Chapter 3 - The Dangerous Offer
Nevie stared at him, her cynicism flaring up like a struck match. "Hire me? What, as a professional hostage negotiator for your family dinners? Or do you need someone to tell your associates they have poor table manners?"
"No," Leandro replied, his expression unreadable. "My organization is expanding its legitimate assets—real estate, high-end hospitality, and international shipping logistics. We acquired a boutique hotel chain downtown last month. The previous management was riddled with corruption, and the administrative side is a disaster. I need an operations manager with your level of situational awareness, absolute discretion, and a spine of steel."
Nevie let out a short, humorless laugh. "You want to hire a waitress to run a hotel chain? Mr. Perry, my management experience consists of convincing drunk bankers to stop stealing the silver salt shakers."
"You have a degree in business administration from NYU," Leandro countered smoothly, pulling a crisp white envelope from his coat pocket and holding it out. "Graduated top ten percent of your class. Your father's medical debt forced you to drop out of your master's program and take a double shift at a restaurant that caters to criminals just to keep him alive at St. Jude's Hospital."
Nevie froze. The humor vanished from her face, replaced by a cold spike of defensive fury. She slapped the envelope away from his hand, sending it fluttering down into a puddle on the wet asphalt.
"Don't you ever investigate me," Nevie hissed, stepping right up to him, ignoring the danger radiating from his frame. "You think because you have money and guns you can just dig up my life and wave it in my face like a leash? I work for my living, Mr. Perry. I earn every single dollar honestly. I don't need blood money, and I don't need your charity!"
To her utter astonishment, Leandro did not react with anger. He didn't yell, and he didn't signal his driver. Instead, he slowly bent down, picked up the wet envelope from the puddle, wiped the dirty water off with his thumb, and slid it back into his pocket.
"It's not charity, Miss Brown. It's an investment," Leandro said quietly. "And it's not a threat—it's a fact. Your father's treatment at St. Jude's costs twelve thousand dollars a month. Laura pays you twenty-eight hundred. Do the math, Nevie. You are drowning, and you are doing it with a smile on your face because you are too proud to ask for a lifeline."
He stepped past her toward his car, pausing with his hand on the door handle.
May you like
"The offer stands. The salary is ten times what you make now, complete medical coverage for your father, and full legal protection against anyone who thinks they can disrespect you. Think about it. Because tomorrow night, my sister is hosting a charity gala at the Grand Meridian Hotel—one of our properties. She's going to try to ruin someone else to make herself feel tall. I'd love for you to be there to see how the other half operates when they don't have a table between us."
The car door clicked shut, and the matte-black sedan slid away into the dark, leaving Nevie standing alone in the alley with the cold wind biting through her jacket.
