“We have a meeting with Mr. Davis.” I plaster on my best smile.
The security guy checks his computer, obviously not expecting us on the list. His brows pull closer when he finds us, like he can’t believe this is real. Well, getting into a meeting with this man is pretty difficult. The fact that he agreed to reschedule is practically a miracle, but I deserved at least one thing to work in my favor.
He pats us down for weapons and makes us pass through a metal detector before saying, “You can head upstairs.” The elevator pad beeps as he presses his key card and lets us inside. He’s the one to press the button of a floor and, of course, it’s the top one. Someone like Mr. Davis wouldn’t settle for anything less.
“Can I know the plan now?” Luka asks, slipping his hands into his pockets.
“Nope. Just follow my lead.”
I fix my tie as the elevator pings on the 32ndfloor and the door opens. We’re met with another reception desk, but this floor is even more opulent than the lobby. Vases with fresh flowers adorn every corner, while walls of windows line both sides of the room. Even the receptionist’s uniform looks full designer, with brown Louboutins and immaculately tailored skirt and jacket.
“Mr. Petrovic here for Mr. Davis,” Dom announces us, and I barely suppress a laugh. I’m a successful entrepreneur, but I’ll never be someone who was born into money.
The receptionist flashes her pearly-white smile. “Mr. Davis will see you now.”
Her tightly tied bun doesn’t move an inch as she struts toward the door behind her desk. The three knocks she places on the shiny mahogany door are well-practiced and perfectly spaced. After a few seconds inside, she returns, gesturing for us to come in. I lead the way, making it clear who’s the boss. With his chin held high, Mr. Davis waits for us to enter. The chair underneath him is more like a throne, adding a frame to his elderly face. His hair defies the laws of aging, with his glasses resting atop the thick mop of brown. Yet, the deep wrinkles cut into his face and hands expose the fact that the man has been here longer than this building. He doesn’t get up from his chair. Rather, he gestures with his palm to a set of seats. Luka and I take a seat in front of his desk, while Dom finds his place in the back. The brown leather chairs complement the heavy velvet drapes and the exquisite craftsmanship of his desk. Unlike the foyer and the reception, which are decorated more modernly, this corner office screams old money.
The man in front of us clears his throat. “Mr. Petrovic. You must be a powerful man to have the mayor call in favors to get you a meeting. And then to reschedule.” It’s a not-so-subtle dig at me.
“Well, it was very important for us to meet.”
“Was it?” He lowers his chin. “Forgive me, but I have a hard time believing that.”
“That is understandable. But you’re a businessman, Mr.Davis. One of the best. I think this should help you believe.” My fingers wrap around the leather-bound binder inside my briefcase.
The corners of his lips tip up, as expected. I place the binder on his desk, and he looks almost excited to open it. He lowers his glasses onto his nose, his eyes trailing the first page quickly. “What’s this?”
“An offer.” I lean back in my chair, crossing my ankle over my knee.
“Why would I take it?” He shoots us a disbelieving look.
“Because you’re smart. If you turn a few pages, you’ll realize that this offer is your best chance for getting a return on your investment.”
Releasing a sharp breath out of his nose, he turns the page.
“As you can see.” I clear my throat. “Your supplier’s liquor license has expired. Something about their distilleries not being up to code. You could wait for them to fix those irregularities, which, hint hint, they won’t, and lose money and status. Or you could sell the contract. To me.” His gaze returns to the pages in front of him. Bill Davis is the Russians’ biggest customer. They are the sole supplier of the vodka for his hotels and bars, which span all over the country.
He glances up at me, intertwining his fingers on the desk. “I’m trying to figure out if you’re brave or stupid.”
I flash him a smile. “A little of both, but I’m convinced you’re smart enough to see this is your best option.”
He purses his lips, and I know I’ve got him. “And you have a way of getting the merchandise that I need?”
“If you look a little further, you’ll see that I do. The vodka I serve in my casinos is among the best-rated in the world. Matter of fact, we brought you a sample.”
Dom gets up and places a bottle of vodka on Bill’s desk. The man barely looks up, his gaze still on the binder. “And what about the distilleries?” he asks.
“What about them? Maybe I’ll buy them and start makingsome more quality liqueur. In any case, those distilleries will be none of your business from now on.”
Luka brightens beside me. “We could make our ownrakia.”
His excitement is contagious, hooking the corner of my lips. “Maybe. The possibilities are endless.” My tongue runs over my top teeth.
“You do know who you’ll be fucking over with this?” Bill asks, his cold eyes peeking out from under his glasses.
“This is business, Mr. Davis. Don’t tell me a man like you worries about the fit a single supplier will throw.”
He purses his lips, his ego not liking my stream of thoughts. “You know as well as I do, they can be pretty persuasive.”
