“I’m Kristen Anderson,” she said, her voice coming out louder than it should. She sucked in a quick gulp of air and calmed herself. When she spoke again, it was quieter, smoother, and with authority. “Gennady would like you to consider moving your company to our country.”
He faced her again. “Prince Alex would know I wasn’t interested.”
Prince Alex was the husband of Kristen’s boss, Princess Eva. As executive assistant to Grennady’s future queen, Kristen knew Alex had immediately said no to considering Suminski Stuff as one of the tech companies being recruited to boost their flagging economy. But their options had run out. Dean’s was the only company left.
“So that’s why you weren’t put on the list?”
He smiled. But the movement wasn’t warm or friendly. More sarcastic. Almost frightening. “There’s a list?”
“There was. It’s dwindled.”
“To no one, I’m guessing, if they sent you to barge in on my day.”
She swallowed. Those black eyes were just too intense—like they saw every damned thing going on in her head. She’d read that he was shrewd, uncanny in his ability to judge his opponents. Orphaned at four, raised by a cold grandmother who hadn’t wanted him, he’d played video games to amuse himself. At fourteen, he’d gone to business school because he’d taught himself to code and didn’t need any more instructions in computers. He was brilliant. He was arrogant. He was also their last chance.
She opened her hands in supplication. “If you could give me two minutes of your time, I could persuade you to visit and make an assessment about whether or not you might consider, perhaps, moving your company to Grennady.”
“That’s a lotta maybes and mights and perhapses.”
“It’s possible you’re not looking to move.”
“I’m not.”
“You should be. Grennady is a beautiful country with a diverse labor pool.”
He scowled, and really just scared the hell out of her. Tall, broad-shouldered, and blunt, he made her blood tingle with fear. And she had the feeling he did it deliberately. Maybe this was why Prince Alex didn’t want him in their country? And maybe she had overstepped in contacting him. Grennady might be desperate to find an employer who could keep their younger, educated residents at home, but Suminski Stuff wasn’t the answer.
She stepped back. “You know what? I’m sorry I bothered you. Have a nice day.”
He shook his head. “You’re gonna give up that easily? I had higher hopes for you.”
Her face scrunched in confusion. “What?”
“You obviously flew from your frozen country to Paris where you don’t even speak the language.” His head tilted. “I heard you tell the clerk. You also didn’t mind running after me, shouting in a quiet lobby. That takes some guts. But when you finally had my attention, you backed off.” He almost smiled. “Too bad.”
He turned to leave, but she caught his arm. “What would you have done, if you were me?”
He laughed. “So now you want me to teach you how to dicker?”
His dark eyes held her gaze. She swallowed down her fear because, damn it, why should she be afraid of this guy just because he had money? And was big. And handsome. And had a terrifying way of looking at her.
“I don’t want you to teach me to dicker. I want you to listen to my pitch for about fifteen minutes.”
“Before you said two minutes.”
“That was if I didn’t show you some pictures.”
He looked at the blue sky, then back at her. “All right. Get in the car. I’m on my way to the airport. You’ve got the entire drive. Give it your best shot.”
Hope burst inside her. Maybe he wasn’t so bad, after all? “Really?”
He motioned to the black limo awaiting him. “Here’s lesson one. Don’t question good luck.”
The driver opened the car door and Kristen slid inside. Warm leather seats arranged in a semicircle greeted her.
Dean Suminski eased in beside her. A few seconds passed in silence as the driver got behind the wheel. Dean spent the time texting.
As the car pulled away from the hotel, Kristen said, “So I’m assuming you already know a little bit about Grennady?”