advise, Scarlett. Exactly. That’s what I pay you to do. I pay you to advise me of the legal risks but it’s my decision, mine, whether to accept that advice or to take the risk.’
I move another step forward until only inches of air separate us.
‘That’s where you’re wrong. You’re not my client. Constant Sources is my client for this gig and I’m here to act in the best interests of the company, not yours, or those of your overly endowed ego.’
He bends until I can feel his hot breath on my face.
‘I am Constant Sources. I am the GJR group. I decide who you do or don’t work for.’
‘No. I decide who I work for and if you don’t like the way I work, I’ll close this deal and you don’t have to hear my legal advice again.’
‘Fine.’
‘Fine.’
I stare into his eyes, heart jackhammering with fury. I won’t back down because I’m right. I’ll stare and stare into those big. Brown. Captivating eyes.
Like a pouncing South African cat hungry for its prey, his lips are on mine, fast and ferocious. He pulls up my dress and lifts my legs around his waist.
I want him. My mind tells me. My body shows me. My nipples harden, craving his contact. My bud swells, crying out for him to take me.
I ball my fists in his hair as he carries me to the sofa, his mouth continuing his wild attack.
‘I’m going to fuck you. Hard. Because you deserve it.’ His words are husky, laced with desperation.
‘Gregory, I need to complete the deal,’ I say through ragged breaths, already knowing I’ll relent.
‘Not now.’ His teeth clamp down on my neck. ‘Your client is a dick anyway.’
I pull my head back from his. ‘Too true,’ I say, with a smug grin.
He sinks me back against the sofa and forces my legs further apart as he moves between them. He sits back, leaving me bereft, then stretches the thin lace of my knickers with both hands until he can puncture the material with his thumbs and he tears it away from my aching sex.
He leans down, roughly retaking my mouth, twisting his tongue with mine, pulling my lip harshly in his teeth as he cups my breasts through my dress.
My hips rise to push against his erection, forcing a growl from his chest. He moves his hand from my breast to thrust two fingers into me, teasing my swollen insides.
‘Gregory.’ His name leaves my mouth on a pant. His fingers withdraw, then they’re in my mouth and I suck my own wetness from him.
He moves quickly, sitting back on his heels and freeing his hard shaft from his trousers and boxers. ‘Turn over.’ His words are dripping in sex.
I do as I’m told, turning to kneel on all fours, bracing my body with my hands on the arm of the sofa. With one foot on the floor, one knee on the sofa, he rams himself deep inside me, making me cry out. With his hands on my hips, he holds himself buried inside me.
‘Please, Gregory.’
‘Please what?’
‘Fuck me.’
He moves out and in slowly, then quicker and faster again, until he’s rousing me to the brink of a powerful orgasm.
He keeps one hand on my hips, bracing himself and making sure he can crash into me, hard, like he promised.
The other hand moves to my clit and sends my pulsing muscles into spasm as he swirls with his finger and continues to drive into me from behind.
‘Jesus!’ he barks.
His hoarse voice is the final push I need. As his rhythms speed up, back and front, he shows me who’s boss.
Both hands move back to my hips and with two more gruelling thrusts, he releases into me.