by Gina Drayer
He nodded as she walked away, feeling like the moment had been tainted by the intrusion of reality.
“Hello? Yes. No, I’m not at the hotel right now. Do you know what this is about? Fine. I can make a video call in an hour.” She ended the call and tucked the phone back in her purse.
This was it. The end of things.
“Let me guess,” he said. “Work?”
She sighed and tried to straighten her skirt, but try as she might to put back that armor of hers, Holly Carver still looked thoroughly debauched. The sight made him smile even as he knew their afternoon rendezvous was over.
“It was someone from my office. Apparently, my boss wants to talk with me.”
“On the weekend? Isn’t your office closed?”
“Mr. Whitman doesn’t believe in weekends. The office is open seven days a week and most holidays,” she said, tucking a loose strand behind her ear.
“He sounds like an asshole,” Mike said.
“Sometimes, but he’s my boss. I have to get back to the hotel and take this call.”
“I understand,” he said, grabbing the basket Arnie had left. “Duty calls.”
She looked around, sadness creeping into her features. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. I’ll walk you back down.” It was inevitable, but even knowing that going in didn’t make the loss more palatable. He took her hand as they made their way back to the elevator.
They rode in silence, although he never let go of her. When they finally reached the lower level of the garage, he walked her to the car, knowing that this was it. Once she left, they were back to opposite sides of the negotiation table.
“Can you get back to the hotel?” he asked.
“I have the GPS.” She turned back and looked at him, her brow wrinkling. “But aren’t you coming back with me?”
“No,” he said. He couldn’t. Letting Holly go was harder than he thought it would be and spending another thirty minutes in a car alone with her would be torture. “You’ve got work. I’ll just call Arnie and ask him to give me a ride.”
“You sure? I feel like I’m abandoning you.”
Funny she should say that because, in a way, that’s exactly what it felt like. But it was better this way. No long goodbye or empty promises.
“I’ll be fine. And it’s not like we aren’t going to see each other again. We still have a lot of things to discuss. Besides, Arnie will be glad to have his keys back a day early.”
“Okay.” She sounded as if she didn’t want to leave him, and he understood that feeling. But this was their reality, and they both knew it. “I’ll see you Monday.”
“Definitely,” he said. “Drive safe.”
He watched as she pulled out of the garage onto the main street. Everything was happening so fast—so much of it out of his control. He had choices to make, and he couldn’t help but think that she was an important part of that.
He called Arnie and arranged for a ride. Maybe he just needed a beer and a sympathetic ear.
11
Avoid the empathy trap.
It’s alright to be empathetic—actually, it’s a great trait to have as a negotiator. But understanding others’ needs doesn’t mean you have to give in to what they want. In a negotiation, you need to protect your own interest.
Holly didn’t know how she got back to the hotel without driving off the road. She didn’t remember the trip at all. Somehow she made her way to back to her room without incident, but she still hadn’t processed exactly what happened with Mike.
When she’d slept with him last night, she hadn’t expected the journey he’d taken her on. It wasn’t just sex. They’d shared a deeply personal connection, and being that intimate with a guy, or anyone for that matter, was not something Holly did lightly.
Now that she was back in her hotel, it all felt like a dream. But that ache in her chest was back. Putting aside her personal breakdown, for now, she changed back into one of her business suits and prepared for a face-to-face with her boss, Bill Whitman.
Thankfully the man was all business and straight to the point, so the call should be short. His mind focused on the bottom line and nothing else. And while she deeply respected him for that trait, right now, with her emotions raw and exposed, it felt cold and uncaring.
She just wanted it over with so she could order a bottle of wine, six slices of chocolate cake, and crawl into bed until Monday.
Holly thought about Mike’s question about taking the weekend off. If they’d been on a date… if they’d been something more to each other, would she still be okay with this all-consuming workload? Sometimes she wondered if Mr. Whitman knew that actual people worked for him—not robots.
And then there were people on the other end of these transactions. Despite her ruthless reputation, she could never completely forget that fact. So while he’d been her mentor, Holly could never work the way he did—cold, unfeeling.
Thinking back on all her projects, she felt a lingering emptiness. She liked her job, but transferring a company from one multi-billion-dollar conglomerate to another didn’t exactly speak to her soul. She remembered the look in Mike’s eyes when he talked about design. Had she ever felt that impassioned about a project?
Shaking aside those feelings, Holly reserved a small room in the business center to have her call. She couldn’t do it in her room, not when she could still see Mike sitting on the sofa, eating dinner with her for no other reason than to keep her company. A sharp ache in her heart hit her by surprise.
She knew her boss wanted to talk about the Brighton Security account. But what was she going to say? Usually, pressure drove her to push hard, close the account. But ever since meeting Mike, her head wasn’t completely in the deal anymore, because it was filled with him.
The icon on her computer lit up, showing Mr. Whitman’s incoming call. She took a deep breath, steadying her mind as much as she could and adjusted her blouse before answering.
Holly held back an annoyed groan when a perky redhead filled her screen. The last person she wanted to deal with right now was Rosalyn Kerr. The auburn-haired woman smiled, her dark red lipstick making her look more predatory than welcoming. There was just something about the woman that drove her crazy. She was ambitious, something Holly respected, but the way Rosalyn tried to get ahead went against Holly’s own morals.
“There you are, Holly,” Rosalyn said, pointedly looking at the clock on the desk. “I wasn’t sure if you’d actually show up. I know how busy you’ve been on your trip.”
Her sweet voice was laced with venom, and Holly wanted to tell the woman to go to hell. But instead, she pulled out her best smile, refusing to lower herself—almost.
“Rosalyn? I thought my meeting was with Bill?” Holly said, being sure to use her boss’s first name. It was petty, but she knew it always pricked the woman’s pride.
Rosalyn’s sugary smile faltered. “Mr. Whitman asked me to help them with today’s workload since his secretary is currently indisposed,”
“Andrea’s indisposed? What’s that supposed to mean?” Holly didn’t have many friends at Western Financial. Andrea was one of them. She was the best secretary the company had, and she worked as Mr. Whitman’s right-hand woman. If she wasn’t there when Mr. Whitman needed her, hell had frozen over.
“Her daughter had a baby, and she’s visiting,” Rosalyn said, rolling her eyes.
“Why couldn’t you just say that?” Holly said, already growing tired of this conversation. “And you still haven’t answered my question. Why am I talking to you and not Bill Whitman?”
“My, someone’s testy. The deal not going well?”
“I’ve got better things to do with my time. Put Mr. Whitman on.”
Rosalyn was not going to upset her. She didn’t let the woman’s constant needling get to her while she was in the office, and she wasn’t going to let her upset her from hundreds of miles away.
“You know,” Rosalyn said, “if he’d let me handle that case, I would
have this deal closed by now.”
“That’s the difference between you and me. I take my time and consider the people involved before razing the company.”
“We’re not in the business of sympathy, Holly. Sympathy just makes you weak, and there’s no place for weakness in the kind of work we do.”
Holly was so grateful for the barrier of the computer because if she were having this conversation at the office, she probably would’ve strangled Roslyn’s thin neck. The woman was a pain in her ass, and even more so now that she was gunning for a negotiator's position.
But deep down Holly knew the reason Roslyn was getting under her skin was that she was right. There wasn’t room for emotions. Her emotional entanglement was the reason the Brighton Security deal went sideways. Getting too close to people in this kind of job only meant trouble.
“Does this call have any purpose, or were you low a pint and thought you could suck it out of me?” Holly asked.
“I’m transferring you to Mr. Whitman now,” Rosalyn said, knowing her words hit their mark.
“Finally.”
“Be careful, Holly. It’s just a matter of time before you slip off that pedestal Mr. Whitman has you on, and there’s always someone else eager to take your place.” Rosalyn stood and walked out of camera shot before Holly could say anything.
There was no doubt in her mind that Rosalyn would be at the front of that line. Holly could only imagine how that horrid woman would have handled Mike.
“Thank you, Rosalyn,” Mr. Whitman said in his baritone voice as he sat down in the oversized chair, like a king taking his throne. “You’ve been a big help in Andrea’s absence.”
“Anything you need, Sir,” Rosalyn said. “I’m always willing to help.”
Holly was glad she was able to hold back her gag reflex. Rosalyn was a ridiculous joke to most of the tenured negotiators at Western Financial. The only reason she’d gotten a job as a researcher was that her father was best friends with one of the partners. And even with the partner’s recommendation, she’d only managed a junior position. That made Rosalyn Holly’s subordinate, and it pissed the woman off to no end.
“There’s my girl.” Mr. Whitman said. “I see Cleveland is treating you well.”
“Very well, sir. Although, I haven’t been able to see much of it. It’s been all business since I got here. All in all, it’s been a productive trip so far.”
Mr. Whitman leaned closer to his computer camera. “Does that mean what I think it does? Have you closed on the account?”
“Not yet, sir,” she said. “But I am working diligently to get it completed.”
A frown filled his face. “I was afraid of that when you didn’t check in on Friday. That’s the reason I wanted to speak with you in person.”
“Is there something wrong?” She didn’t like the sound his tone had turned to. Like a disappointed father, he crossed his arms and sighed, shaking his head slowly. “You’ve been with us almost two years, Holly. However, this is the first time it’s taken you so long to close an acquisition. The contract negotiations took months. Our clients have been very conciliatory, but they are getting restless. We promised them a closed deal.”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Whitman. It’s just that this is a sensitive situation.”
“Sensitive how?” he asked.
Holly tried to think of a way, to sum up, the issues at Brighton Security, but every time the words formed in her head, they sounded like weak excuses. She’d never let a seller’s personal drama stop a deal from going through. She wasn’t afraid to use the full weight of the Western Financial to apply pressure—until now. So instead of trying to explain the sudden empathy she had for Mike’s situation, she decided to lie.
“Just a few last-minute stalls to drive up the price,” she said. “Nothing I can’t handle.”
“I should hope not,” he said. “The company buying Brighton Security is one of our valued clients. They’ve been very patient. I don’t want them to pull their offer.”
“It’s almost done, sir.” At least, she thought it would be. She should have let Mike talk to her this morning about the news his uncle had, instead of trying to hold onto some fantasy romance she’d been having. Her life wasn’t the plot of some romantic movie. She had a job to do here, and that was it.
“Good. Have it wrapped up by Tuesday,” he said.
“What? I’ve never had a deadline before.”
Mr. Whitmore frowned, the disappointed father look was back. “You’ve never needed one until now. If you can’t handle it, I have some junior executives that would love to sharpen their teeth on this project.”
She knew exactly who he was talking about, and Holly didn’t want Rosalyn anywhere near Mike or his company. This was all her fault. None of this would be happening if she’d just kept things professional. Now she had no choice, and the thought of tearing apart Mike’s company nearly broke her.
“Yes, sir. I won’t let you down.” She wasn’t sure how, but she’d close the deal. That ache in her chest throbbed, knowing what she’d have to do.
What was wrong with her? She’d known this was a possibility and knew better than to get involved with a client. She’d seen it happen to other negotiators. Getting involved on a personal level clouded their judgment and business decisions. Deals were lost. People were fired. She’d promised herself that she wouldn’t end up like them, but she’d danced merrily over that line this time.
What was it about Mike that knocked down all her defenses? There was something about that strong but gentle demeanor of his that felt like a warm blanket on a rainy day. She just wanted to wrap herself up in him and get lost.
But that wasn’t who she was. She was a professional, and this was her life. She couldn’t let anything or anyone keep her from doing her job.
She’d give Mike one last chance to sign the contracts, but come Monday, the company would be hers, one way or another. Then she could go back to Chicago. Not that she had anything besides work to go back to.
That had been enough for her a few days ago, so why did it make her feel so lost now?
12
Respect first, friendship later
Don’t worry about making friends; worry about getting the job done. You might develop a friendship with the people you’re negotiating with, but you should always command respect.
For a man who’s about to have everything he wanted, you look pretty damn miserable.” Arnie sat next to Mike. They were on Mike’s back porch that overlooked the river. “I thought you’d be happy to finally be free of the business.”
Arnie took a sip of his beer and stared expectantly at Mike.
“I ran into a hiccup with the sale,” Mike said, “but it’s not what has my head spinning right now.”
Arnie smirked as he brought the glass bottle back up. “Let me guess. This has to do with that woman. Right?”
“That obvious, huh?” Mike took a gulp of his beer, remembering the moment he’d shared with Holly at the top of the building. The smell of her still clung to his clothes, and he wanted more. He wanted another night. Or two. Hell, as much time as she’d give him. But that damn phone call put an end to that.
“I’m your friend,” Arnie said. “I can tell that something’s going on. Although I have to admit, I’m a little shocked. A casual thing, I’d understand, but that didn’t look casual this morning. I’ve never seen you look at a woman like that before, and you brought her to the building. If she’d been some girl you were dating, I would have assumed you were going to propose. So what’s up with that?”
“I don’t know. I feel like I’m in the middle of a design. I don’t quite have everything worked out yet, but I can see the shape of things coming together.” Mike stared at his beer watching the condensation slowly drip down the smooth glass. He felt weird talking to Arnie about this, but he needed to get it off his chest. He needed advice. “We click. I feel like there could be more, but there’s this sale. It’s an obstacle, and I’m not sure we can work aro
und it.”
“Wow, so the sex is that good? I wouldn't have guessed by the look of her, but it’s always the ones you least expect.”
He knew Arnie was just making a joke, but it really pissed Mike off. They’d been friends since grade school. They’d gone to the same architecture program. But despite their deep friendship, Mike had an overwhelming surge of protectiveness when it came to Holly.
“If you’re going to be an asshole about it, you know where the door’s at.”
“Sorry, I didn’t realize it was like that.” Arnie put his leg up on the porch banister and considered his next words. “It’s just, she doesn’t really seem like your type.”
“And what exactly is my type?” Mike asked, crossing his arms over his chest.
“I don’t know, a little softer—sweet and demure.”
Mike couldn’t hold back a laugh. “Yeah. Holly would probably rip off your balls and shove them down your throat if you called her demure.”
Arnie choked on his beer. “Remind me never to piss that woman off.” There was a lull in the conversation as they both nursed their beers. Then Arnie posed the question Mike had been pondering all weekend. “I get you that like her, but are you sure you want to borrow that kind of trouble?”
“I don’t know. I’m not saying that I want to marry her, but there’s this connection. I can’t explain it. She clicks with me.” Mike drained the rest of his beer and sat back in his chair. He wasn’t sure how to explain the crazy attraction when he didn’t even understand it himself. “When we’re together, even talking on the phone, it feels comfortable and charged at the same time. She might have some sharp edges, but I kind of like that.” He shook his head, realizing how insane that sounded. “Besides, the last nice girl I dated turned out to be a liar and a cheater.”
“Barb was an evil bitch in a saint’s cloak,” Arnie said, shaking his head. “I didn’t see that one coming.”
