Prince Player(83)

I smile to myself, imagining how I’ll punish her as I walk into the restaurant. This last meeting is with Richard Taylor, one of the most notorious businessmen in the city. He’s a real estate guy, and I want to buy out one of his buildings to use as my new corporate headquarters once all this merger stuff goes through. But he’s hard to work with and has an awful reputation for being involved with some shady ventures.

I spot Richard sitting in a booth table toward the back. I walk directly toward him. It’s interesting how being a good businessperson very often means you’re a bad regular person. The sort of thing business demands from you usually means you’re a hard person to be around in normal circumstances.

Richard Taylor is no exception to this rule. As I approach, he frowns and checks his watch, almost as if I’m late. I’m not, of course, but he’ll make me feel like I am just because he showed up early.

“Ethan,” he says, standing, and we shake hands.

“Richard. Good to see you.”

“You too. Sit down, have a drink.”

“Nothing for me tonight,” I say, waving off the waitress as she approaches. “I have to get home.”

He laughs at me. “You go home? I feel like I haven’t been home in days.”

“Which is exactly why I’m making it a point to sleep in my own bed tonight,” I say, smiling at him.

He nods and for a second, I wonder if my little theory about businessmen extends to myself.

Am I just as bad as Richard is? I like to think I’m not. My employees respect me, maybe even like me. I’m generous with benefits and raises and I never yell. I pride myself on being a good boss, because I absolutely hate bad bosses.

But I’m still at the top of my game, and my personal life definitely suffers for it. I can see myself in men like Richard, or at least part of myself. Still, I’m not like him, and won’t let myself become like him.

I have my pet at home to help keep me sane.

“Well then, down to business so you can get home,” he says, and I know it’s a backhanded insult.

I choose to ignore it. Instead, I take out a contract we’ve been discussing and we dive back in, talking about the intricacies of the deal.

Richard is a hard negotiator, but I know he needs to sell. He took the recession hard a few years ago, and some of his assets are currently losing him a lot of money. This building happens to be one of those assets. I have the capital and the ability to turn it back into a worthwhile place, but Richard has to meet me in the middle first.

He’s playing hardball, though. He doesn’t want to budge an inch on any of his demands, especially not on price, and every concession I get comes at the cost of two more concessions from my side. It’s infuriating and exhausting to keep arguing about petty details, but that’s what Richard seems to want to do.

We go at it for an hour before I’m finally finished for the night. Richard is on his second martini when I lean back, shaking my head.

“Let’s stop here for the night,” I say to him.

“Are you sure?” he asks, grinning. “I feel like we’re just making progress.”

“We’ll resume tomorrow,” I say, though I want to punch him in the face.

“Sure, fine. Whatever you want,” he says. “Make a meeting with my secretary.”

I know that means I probably won’t see him for another week. Richard tosses some bills on the table, clearly overpaying for his drinks but doing it to show off. I don’t really understand that, since we both know I’m worth more than he is, but it doesn’t matter. We stand and walk toward the exit together.

“You and I, Ethan, we’re warriors,” he says to me as we’re walking out.

“How’s that?” I ask him.

“This business is all a fight. And you have to be a warrior to win it. I think you know that.”

“Maybe,” I say. “But it’s not all cutthroat.”

“It is,” he says seriously. “It’s a war, a constant battle. You have to kill your enemies, Ethan.”

“I don’t like doing business that way.”

“Then you’ll lose.” He grins at me, like he’s making a joke, but I know he isn’t.

We stop at the front door. “Okay, Richard,” I say. “Have a good night. My secretary will be in touch.”

“Good. Enjoy being home,” he says. “I’m back to the office.”

We shake hands and I walk away with a sour taste in my mouth.

On the car ride back home, I just keep thinking about how that bastard is going to keep pushing me. He’s going to keep making backhanded insults and comments until this deal is finished, just because he can. He knows he has something that I want, and he’s going to push me as far as he can.