Page 18 of Letters From Victor

“Yes.” He motioned to the empty twin chairs in front of his desk.

I tentatively entered the room and sat on the edge of one of the chairs, the cushion stiff beneath me. I smoothed my skirt over my knees and crossed my ankles.

“Well,” I began, choosing my words carefully, “I think the project is a good idea. There is a lot of expansion into the suburbs right now, and it makes sense to jump on that bandwagon.”

Victor nodded, his dark eyes fixed on mine. “But?”

I hesitated, biting my lower lip. “It’s not my place.”

A smile played at the corners of his mouth. “I insist. I want to know what you think.”

I let out a controlled breath. “To be perfectly honest, I don’t like the guy.”

Victor leaned forward and rested his elbows on the desk. “Go on,” he encouraged, his dark eyes glinting with interest.

I shifted in my seat, the leather creaking softly beneath me. “He just seems…slimy. The way he wouldn’t stand on the merits of his own proposal. At the first sign of challenge, he changed his tune to tell you exactly what he thought you wanted to hear.” I didn’t say it aloud, but I mentally added the unsavory way he looked at me. I shook my head, a shudder of revulsion running through me at the memory. “I don’t trust him.”

Victor’s smile widened, transforming his face from handsome to devastatingly so. “You have good instincts, Barbara. I don’t trust him either.”

My heart fluttered at his praise as a warm flush crept up my neck. “Thank you, sir.”

“Victor,” he corrected.

“Victor.” I nodded. “But if you don’t trust him, why are you considering doing business with him?”

He leaned further across the table. “I’m not.”

I blinked, confusion crossing my features. “But…the meeting, the negotiations…”

Victor laughed, the sound sonorous and rich. “It’s all part of the game, Barbara. Let him think he has a chance. Let him sweat and squirm. Most importantly, let him do all the legwork.”

I tilted my head, trying to wrap my mind around his strategy. “So you’re letting him think there’s a deal on the table even though you have no intention of following through?”

Victor leaned back in his chair. “Precisely. Let him run around—gather data, crunch numbers, sweeten the pot. He’ll bring me a much better proposal, thinking it’s his last shot to win me over.”

I couldn’t help but smile, impressed by Victor’s shrewdness. “And then you’ll turn him down flat.”

“Precisely.” Victor’s eyes glinted with satisfaction. “And in the meantime, I’ll have all the information I need to move forward with the project on my own terms. If I decide it’s worth pursuing at all.”

“And do you think it is?”

He studied me carefully. “I’m far more interested in whatyouthink.”

“I can’t imagine why.”

“You don’t see yourself clearly at all, do you? You have a keen mind and a sharp eye. And you’re no bootlicker. You don’t tell me what you think I want to hear.”

My cheeks warmed at his praise, my heart fluttering in my chest.

His dark eyes bored into mine, as if he could see straight into my soul. “So tell me, do you think this suburban development is worth pursuing?”

I took a deep breath while I assembled my thoughts. “I think it’s certainly worth considering.”

“Less diplomatic this time, please.”

I met Victor’s penetrating gaze and decided to be fully candid. “Yes, I think it’s a smart move. The demand is clearly there. People are eager to escape the city, put down roots, start families. And they’ll pay handsomely for the privilege.” I leaned forward slightly, warming to the subject. “But if you want them to pay, it can’t just be rows of carbon-copy houses. It needs to be a community, a lifestyle. The commercial center was a good idea—one-stop shopping, entertainment, dining. Make it easy. Make it convenient. Make it attractive.”

Victor nodded, a glimmer of approval in his eyes. “Go on.”

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