she might have insights as to what’s stalling your merger.’
Alejandro returned her gaze, narrow-eyed, then took the seat opposite her. Wordlessly, he waited, his powerful arms braced on his knees.
Elise cleared her throat. ‘Kenzo Ishikawa, Jason and Nathan’s grandfather, started the company.’
‘I’m aware of that.’
Elise barely managed to keep her lips from pursing. ‘He’s old school. Traditional.’
‘I know what old school means. Explain yourself better.’
‘Kenzo has taken a back seat, but he’s still on the board.’ At his darker glare, she hurried on. ‘The company’s been based in Kyoto since it was created. Were you planning on moving any of their factories from Kyoto?’
Alejandro nodded. ‘Seventy per cent of them, yes. It’ll save millions of dollars in revenue and deliver a faster service if we relocate the factories and warehouses to Europe and the US.’
‘That probably doesn’t matter to him. Since this is a merger and not a buyout, they’ll still be associated with it. Kenzo won’t want to see everything he’s worked for moved to another continent.’
‘So your opinion is that this deal is stalling because of nostalgia?’
‘Sentimentality can be a strong motivator.’
‘I don’t have time for sentimentality. Or protracted delays. Sitting back while they grapple with their touchy-feely emotions isn’t cost-effective for me.’
‘Perhaps it hadn’t been a card they felt they could play and win,’ she ventured. ‘But now they do?’
His jaw clenched. One fist wrapped around the other, then he surged to his feet.
‘You know, don’t you?’ she queried.
‘Why the Ishikawas have suddenly gone dewy-eyed? Sí, I do,’ he breathed.
Elise was certain fire would shoot from his nostrils, so devastating was the rage simmering from him.
But he simply returned to his desk. Slightly dazed, she heard him order Margo to summon his strategy team. Once the instructions were snapped out, he jammed his hands into his pockets and turned to the window. Although his gaze remained fixed on the view of Lake Michigan, Elise sensed his thoughts were very much turned inward.
To the source of the problem she’d just helped him uncover.
She sat, hands in her lap, as minutes crawled by. Finally, irritation snapping at her fraught nerves, she stood and shrugged on her jacket. Buttoning it, she approached him.
‘Pardon my interruption of your non-Zen rumination, but does the light bulb I just handed you mean that I’m hired?’
His shoulders stiffened. Slowly he turned and leaned against the window, his ankles crossed. Elise forced her gaze to remain on his face, not glance down to the thighs bunched against the taut fabric of his trousers.
‘Sí, I’m inclined to give you the commission.’
She tamped down the absurd fizz of excitement. ‘I hear a busload of buts in there.’
His eyes gleamed a dangerous, hypnotic green. ‘But...we need to establish a few ground rules.’
‘I can live with a few reasonable rules.’
His mouth twisted with a parody of a smile. ‘I assure you, it’ll be in your interest to do so.’
She attempted a smile of her own. ‘I’ll be the judge of that. So shoot.’
‘First, there will be instances when if I say jump, you will ask me how high.’
‘I don’t think—’
‘Like now, for instance, when I say if you want to be hired, you’ll let me finish speaking before you give in to the urge to interrupt.’
She swallowed hard against the urge to tell him to go to hell and reminded herself why she needed this commission. Practising a woefully inadequate restorative breathing exercise, she forced out a nod.
‘Second, are we agreed on the extreme confidentiality of this deal?’
‘Yes.’
‘So, no more phone calls to Grandma.’
Heat rushed up her neck. ‘No more phone calls to Grandma.’
‘Good. You’ll work from here in my office, full time, until this deal is done.’
‘I thought I’d be working alongside your own PR team.’
‘They’ll be brought in when extra support is needed. Don’t worry, you’ll be adequately compensated.’
Not seeing any way around that bar refusing, she pressed her lips together and nodded.
‘Was that a yes, Miss Jameson? If so, I prefer to hear the word, so there’s no misunderstanding.’
She gritted her teeth. ‘Yes. It was a yes.’
‘Perfect. You’ll start today. Right now. Margo will escort you to HR and you’ll sign the requisite confidentiality papers. If you need lunch, let her know and she’ll organise something for you.’
‘I’m quite capable of getting my own lunch.’
‘This is one of those instances where wasting time on a matter will be considered a breach of your work rules.’
Shock widened her eyes. ‘I beg your pardon?’
‘Lunch, unless you have specific dietary requirements, is lunch, Miss Jameson. Wasting time arguing about who gets you lunch is counterproductive.’
‘I... Are you serious?’ she asked, unsure whether to be grossly offended or mildly hysterical.
He jerked his head to a connecting door at the far side of the room. ‘There’s a Michelin-starred chef employed to prepare and serve whatever dish you desire to my personal dining room. All you need to do is ask.’
Elise was aware the scenario he’d just described would be most professionals’ idea of a dream perk. Certainly, her parents would relish the chance to laud such a privilege over their competitors and brag about it to clients.
‘I have simple tastes, Mr Aguilar. A sandwich from a bistro is perfectly adequate for me. Besides, taking a few minutes away from the office to walk to said bistro helps my cogitative process.’ She took a breath. ‘But I concede that you’re under time pressures. If the chef isn’t offended by making me a sandwich, then I’ll be happy to eat in your dining room.’
Another hard non-smile twitched his sculpted lips. ‘I do believe you’ve just jumped again, Miss Jameson. Although in a puzzlingly overcomplicated way.’ He nodded at his door. ‘Don’t keep Margo waiting.’
Elise
