Silence was a negotiator’s best weapon and he unsheathed it, wielding it with the ease of years of practice. Most people broke only a minute or two in. The soundlessness made most nervous, it made the doubts in their heads louder. But once again, Clover proved she wasn’t most people. She sat straight in the steel-gray club chair across from his desk, her hands folded in her lap and her legs crossed at the ankle. Put her in different clothes and she’d look like a debutante sitting for her portrait, confident she was about to take over the world.
Clover leaned forward as though about to speak, and Sawyer knew he had her. She’d probably counter at seven and they’d end at $5,500. Not too bad a price to pay for someone capable of keeping his mom at bay.
“I can see working with you is going to be very demanding and, after meeting your mother, a serious challenge. Twelve.” One side of her mouth lifted, and he had the gut-sinking suspicion that he’d just walked into a trap. “Final offer.”
What the…?
Sawyer couldn’t remember the last time someone had surprised him in a negotiation. Or won. Doubling down, he leaned forward and placed his elbows on the desk. No way was he going to lose. She had to be bluffing. “Six thousand. Final offer.”
She let out a lengthy sigh and stood up. “And now you’re showing that you’re just as difficult to work with as your mother. Fifteen thousand or you’d better get used to boring lunches discussing the latest fashions.”
Sawyer blinked. And for the first time ever, he had no idea how to respond in a negotiation. Maybe she actually would be worth the money if she maneuvered his mother as expertly as she bargained. She started to reach for her purse as though to leave, and he knew he’d lost. “Sit down, Ms. Lee. I believe we have a deal.”
“Agreed.” A self-satisfied smile tipped her lips upward as she sat back down. “One last thing, I’ll need to be an independent contractor not an employee.”
“Why?” he asked before he could stop himself, still trying to catch up to the fact that he’d just been out-negotiated by a woman who’d earned a living bouncing from one ridiculous job to another.
Her steady gaze skittered away to the left before snapping back to him. “I don’t like being tied down.”
A lie or too much of the truth? It shouldn’t matter, but for some reason it did. “That explains your resume.”
Up went her stubborn chin. “Is there a document outlining my job duties?”
“There will be.” With a few taps and swipes on his monitor, he opened up a new document and then pulled out the shelf hidden into the frame of his desk where he kept his wireless keyboard. “Obviously you’ll need to be available 24/7.” He typed it out in bullet points. Fast. Efficient. Concise. “When you’re not acting as my buffer, you can help Amara with overflow work.”
“Why do you need a buffer?” she asked, grabbing the heavy chair by its arms and scooting it closer while she was still sitting in it. “Is your mom really that bad?”
His fingers faltered for a second and his mind went blank before the ingrained training fell into place. The first lesson in growing up as one of Harbor City’s elite was that no one talked openly about anything that could even tangentially be considered unpleasant.
“No.” He resumed typing out office tasks such as data backups and scheduling. “She’s wonderful. She’s just a little obsessed with marrying me off.”
Why did he say that? What was going to come out next? That his first crush had been his brother’s math tutor?
Clover leaned in close, as if exchanging this kind of personal information was the same as asking about the weather. “And you’re not the marrying kind?”
He pulled at his tie, his collar suddenly tighter than it had been a few minutes ago. “No. I’m the working kind.” Glancing down at her resume, her international experience caught his attention. “Do you speak other languages?”
She nodded, gliding her fingers across his bare desk as if she was unconsciously searching for something to fidget with. “I can speak Spanish, French, passable Mandarin, passable Thai, and Malay.”
A lightbulb went off. “As in the Malay spoken in Singapore?”
“Yep, I just got back a week ago from six months there teaching English.”
Negotiations for the deal in Pulau Ujong, Singapore’s largest island and the home to most of its population, had stalled with Mr. Lim. Bringing in someone more familiar with the culture and the language might just be what he needed to get to an agreement.
“I’m working to close a deal right now to build a trio of high-rises in Singapore,” he said. “Your insight may be valuable, but mostly I’ll need you for social events and at the office as backup for Amara.”
“She can’t send away your mom?” Clover asked.
He snorted. “Amara can do just about anything, but my mom mows her over. Mom convinced my dad to hire Amara years ago even though she had zero training or experience, and so Amara has a soft spot for her.”
“Why can’t you tell your mom to leave you alone?” she pressed.
God. How many times had he asked himself that same question since she’d started her Marry Off Sawyer campaign? More than he had dollars in the bank. But facing down Helene Carlyle wasn’t about being louder or more stubborn or blowing her off. Like mother like son, that approach just made both of them dig in deeper. Working around the force of will that was his mother took charm and finesse, something Sawyer had in very limited supply, if any at all. Plus, she was his mom, and you didn’t have to be Catholic to have the guilt that came along with disappointing your own mother.
“You met her for about two minutes.” He hit print on the document. The list of job tasks would be waiting for Clover in the outer office as soon as she walked out the doors. “I’ve known her my whole life. When the woman has the bit between her teeth, it takes a helluva lot to dissuade her. I just need some time to come up with a way to do that. Six weeks sounds just about right.” He stood, needing movement to shove back the uncomfortable questions Clover raised. “Amara will show you to HR so you can fill out all the necessary forms and sign the nondisclosure agreement.” A discreet beep sounded from his monitor’s speaker, and a reminder for tonight’s gala popped up on the screen. “Damn.”
“Problem?” Clover asked, peeking around the edge of his monitor as if that wasn’t intrusive at all.
“I’ll need you to attend the Harbor City General Charity Gala with me tonight.” There was no way he was facing his mom alone after what had gone down today.
Clover jerked upright, her eyes wide. “Tonight?”
“I’ll pick you up at seven.” Gut tightening, he strode to his office door and opened it. “Be sure to leave your home address with Amara.”
Clover walked past him, muttering something he couldn’t quite make out. He should have shut the door as soon as she passed through, but he didn’t. Instead, he watched her turn that bright smile on Amara and wondered what in the hell Hudson had just gotten him into.
Chapter Three