Bought: A Billionaire Romance (9 page)

A night out with Kyan Ellis. Food, flirting, and alcohol. What could go wrong? Apart from EVERYTHING. Not that I think anything is going to happen between Kyan and me but I know I should be keeping my distance from him. He may not be as much of a jerk as I thought when we first met but he still isn’t someone I need to be getting involved with right now, however rich, hot, and charming he may be.

I could just say I’m tired and want to go back to the hotel, but, honestly, I don’t want to. I worked hard to prepare for the meeting we had today and now I want to celebrate, so I go along with what Kyan wants to do.

“The place I’m taking you is great,” says Kyan once we’re in the car, “really authentic food.”

I haven’t really tried much exotic food, even westernized let alone ‘authentic’, I’m not even sure I like Chinese food but today is a day for letting go of my fears and doing new things.

After half an hour of crawling along through the traffic that seems to perpetually clog the city’s roads, we arrive at the restaurant. It looks…interesting. It’s really little more than a shack with a few plastic tables and chairs. It doesn’t really look like somewhere that would even serve remotely edible food, let alone food as amazing as Kyan has been describing for the entire journey here.

“I know it doesn’t look much, but believe me, it’s great.”

We take a seat and a waitress soon appears to take our orders. Kyan seems to know just enough Chinese to order some things from the menu so I let him do the talking. He likes ordering on behalf of other people anyway, a man like him gets so used to being in complete control of any given situation that he can’t turn it off. Normally I would be annoyed but seeing as I can’t read the menu or speak a word of Chinese, I let him go ahead.

“I told her we want vegetarian food. She’s going to bring a few dishes out so we can share,” says Kyan.

“You’re eating vegetarian now?” I say, not concealing the surprise in my voice.

“I don’t have to eat meat for EVERY meal. We’re celebrating our combined success so it makes sense to get food we can both eat.”

I’m pleasantly surprised that he even remembered I was vegetarian but I don’t say this to him. For a moment we enjoy the lack of conversation and just listen to the sounds of the city buzzing around us until I break the silence.

“So…would you really have turned those guys in to the police if they hadn’t agreed to our deal?” I ask.

“I knew I wouldn’t have to.”

“How?”

“I think I’ve got a pretty good sense of what people are willing to accept. It’s a skill you get over time,” replies Kyan, “My first business was selling farm machinery parts: tractors, harvesters, that kind of thing. There was a lot of negotiating prices with suppliers and with buyers and I eventually got used to knowing what kind of deals people like.”

“So how do you do it?”             

“You have to talk to them, get to know them just a little bit and you can work it out. Some people only care about the money and they’re the hardest ones to negotiate a good deal with, especially if they’re smart too. Most people aren’t like that. The most common type of person I deal with are proud people, the money isn’t as important for them as making themselves believe they’ve got a good deal.”

There’s something mesmerizing about the way Kyan talks about business. The gravity and power of his words resonate with me and I find myself lost in the passionate fire that burns in his eyes.

“And how do you negotiate with that kind of person?” I ask.

“They’re probably the easiest to deal with. A bit of charm, massage their ego, pretend to be upset that they’re ripping you off and they’ll be like putty in your hands,” says Kyan, “The other type of people who are easy to deal with are the ones who are motivated by fear like our Chinese friends back there. All you have to do is find the thing that terrifies them and play on it until they give you everything you want. That’s how I knew they would cave immediately.”

“So what kind of person do you think I am? How would you negotiate with me?” I ask. I kind of regret asking the question as soon as the words leave my mouth. Not because I’m afraid of the answer itself, but because I’m afraid that it will show me how well Kyan knows me. The idea that Kyan has looked inside me and read me like he reads other people so well is terrifying for some reason.

“When I first met you I thought you were the type of person who is motivated by fear. That’s why I thought you would immediately accept the offer of coming to work for me as part of that deal. I thought you would fear the impact the refusal might have on your career.”

“But you don’t think that fear is what motivates me now?”

“No. I soon realized you’re the hardest type of person to negotiate with. You’re a principled person. The kind of person who simply will not accept a deal that goes against their principles, a person that will resist any attempt to bribe or threaten them. That’s why you didn’t accept the offer immediately. You needed time to rationalize the offer to fit in with your worldview. ”

I wonder if he’s just using hindsight having got to know me better or if he really did manage to read me that soon after first meeting me.

“Do you think it’s that simple?”

Kyan shrugs. “All I know is, I have made a lot of money and built a successful business mainly with my negotiating skills. I must be doing something right.”

The waitress reappears with several plates full of food I don’t recognize. The smell of spices and fried food fills the air. My mouth is watering as she sets the dishes in front of us.

I pick up something that looks like a doughy ball and take a bite. The soft bread-like outside of the ball gives way to a sticky vegetable filling that is equal parts sweet and savory. I can’t get enough and I devour one after another before I start spooning noodles into my bowl. I look around for a spoon or a knife and fork to eat with but there isn’t one, only a pair of chopsticks.

Oh no. I can’t use chopsticks to save my life.

I pick up the sticks and try to mimic Kyan who is skillfully shoveling noodles into his mouth with them. I manage to pick up a few strands of noodle which immediately splash back into my bowl.

“Having a little trouble there?” asks Kyan between mouthfuls.

“I…I’ve never really used chopsticks before. I’ll get the hang of it.”

“Let me know if you want any help.”

I try again and again to pick up the noodles but they always drop back into the bowl before I get them anywhere near my mouth. I throw the chopsticks down out of frustration.

“Here, let me help,” says Kyan.

He picks up the discarded chopsticks and cups my right hand gently with his left. My little hand looks ridiculous against his huge palm. He carefully places the chopsticks in my hand, manipulating my fingers with a dexterity and gentleness that I didn’t think his thick paws would be capable of. Our eyes meet and I melt a little bit when he flashes me his trademark grin

Ignore it, Clara. Remember what Mira said. If anything happens between you, you’ll end up looking like a fool. It’s hard enough for a girl in finance without the whole industry thinking that you’ll sleep with the boss to get ahead.

“There, now just move those two fingers and keep the thumb still. You’ll get used to it.”

I practice moving my fingers to open and close the chopsticks before picking up some noodles and finally managing to get a few of them to my mouth. 

“Thanks. That’s much better.”

“So what did you think of the food?”

I already know the answer to that question before I ask it. She’s cleaned every plate put in front of her so I know she loved it.

“That was incredible!” she says, her eyes lighting up with glee, “I’m stuffed.”

“Me too. Time to head back to the hotel.”

I open my wallet and throw a few notes down on the table. Should be easily enough to cover the meal we just had, and then some.

We head to the waiting car together in comfortable silence with full stomachs. When we get there I tell the driver to take us back to the hotel and we’re on our way.

“What do you think of Beijing?” I ask Clara when as we crawl through another traffic jam.

“Lots of traffic, lots of noise. I’m used to city life but this place is something else. I’ve never really traveled much so everything is so new. ”

“Yeah, it’s quite the place. If you stick with Ellis Energy we’ll be traveling all over the world, not just China.”

“But aren’t I supposed to be working on the coal plant project with China? Once that is finished I’m supposed to go back to Greene Earth,” says Clara.

“You’re free to do whatever you want, but after your performance in that meeting today I want you by my side in all my negotiations, not just this project.”

Clara lets out a sigh. I know she doesn’t agree with all the things my company does, she’s got her principles and she’ll stand by them to the end. I also know that she isn’t so different from me and that she felt the same rush earlier that I always get from winning a negotiation. That’s why I think she won’t be able to resist continuing to work with me.

“I don’t know,” says Clara, “There’s a lot I want to do that I don’t know if I can achieve at Ellis Energy.”

“Well, any of my staff make a proposal for a project they want to undertake and I always look at them. If they’re good—and profitable, this isn’t a charity—they go ahead.”

Clara remains silent, staring thoughtfully out of the window at the city beyond. It’s starting to get dark and lights are beginning to flicker on in the windows of the towering buildings all around us.

“There’s no decision to be made right now,” I continue, “Just…think about it.”

With her aptitude for the numbers and my negotiating skills, we could make a great team. I know an opportunity when I see one, and this could be a great one for both of us.

Still, I can’t ignore that simmering tension between us. Mira was probably right, I really need to keep things professional, otherwise I could fuck everything up just like I always do. I’ve never been very good at resisting my desires–hell, the secret to my success is that when I want something I’ll do everything I can to get it–but this time I won’t give in, for Clara’s sake.

****

The driver holds the door open for me when we get out at the hotel and I press a few notes into his hand to thank him for waiting around for us all day.

“I’m going to go change, I’ll see you back in the bar in an hour or so,” I say as we ascend the wide steps to the hotel’s grand entranceway.

“See you then,” says Clara.

Our rooms are on different floors so Clara gets out of the elevator before me. I can’t wait to get to my room and wash off the dirt and pollution of the city.

I swipe my key card and open the door to reveal my room. It’s beautiful, with soft lighting and modern, minimalist design in contrast to the hotel’s luxurious but somewhat old-fashioned lobby. Growing up, we lived in poverty and I always thought I would get used to luxury at some point but I haven’t yet. Walking into an awesome room like this still blows my mind.

I walk through the bedroom and into the bathroom. It’s all marble surfaces and shining chrome. There’s a hot tub in the corner that, sadly, I won’t have time to use. Not that it matters too much, I have one of those at home anyway.

I strip off and get in the shower, letting the water rain down on me from the wide, silver showerhead. It feels great. Afterward, I change from my suit and tie into a more casual shirt and pants then head down to the bar. It feels stupid, but I can’t wait to see Clara.

****

The bar is more old-fashioned than my room, more in keeping with the rest of the hotel. High-backed brown leather chairs nestle in the corners of the dimly-lit room while a lone jazz pianist provides the soundtrack for the evening. It’s the kind of place that would once have been a haze of cigarette smoke but, with the smoking ban, now just smells faintly of alcohol and leather.

I take a seat at the bar and order a whiskey on the rocks. It will probably be a few minutes before Clara gets here but I don’t mind being patient. I flick through the dozens of emails on my phone deleting them as I go and, when I look up, it’s just in time to see Clara come in. She was worth the wait.

She walks in with a slight unsteadiness that suggests she isn’t used to wearing heels that high. The black cocktail dress she’s wearing hugs her figure perfectly and her lustrous hair, released from the bun she usually wears it in, cascades to her shoulders.

How the hell am I supposed to act professional now!?

“Hi!” she says, hopping up onto the bar stool next to mine.

The scent of her perfume—warm and fruity with a hint of cinnamon—wafts over me. She turns to look at me with a coy smile that suggests a lack of confidence in her appearance, but I suspect it’s just for show. There’s no way she doesn’t know how incredible she looks.

“You look…nice,” I say coolly, “You’re making me feel a bit underdressed.”

“Thanks. I don’t stay in five-star hotels very often so I thought I should make an effort.”

“What would you like to drink?”