“I just decided to move on to something else,” I lied. “I’d rather bet on myself.”
“Hmmm.” He looked as if he didn’t believe me at all. “Well, luckily for you, I’m starting a much smaller campaign for something that’s not political, and I don’t have a sordid history.”
Just a cruel and ruthless one.I nearly yelped, biting my lip on that line.
He walked over to a stunning glass bookshelf and pulled out a leather folder. Then he handed it to me.
Engraved on its front was the outline of a building I knew all too well, and under it—in cursive—was its name: The Holden.
“I want to buy this building, and I need resident approval since I can’t get it directly from the mayor.”
That’s never happening…
“You’ll need to do whatever you did before on a much grander scale and make me come off kindhearted and like I actually care about people’s feelings so I can finally have it to myself.”
I blinked. “Don’t you have a million-dollar public relations team for this?”
“They’ve tried and failed for the past year,” he said. “I’m tired of waiting on them to fix my image.”
“Have you tried being a nicer person?” I asked. “Maybe going in that direction?”
“I’ll give you all the numbers to local leaders and influential people—” He waved off my questions as if they were beneath him. “You’ll wine and dine them for a few months and say whatever you have to say so they vote yes.”
“So, in exchange for me stealing one shower and making a few crazy offers to a very rich client, you want me to buy people’s votes?”
“First of all,” he said, his voice low, “you didn’t steal just one shower. We went through security footage at all my listings for the past year, and you were sneaking into my best condos at least three times a week.”
“I’m still very sorry…”
“Bullshit.” He rolled his eyes. “And second of all, I’m not interested in buying anyone’s vote. I just want you to influence it.”
“You’ll draw out a plan for me, and then I’ll make sure you have the proper team and resources to execute it. If all goes well over the next six months, I’ll pretend like we never crossed paths. Any questions?”
“Yes, actually.” I stammered. “Quite a few.”
“I’ll settle for three.”
“How much are you going to pay me for helping you?” I asked. “I don’t make enough to do things for free.”
“Come again?”
“The mayor paid me for all my work—well, most of it,” I said. “I was working like ninety hours a week, and that was just for the image stuff. With what you’re asking for, it might be more.”
“Your payment is not spending time in prison for your extended track record of theft.”
“I’ll have to take my chances with a trial by jury then,” I said. “Or maybe we can work out a payment plan for like—the next twenty years?”
He blinked.
“Actually, since mortgages are like thirty years, can we use that time frame instead?”
“No. Have a seat, Miss Sterling.”
I didn’t move.
“Have. A. Seat.”
I finally lowered myself to the chaise and stared at the windows behind him.
