The Truth About De Campo(9)
The smile faded from his lips. “Just how much of an underdog is De Campo?”
“Who said you were an underdog?”
“My position on your priority list,” he said roughly. “If I were to rank it, I’d say Silver Kangaroo is your first choice, followed by H Brands and Michael Collins.”
The flush that darkened her cheeks told him he was dead-on. He sliced his hand upward to push his hair out of his face, remembered he’d had it all chopped off and dropped it to his side. “Why are we even here if you aren’t going to give us a chance?”
“You do have a chance.” Her eyes flashed a taunting emerald. “Tell me why I should choose you, Mr. De Campo. I’m all ears. Wow me.”
He could think of a multitude of ways to wow this one, most of which could never be done in a boardroom...starting with shutting up that smart mouth of hers.
He bit his tongue and used reason instead. “You’re big on Silver Kangaroo. I get that they’re a hot brand, winning awards, but so are we. In fact, De Campo is doing things no one else is, as you know, with the Malbecs and Syrahs in Napa. Warren is big on made in the U.S.A. There’s your angle.”
She lifted a delicate shoulder. “I’m more interested in choosing the right brand. Made in the U.S.A. is nice to have.”
“Good,” he agreed. “Then I’m sure you know you’ll get more personal attention from us than the big brands. How much love and devotion will Michael Collins or H Brands give you?”
“A lot, they’ve promised.”
He lifted a brow. “You can see through a lie, can’t you, Ms. Davis? Ultimately, the reason you should choose us comes down to a partnership. We’re in the restaurant business. Our restaurants are hugely profitable. We can help you. Guide you.”
Her gaze glittered. “I run a national chain of restaurants. I’m sure you couldn’t have missed that fact.”
“Fast-food restaurants,” he qualified. “It’s a very different industry.”
The warning in her eyes intensified. “Not so different, Mr. De Campo. But you make a good point. You’re a competitor. Why should we fatten your pocketbook, open sesame on our trade secrets so you can kill us later?”
He shook his head. “De Campo isn’t interested in luxury dining. Our restaurants service the trendy, hip crowd. It would be synergy, not competition.”
“What’s to say you won’t expand? You’ve opened five restaurants this year.”
“It’s not in our plans. We know where our niche is. Allow us to partner with you, share what we’ve learned.”
Her gaze hardened to a chilly, wintry green. “I don’t want your advice, Mr. De Campo. I want your wine.”
Damn, but she was a pain in the butt. “Riccardo and I had dinner in your Park Avenue restaurant this week. We wrote down a list of ten crucial mistakes you’re making that would put you back in the black. You may want to hear them given our restaurants have a profit margin unheard of in the industry.”
Her gaze flickered. Bingo. She crossed her arms over her chest. “Go on.”
“Put us through to the next round and I will.”
Her brows tilted. “What if you don’t make it? You have an opportunity now to make your case.”
“I’ll take my chances.”
“Ah. A gambler too.”
“Always. Tell me something, Quinn. You don’t like being underestimated, do you?”
“Not particularly, no.”
“Thought so. Funny then that Daniel Williams thinks he has you tied up tighter than tight.”
“Excuse me?”
“I think his exact words were ‘I’ve got that filly tied up tighter than tight, De Campo.’”
“Filly?” The full force of that green gaze sank into him. “He said that?”
“Just now, in fact. Ask him. And while you’re at it, you might want to find out where he’s staying. I could have sworn I saw him walk out of the hotel across from yours tonight. The one with the three-word name that is not the Luxe brand.”
Quinn’s mouth dropped open. She stood there gaping at him, then apparently realized what she was doing and slammed it shut. Matteo flashed her a grim smile. “Appearances are deceiving, aren’t they? You think I’m a playboy? You think I manipulate with my charm? Sure I do. I appreciate women. I appreciated you the moment I saw you and I know the feeling was mutual.” He lifted his shoulders in a careless shrug. “But the thing is, you aren’t my type, Quinn. I prefer the warm, affable ones over the ice queens. So perhaps you can tuck away your claws and play fair. Judge De Campo on our track record, not your misguided presumptions of who you think I am. Or this chemistry test is going to be a joke.”