Page 29 of Mr. Aster
She narrowed her eyes at me. “I don’t need you correcting me,” she exhaled. “In fact, while we’re on the subject of my dad and his horriblebusinessacumen…”
She paused, and I smiled.
“Go on. Perhaps you’re going to tell me that you could run this place better than me?”
She folded her arms and placed them on the table. “Perhaps,” she smiled. I assumed she thought her plan to auction me off for a date night hadn’t gotten back to me.
“Ah,” I baited her more. “And how would you propose to save a failing winery with amazing wine and no one to market it?”
“Well, you bring the winery to the wealthy people who have never heard of it before,” she said with a knowing arch of her eyebrow.
“Indeed?” I smiled. “But how would you accomplish something like that when the last thing the wealthy want is to be intruded upon?”
“Well, I’m sure they’re up for tasting wine, specifically something new. Especially…” she paused, and I could tell she was trying not to laugh.
“Especially what?”
“Especially Sebastian Aster’s wine.”
I watched her cover a smile, utterly amused by her secret plan. If I hadn’t had a trick up my sleeve to turn this around on her, I’d be outraged by the young woman’s presence. But I had my plan to checkmate her ass, and because of that, I found this exchange entertaining.
“Ah, I see,” I answered her. “Of course, you must know there’s more to it than marketing. Like I said, the wealthy donotlike to be bothered with nonsense and solicitors.”
“Right, they mustwantto invest,” she challenged. “And they can only want to invest if they taste what Sebastian Aster is offering.” She sat back in her chair, “I believe there are hundreds, if not more, of people of your status who wouldpayanything to sample a piece of you.”
I met her challenging expression with an arch of my brow, “You believe that, huh?”
“I know that,” she said too proudly.
“Of course you do,” I said. The time for her games was over, and now it was my turn to flip the script. “But how would you know anything about what people ofmy statuswould feel about me enough to want to sample a piece of anything I had to offer?”
Her confident expression started to falter, “Well, it’s obvious. You’re a good-looking man with a lot of money.”
“A dime a dozen. People of my status want more than that,” I lied.
Obviously, people of my status were attracted to wealth and success before anything else. Still, I lied for a reason, which was unfolding before my eyes as I watched confident and cute Darcy turn into timid and concerned Darcy.
“Forgive me, I forgot, they want status and success too. Tell me,” she seemed to grow flustered, “why are we even having this conversation, and why did you ask me to breakfast?”
“Why did you accept my invitation?” I smiled.
“I asked first.”
“Well, to answer your first question, we’re having this conversation because you boldly proclaimed that you could run a business better than me.”
“Well, not better than you. Who knows, maybe I could.”
“Perhaps you could. If you researched business models and planned things well in advance, your feisty, competitive nature, which I find myself combating daily, would do very well.”
“I do my research,” she answered.
“Not well enough,” I dabbed the corners of my mouth. “Certainly not as well as I would, and that’s a fact.”
“You seem confident in that,” she challenged.
“If I weren’t confident, I wouldn’t have challenged you to counter that truth.”
“Well, my latestbusinessplan, which I proposed for a quick return on your and Jim Mitchell’s investment in the winery, proves that I’m better at ROI than you could ever be.”
