Chapter 17: The Negotiation

They took a car to the Eiffel Tower.

Navigated through crowds of tourists and lovers. Ascended in a private elevator to Jules Verne.

The restaurant was a masterpiece of elegance. Tables set with crystal and silver. Windows overlooking all of Paris.

The kind of place where marriage proposals and business empires were born.

The meeting with the French consortium was supposed to be professional.

It became anything but.

Because Martina was magnificent.

Jordan had spent five years watching her work. But always from the sidelines. Handling logistics. Managing schedules. Preparing documents.

Tonight, he watched her negotiate.

She spoke flawless French with the consortium’s CEO. Discussing sustainable energy initiatives and investment structures with the kind of nuanced understanding that came from years of sitting in on meetings and being underestimated.

She was brilliant.

She’d always been brilliant.

And Jordan had been using her brilliance to make his coffee and book his flights.

The realization made him feel physically ill.

The meeting ended at 11:15 PM.

Handshakes and promises to finalize contracts by the end of the month. A massive win for Blackwell Enterprises.

A massive win that Martina had orchestrated while Jordan sat there realizing he’d been wasting the most talented business mind he’d ever encountered.

“That was incredible,” he said as they walked out onto the observation deck.

Paris sprawled beneath them. Glittering like someone had spilled diamonds across black velvet.

“You were incredible.”

“I’ve been sitting in your meetings for five years, Jordan,” she said quietly, leaning against the railing.

“Did you think I wasn’t paying attention?”

“I think I’ve been criminally stupid.”

She laughed.

The sound sad and tired.

“Yes. You have been.”

The wind picked up. Cold and sharp.

Jordan shrugged out of his jacket without thinking, draping it over her shoulders.

She looked up at him, surprised.

For a moment, they were just two people on a balcony in Paris. Pretending the rest of the world didn’t exist.

“Marcus offered you a job,” Jordan said.

Because he’d never been good at dancing around difficult truths.

“Director of operations. Six-figure salary. Your own team. Everything you deserve.”

“Yes,” she said simply.

“He did.”

“Are you going to take it?”

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