“You think they expect you to stand still, and look pretty, huh?”
She nodded.“They’re members of a dynasty that’s been in business for almost a century; they’re insulated and powerful, and definitely not in possession of attitudes toward business that were new after 1951.”
Jason snorted.“I love you,” he said as he pulled her close.
“I love you, too,” she told him this time, before brushing her lips against his.
But instead of being sated with a light kiss this time, she fell into the deeper kiss, the way his hands settled in her hair, the way he tasted.
Because deep in her gut, something felt funny.Whether it was anxiety or something else, she was absolutely convinced that things were going to go wrong.
For once in her life, she hoped it was her instincts that were wrong and not this meeting.And as they left his apartment, she wondered if they’d ever come back.
*
The rideshare waswaiting downstairs when they arrived; the driver was skilled, and the car smelled like coffee.
The man even knew the perfect way to get to their intended destination, avoiding the traffic and other pitfalls of driving uptown in Manhattan during rush hour.
Of course, the building they were heading to was just south of Central Park, an otherwise unassuming office building that contained more wealth than he knew what to do with.The doorman ushered them into the elevator, where an elevator operator was waiting to bring them upstairs.
This was posh.
But, he observed, all of it had been nothing compared to the marble on the walls and the mosaics on the floor.The gold leaf on the door that led to the center of the heavily carpeted space was…austere.Heck, he was scared to breathe in the space lest he break something.
But as he looked closer into the space, it was…a waiting room.Huge wooden doors separated the family photos and books and couches, as well as the fireplace, from the other room on the other side.
All of it seemed like it had been dropped in this space from another era; heck, a fainting couch wouldn’t be out of place as far as he was concerned.Because yeah, it was history.
Someone else’s history—not his own.
These people, the New York relatives, had taken almost a century, and had turned knishes-dough and filling, into an empire.
“You okay?”
His brother stood in a suit; he hadn’t seen his brother in a suit since Yom Kippur.The man looked more comfortable in chef’s clothing, or sweatpants.
“No,” he said.Because there was something about this situation that screamed for honesty he didn’t feel comfortable delivering.
“You prepared?”
He nodded, lifted the large red folder, filled fit to bursting, tied tightly, that he held.“I have copies of a business plan; I have lists of my references and potential jobs.”
“And you have your backup,” he said.
His brother probably meant himself, but Jason’s first thought was, as per usual, Naomi.Who sat on the couch, working on something on her computer.Notes?Something for him?Something else?
Didn’t matter because he took the moment to really admire her; the fact of the matter was that she was gorgeous.The more he looked at her, the more he wanted to look at her.With the suit, she’d put her hair up, and there wasn’t one strand that would defy her.
Unlike him.Yes, he wore a suit that fit him well, dress shoes; but it felt like a costume.
Him and his brother, two peas in a culinary pod.
Waiting to be shucked.
And then there was a sound that signified the doors were being opened…to a space that could have been twice the size of the waiting room.
The conference room itself looked like a combination between a courtroom and a normal conference room; the large black…thing that looked like a judge’s bench, sat in front of a long table with a bunch of chairs.The chairs were all facing the judge’s bench.
