Chapter 5 #2
He smirks a bit, half apologetically. “Hassled and harassed. Strong words. It won’t happen again, Emma. I’m sorry.” He looks me dead in the eye. His demeanour and posture cocksure of himself. A man in total control of his surroundings.
“Jude. Hello.” He turns his head and then stands as a man walks up to our table, ignoring the fact that he’s with company. How rude.
“Hi, Graham. Good to see you.” He’s shaking hands with a good-looking man in his forties. He looks familiar. Then it hits me—he’s on a sports channel my boys watch. “This is Emma Lincoln of Synergy Recruitment and her executive assistant, Louise Belmond.”
We smile and shake hands as we’re introduced to Graham Foster. Louise has recognised Graham and is prodding me under the table. I’m more taken by the fact Jude has seemingly done his research. Louise definitely did not offer up her surname, yet it’s tripped off his tongue like silk.
“I hope Jude is treating you all well,” the interloper offers.
We all smile politely, but I’m so frustrated, my teeth are gritted together.
“Can I get ten minutes before you go. Just want to confirm some details about the charity event.” Graham is all over Jude like a rash.
Openly fundraising. A confirmation is given and Graham makes his exit.
“Sorry about that, occupational hazard. Fund raises.” Jude grins cheekily at us.
Louise is back to her dazed look. “Well, I’m sure we won’t take up much more of your time. Shall we get to the point of this meeting." She looks sharply at me, punching my thigh three times under the table, clearly trying to get me to focus and play the game.
“A woman who likes to get to the heart of the matter. Yes, let's do that.” He sits back and waits for me to talk, a bland look coming over his face. Impassive.
I’m shocked. I thought he’d go full pitch mode, talk about how great he is, how great his company is.
How great it would be that he buy my building out from underneath me.
Actually make his fantastic and absolutely un-turndownable offer.
But he doesn’t. He does none of that, and we sit in silence, looking at each other.
For about an hour. No, maybe not. I’m sure it’s not more than a minute, or maybe just twenty seconds.
Hells bells. I didn’t do enough practising on the silence rule.
“You asked us here, Mr Greystone. Do you want to buy my building? And if so, how much?”
He says nothing, continues to wait. He looks at Louise, a frown furrowing his brow and his hand going to the back of his neck, puzzlement marring his handsome features.
“Please call me Jude. And I didn’t ask you here. You emailed me. You know I’m interested in your building. My team has evidently been bugging you. And yes, I would like to buy it if possible. First and foremost, is it for sale? You haven’t been very clear on that front.”
Again he sits and waits. Moments go by, then he looks up sharply as someone else starts to approach the table.
His face showcases his annoyance. The cold, hard, businessman peeks through the facade.
He’s not as nice and fluffy as he’s making out he is.
Graham has opened the floodgates, as I spot at least another two looking over at us, obviously making plans for an attack.
He puts his hand up to halt the approaching friend. Mouthing that he’s in a meeting, he shuffles his chair to the right so he’s out of view of the whole restaurant.
“Apologies. Friday is normally a very social night for me. So much business gets done here, people forget you may actually be entertaining friends.”
Louise and I look at each other. We are definitely not in the friends category. We’re not even high profile enough for him to think of us as business associates.
“But we are business and are not friends, Mr Greystone.” My voice is so low now as I remind him of his error. This is ridiculous. This meeting is making me feel like I’m in high school. He’s a popular boy, and we’re lowly also-rans.
“Please call me Jude.” His voice is on automatic pilot, but I hear the slight annoyance in the undertone.
“I’d rather not. And my building may be for sale. It would depend on any offers.” I pause for a split second and add, “And intentions for it.”
One of his eyebrows tweaks upwards slightly. But that's all the reaction I get. Hell, I’ll bet he’s a good poker player.
“My intention is to buy it, if possible. What I chose to do with the building afterwards should be of no concern to you. Our deal will be completed. You can’t expect me to buy it and you continue to have a say in what I do with it?
” His voice is monotone, cold. Now we’re seeing the real Jude Greystone. The mogul. The CEO businessman.
“I’ve heard you want to knock it down. What would happen to all the community work, the clubs?”
He doesn’t answer. Just stares at me. Then he sighs. And my face flushes again. It feels like he's about to chastise an errant child.
But he surprises me again, switching tactics again.
“I’d like to landscape the park area adjacent to your building.
Regardless of any agreement, sale, or purchase.
I've got some award-winning gardeners in mind. I’m happy to cover the costs.
You can have final say on the designs and plans.
” He’s handing out sweets like confetti.
“We have a gardening team,” I hit back. “It’s a local horticultural society, and it supports local kids who don’t have access to green spaces. Helps them understand how to grow things. I set it up just before Christmas.” I’m so proud of this little club, I let them use the space for free.
“The gardeners I’ve reached out to won a gold medal at Chelsea Flower Show this year. You may want to consider them.” His lazy dismissal of my gardening team pushes all my buttons. Of course his would be better.
“You may not consider supporting kids in using open spaces and growing things as worthwhile or Gold Medal. But I do.” My tone has an edge to it. Not a nice one.
“I didn’t say that. And I’m not dismissive. I just think we can work together on it. The gold medalists can still come, and your gardeners could learn something from them. I’m sure it would be beneficial for everyone. It’s not everyday that Chelsea gold medal winners turn up on your doorstep.”
The smug bastard.
Louise nips my leg. Owww. “I’d love to see the plans,” she gets in. “The gardening group would love it.” She gives me a warning glance. She thinks I’m being unreasonable.
Like two boxers in a ring, we go back to our corners as the wait staff clear away our hardly touched plates—other than Louise’s, who’s eaten everything—and my near empty wine glass.
They place down the most mouthwatering delicious foods, and yet more wine.
New glasses for each course. I pick up my water glass.
Keep a hold of this glass only, I tell myself.
Jude continues to stare at me, but suddenly leans forwards.
“Look, Emma, let's not play games. Do you want to sell? Yes or no.” The gloves have well and truly come off. His face is a mask of concentration. And I know I’m looking into the businessman's face now. The multimillion if not multibillion pound owner of half of London. “I’m prepared to negotiate on price. I’m a fair man.
But you seem to harbour some misapprehension about me.
I’m not here to steal your building. I don’t want to trick you.
I’m asking. Being up front. I’d consider it good manners if you were the same. ”
The cheek of him. Insulting me. Well I won’t fall into his trap to rile me. So I ignore him. “Do you intend to knock it down?” I raise my chin. I know I don’t have any right to know, he’s right on that front, but it could affect my decision.
“Yes.” He states flatly and sits back. His face is a completely blank canvas. How can he be so unfeeling?
“Then no. It’s not for sale,” I spit out at him. My rational mind deserting me, my face shows all my emotions. I’ve let him win on the button-pushing.
He sighs again. What is with the sighing?
“Would you rather I lied to you?” His voice is so soft now.
What is this tactic? It wasn’t on his podcast. There was no mention of bedroom eyes and seductive voices.
No chapters for that. “Do you want me to tell you I’ll keep it going.
Let the community still use it.” His voice is an absolute caress, running over my skin like water.
Louise has nearly fainted. My mouth is open in shock.
What the hell is going on here? “Tell you I’ll dump my gold medal winners and let your community landscape my garden.
Allow the world to use it.” He pauses as he leans forwards towards me.
I’m in his thrall. “Let you carry on your business upstairs, whilst my VVIPs are running around outside being accosted by the crazy gang you have in there all week. Shall I lie to you like everyone else has? Do you believe me? Would you? Right up until the point where I tip you all out.” His voice has changed now. It’s all hard edges.
“Everyone tells lies. Especially businessmen,” I hiss out, snapping out of my trance-like state.
“I am not everyone. I think you’re projecting your past onto this deal. Bringing your baggage to the negotiating table. You haven’t given me a straight answer yet at all. I’ve been upfront with you, but you haven’t been with me.”
I gasp. He’s getting blunter, if that’s possible. What a presumption. And he’s definitely been checking up on me, us.
“My past has nothing to do with you. Or this deal.”
“I beg to differ.” God he’s so cocky. “Look, Emma, I don’t want to fight.
I want to buy. If it’s not for sale, then say so.
I’ll go about my plans in other ways and elsewhere.
” His brown eyes are trained on me now. He considers his next sentence, and then hits me full force with his words.
“But your business needs a cash injection. You’re haemorrhaging money.
Losing contracts left right and centre. Sell to me now for a good price.
Otherwise, you could end up having to sell faster, and I can simply buy it for less when your business goes down the toilet and then bust. Your choice. ”
Good cop bad cop. He’s managing it all by himself, playing every part to perfection.
Louise puts a hand on my leg. My face must be a total picture. But his eyes never flinch from mine.
“That building means a lot to my family. It means a lot to me and the community. And yes, I may be haemorrhaging money from my business, but I’ve started from scratch once before when faced with lying scumbags.
I can do it again.” I pause, sitting taller in my seat, my insinuation landing with full force, my views of him clear.
“I may have issues with trusting people, but that doesn’t affect my judgement.
I don’t want the building obliterated. I don’t want the clubs that we encourage to die.
So, Mr Greystone, the building is not for sale. ”
“Please call me Jude.” It’s said like a bullet from a gun. “Ten million.” He states it like it’s ten pence. And he smirks. He’s back to Mr Charming, even putting on a show with his dimples.
I stand and look down at Louise, who looks like she’s gone into shock. I’m not sure if it’s the dimples or the ten million. God knows what I look like.
“Not. For. Sale.” I pick up my bag decisively, trying to hide my shaking hands.
“Don’t be hasty.” His lazy smirk is making my blood boil.
“That’s life changing money for you and your boys.
It’s a genuine offer. No hidden clauses.
Ten million. A quick turn around, six weeks tops.
You could be on a beach by Easter.” The arrogance of the man is unbelievable.
Dangle a carrot big enough and everyone will do what you want.
“I don’t do the sun, Mr Greystone.” My Mediterranean day-dream goes up in smoke. “Not. For. Sale. Louise, let’s go. We’re done here.”
He stands, putting us nose to nose. “Please call me Jude.” He states it automatically.
He’s all business now. His charades all completely dropped.
“Emma, that money could set your business up anywhere in the world. It releases capital to you. Think about it. It’s a great deal for both of us.
Sentiment has no place in business. You know this.
You’re experiencing it on a week to week basis. ”
Fucking hell. He knows all about my fucking ex-husband. Probably been laughing it up with Terry and Nigel at the Chamber of Commerce business dinners.
“Don’t judge me on the same level as my ex-husband or former business partner. I believe business is all about sentiment. Doing what’s right and giving back. Without it, what do we have? Do your buildings keep you warm at night? Are they the reason you get up in the morning?”
“Don’t try to judge me or my reasons for working as I do.” His face is like stone now as he turns my own words back on me.
Oh shit, I’ve well and truly pissed him off. Well, right back at you, Greystone.
“I’m not judging. I call it as I see it. You may think it’s just about the money. But I don’t.”
“With respect, Emma, you do not know me. Or anything about me.” His eyes are like chips of obsidian. His features are cut from stone.
“I know you want to tear a building down to create a car park for you VVIP’s. Putting out lots of community groups, who will probably fold, and people will be adversely affected. That is what I find.”
He says nothing. He looks down, and although his eyes do not change, a smile appears on his face. It looks like it’s tearing at his skin.
“In that case, I have my answer. It was a pleasure to meet you both. I hope you enjoy the rest of your evening. Please stay and enjoy the food. It’s all paid for.”
He steps back, nods his head, and walks away. Never stopping to speak to anyone in the restaurant, never looking back. Smiling but simply waving at people as he leaves.
I sit back down with a bit of a thump. “What just happened?” I look at Louise in bewilderment. I’m not sure whether to laugh or cry. Maybe both at the same time.
“You told Jude Greystone no. No to his ten million.” She side-eyes me and picks up her wine. “And, oh yeah, fuck off,” she deadpans, taking a huge gulp.