My blood seems to chill as I realize… things are getting real. I’m about to buy a business. “I can’t afford an attorney,” I blurt out.
Carrick shakes his head in disappointment. “I suggest you get busy on figuring out a way to get the money to do so. If you’re going to become a business owner, you need legal guidance. Only fools would sign the documents I’ll be sending you without a professional legal review, as you’ll never understand the intricacies on your own. Consider that your first business lesson.”
I’m duly chastised and I know deep down he’s right. Carrick starts for the door, but my brain is already working on my most immediate problem.
“Maybe,” I murmur aloud, all for myself and not for Carrick’s input, “I’ll negotiate the cost of an attorney off the sale price. Essentially, Rich would be financing the legal fees, but he can afford it more than me, and I know he wants this sale to go through.”
Yeah… that’s actually a great idea.
I turn for the door, pulling up hard as, just for a moment, I’d forgotten Carrick was still standing there.
Once again, he seems to be intensely studying my eyes, but I’m more shocked by the slight curve of his mouth. “Very good, Miss Porter. That’s an excellent and incredibly innovative idea.”
I can’t help myself. I preen under his words of praise although I note through this whole meeting, he’s called me Miss Porter. A clear sign that he’s no longer on a first name basis with me and this is all on a professional level. I think I’ll still call him Carrick though, if for nothing more than to irritate him.
“Be at my condo at six tonight,” he says curtly, and I deflate. “We start working on you tonight.”
I don’t even have time to decline or argue with his presumptive demand since he pivots sharply and disappears out the door.
CHAPTER 11
Finley
Today has been jarringly mind-numbing. Last night, I got barely three hours of sleep after getting the most jolting news of my entire life—even more shocking than when my dad died. I worked a full day, accepted an offer to buy a business, and re-negotiated the asking price with Rich to drop it enough so my legal fees would be covered. He was especially proud of me for my work in getting the financing, so he was happy to do it. And let’s not forget the mysterious, powerful, and rich man who wants to “figure me out” and teach me fantastical things I’m still having a hard time wrapping my head around.
By all rights, I should be dead tired but instead, I’m wired as I drive my car to The Prestige. I’d received a text earlier from an unknown number that said: Drive your car tonight. The Prestige attendant will park it for you.
I had no clue who it was from, so my return text was: Who is this?
I expected a response from Carrick, but I was surprised when the response said: Zaid.
I immediately programmed him in as a contact in my phone, wondering if I should ask for a last name, but then decided with a name like Zaid, he probably didn’t have one.
Sort of like Cher. It just stood well on its own.
There’s no doubt I don’t belong anywhere near this elite residential establishment as I pull my little Subaru into the wide paved arch with a fancy portico overhang to protect from the rain.
I may not belong, but I’m clearly expected as a man in tailcoats opens my door and graciously says, “Welcome to The Prestige, Miss Porter.”
I can’t help but be impressed, and maybe a little weirded out, how he knows who I am and what car I’d be driving. But more likely than not, Carrick or Zaid told them to expect someone in a poor person’s car, and that would be Miss Porter.
“Thanks,” I mumble, grabbing my backpack from the passenger seat before sliding out.
I watch the man get in my car, wondering if I should tell him it sometimes sticks in first gear, but he manages to transition smoothly away, pulling out onto the street to presumably valet in the building’s underground garage around the block.
Inside the lobby, I’m greeted by name from a male concierge behind the desk. “Good evening, Miss Porter. You can go to the door that leads to Mr. Byrne’s private elevator. I’ll unlock it remotely for you.”
I give him a nod and a slight smile, veering off to the right side of the lobby past the bank of elevators that lead the regular residents to their condos, then to a locked door that has a key-code panel. Carrick’s code was long, but I don’t need to know it because the light is green and the door opens easily when I push down on the handle.