“Wait. Stay.” I keep my voice steady and professional. Because this is business, not whatever messy thing happened last night. “Hear me out. I have a proposal...”
She looks at me and arches an eyebrow. “A proposal?”
A few tourists are watching us now. Probably wondering if we’re about to have the kind of public fight that makes good vacation stories.
I keep my voice conversational. The same tone I use when I’m trying to close a deal with a founder who’s two seconds from walking.
“I actually hoped I’d find you here.” The lie comes easily. It always does when there’s a deal on the line. “You always were a fan of morning coffee. Have a seat. It will only take a moment.”
Her jaw tightens. For a second I think she’s going to refuse.
Then she sighs and crosses the café with me. I sit, and she sits across from me.
Good. She’s here. That’s something.
Though I’m still not entirely sure why I’m doing this. The rational part of my brain is screaming that this is a terrible idea. But the rest of me, the part that’s been trained to see opportunities and exploit them, knows this could solve multiple problems at once.
In daylight she looks a little different than last night. Her hair is pulled back in a loose bun. No makeup. The sunlight filtering through the café’s palm frond roof catches the curve of her cheekbones and that stubborn set of her mouth. Still beautiful, objectively speaking.
Not that it matters.
It doesn’t matter.
Fuck.
I pull my tablet closer and open the file I had queued up for Marisol. The foundation partnership agreement. Standard template for hiring legal counsel on community projects. I had three versions drafted depending on whether Marisol wanted to bring someone in-house, contract with a local attorney, or partner with an outside firm.
I had not planned to use any of them like this.
But the framework is there. Scope of work. Compensation structure. Timeline. All I need to do is swap out the placeholder text.
I make the edits in real time. Twenty seconds. Maybe thirty. Change “Legal Counsel TBD” to “Amara Khan, Esq.” Adjust the rate to something she can’t refuse. Lock in six weeks.
Then I pull up the PDF and send it to the café’s printer via the WiFi network. Thorne will give me a lecture on secure document handling if he finds out, but I’m the boss, so...
“Well?” Amara asks.
“Just a sec,” I tell her.
I wave at one of the staff members.
“Can you check the printer?” I ask.
A moment later the staff member returns with the document I just printed. I take it without comment and slide it across the table.
“What is this?” Amara’s voice is wary.
“The proposal.” I lean back, keeping my expression neutral.Business. Nothing more.“Six week legal access pilot program. Funded by the Saelinger Foundation. You would co-lead the clinic’s contract review workshops with Marisol de la Cruz. Protect islanders from predatory developers. Advise my foundation from the inside.”
She looks up. Those dark eyes are sharp and suspicious. “And what doyouget out of this?”
There it is.
The lawyer brain clicking into gear.
I could tell her the truth. That I need her expertise. That the foundation needs credibility and she has it in spades. That working with her gives me a chance to prove I’m not the monster she thinks I am.
But that sounds too close to caring what she thinks.
