She stiffened as though readying herself to deliver a rehearsed speech. Which probably wasn’t far off the mark.
“Because, despite your reputation, I think you actually care about the wellbeing of this community, and our building project is going to help propel New Orleans. Forget the headquarters part for a minute. The section of the building that extends onto your lot is going to be used to house new nonprofit organizations that are getting off the ground. We’re doing this to make a difference. Right now, you’ve got a run-down building that’s going to cost you money to rehab or demolish, and this is a chance for you to donate it, take the tax write-off, lose the headache, and, here’s the bonus, you’ll know you’ve helped your community.”
Gritting my teeth, I reeled in my temper, which was about to jump its chain. “You’ve got balls of steel coming in here to ask me this. And not just because I could easily sell it to a developer for six figures.”
She broke our stare to look at the ground for a beat. “It’s not like this is easy for me, Con.” She glanced back up at me. “I need this, or my entire project is screwed.”
“And this should make me want to help you because…?”
She pushed off the seat and stood. “This was pointless. I don’t know what I was thinking, coming here.”
I leaned back against the wall. “Then why did you?”
She slid her zipper up and straightened her suit jacket. Once again, she was prim and proper and too damn far out of my reach.
“This is my one shot to prove I’m capable of running the foundation. So basically, I’d do anything to make this project a success. Including throw myself on your mercy.”
She crossed the small room and laid a hand on the door. A perverse part of me didn’t want to see her walk away without some promise of seeing her again. I liked this dynamic—the one where she needed something from me and I had the upper hand. It was an unexpected gift I wasn’t about to throw away.
“Anything?” I asked.
She paused, slowly turning back toward me. Her expression was guarded.
What? Did she think I was going to demand she drop to her knees and suck my dick to get what she wanted? For a fleeting second, with that image firmly in my mind, I wondered if she would. No. I wouldn’t let her whore herself out for this, even if she were willing. And she better fucking not be. She was better than that, and surprisingly, so was I.
“You ever get your hands dirty in the projects that your little foundation funds? Or do you just sit up there in your ivory tower and write checks and let other people do everything you take credit for?”
Her shoulders visibly stiffened. “I do a lot more than sit in an ivory tower and write checks.”
“Prove it.”
“How?”
I grabbed a business card off my counter and scribbled an address on the back before I held it out to her.
“Be at this address tomorrow at three o’clock.” I looked at her suit and blouse. “And wear something you ain’t afraid to get dirty.”
She took the card by the edges, as though scared to handle something I’d touched.
“You think you can manage that, princess?”
She didn’t answer, just spun and shoved open the door, as if she couldn’t wait to get away from me.
I wondered if she’d show up tomorrow. My gut said she would. But I’d just have to wait and see.
The words a deal with the devil came to mind as I sat in my car outside the deserted warehouse. I checked the address on the back of the Voodoo Ink business card for the fifth time. Surprisingly, Con’s handwriting was completely legible—almost artsy, even. Far better than my own. Which meant there was no mistaking the address. This was where I was supposed to be. No other cars were parked along the road, and I wondered if, in this neighborhood, my Mercedes would still be here when I came back out.
At this point, I was willing to sacrifice just about anything I owned if it would get me what I needed.
This project was my baby. My one shot at proving to the board and the outgoing executive director that I was capable of taking the reins when he retired at the end of the year.