“You heard me out, so you’ll take the $5k,” I said, pulling out the envelope I had with the cash from the inside pocket of my jacket. I handed it to her, and she didn’t take it until I stepped forward and held it in front of her face. “I keep my word, Ms. Marcel. Let me keep it now.”
She narrowed her eyes at me, flicking her gaze to the envelope and back to my face twice before rolling her eyes and snatching the envelope.
“Fine.”
I smirked at her. “And my offer stands. In fact, let me sweeten it: nine million for the wedding budget, with a five hundred thousand planning fee for your company. Exclusive vendor rights. And full creative control within my parameters. It’ll be a wedding for you to brag about for years.”
Her eyes widened almost imperceptibly. For a normal wedding planning business, that was life-changing money. The kind of money that could turn a cute Chelsea office into a Manhattan empire.
“Mr. Burkhardt?—”
“Callan,” I corrected.
“Mr. Burkhardt,” she repeated. “No amount of money changes the fundamental problem. You’re asking me to plan a wedding for a relationship that doesn’t exist.”
“Yet,” I added. “Doesn’t exist yet. Think of it as extremely proactive planning.”
“Good night,” she said, turning toward the elevator. “And good luck with your search.”
I watched her walk away, noting with appreciation how perfectly her skirt emphasized the gentle sway of her hips.
The elevator doors closed behind her, and I smiled at the empty space where she’d stood.
Erika’s voice came through the intercom. “Should I compile a list of alternative wedding planners for tomorrow?”
“No,” I replied, finishing my scotch in one unnecessarily dramatic gulp. “I want her.”
“She seemed quite firm in her refusal, sir.”
“Everyone has a price, Erika.”
“With respect, sir, some people have principles.”
I set down my glass with more force than necessary. “Then I’ll just have to appeal to something besides her financial interests.”
“Such as?”
“I’m not sure yet.” I checked my watch. Nearly midnight. “But I’ll start by finding out everything there is to know about Anica Marcel and her business. Schedule a breakfast delivery to her office tomorrow. Something impressive. And have the car ready at eight.”
“May I remind you that you have the Tokyo investor call at nine?”
“Reschedule it.”
A pause. “They’ve already rescheduled twice.”
“Then they’re used to it,” I replied. “This is more important.”
“A wedding planner is more important than a hundred-million-dollar investment deal?”
I grinned at the exasperation in her voice. “The right wedding planner is. And Anica Marcel is the right one.”
“Because she said no,” Erika sighed, not bothering to make it a question.
“Exactly.” I walked back to the window, surveying the city. “She said no to me, Erika. When was the last time that happened?”
“Tuesday, sir. When you asked if I would water your office plants while you were in Aspen.”
“That doesn’t count. You’re practically family.”
