“Overall?” I ask. “Maybe thirty billion. In a decade, with expansion, a hundred.”
“No, to you, your upside.”
“A billion over a year. Likely more in the long term. A fucking lot.”
It looks like she is remembering something, then she says fast, “Okay, a hundred and twenty grand.”
Sam then extends a hand, and it shoots out fast. Before we really think it through or talk details, we shake hands.
“To being engaged,” I say.
“That’s fake engaged, Mister. And I’m not a fan of lies.”
“Right!” I confirm, still holding her hand and still shaking.
“And for how long?” she asks, brow up.
“Good question,” I say. “Let’s say, a month. Just in case the deal drags, and we need to?—”
“So, not a week, like you first noted?”
Before I can answer, she shakes her head.
“Okay!” I agree, in desperation.
“And then?”
“You’re a free woman, I guess.”
“You guess? It sounds like slavery when you say the word 'free.'”
“You will never be a slave to me,” I say slowly.
“Not even in your sex fantasy library, okay?”
“What?” I ask, confused.
“Okay, forget that bit,” Samantha says, looking weird.
“A deal?” I ask.
“Right! And good!” she huffs.
“Very good,” I say, now feeling weirded out.
We let our hands go, and we both appear on edge.
I know I am.
“Well,” I say. “Wife to be. Let’s, ummm, get aboard, and head off.”
As I walk back to my jet, Sam follows, muttering away like some mad woman. I then realize I need flight plans and the likes.
I also realize that the rest of the trip is going to be complex.
Firstly, we need the situation and agreement to be confidential. Highly confidential. And that will likely mean no jet crew on the long flights to Japan and back.
Just us.
