Page 6 of Taming Grumpy Dr. Beast
Nivens waved a hand toward the seat in front of him, one far less grand than the one he sat in behind his desk. He closed the notebook he’d been writing in while his other hand plucked the gold-rimmed glasses from his bulbous nose, setting them to the side.
At least he no longer taught classes. No doubt his lectures were full of pomp and circumstance rather than learning. Nivens steepled his fingers in front of him, his puffy jowls easing up slightly as though he were trying to smile at me.
I kept my lips flat, pursed together, in a slight grimace. “Thank you for agreeing to meet with me.” I had perfected sounding civil when I felt anything but that. My parents had taught me well. “I know—”
“Let’s cut to the chase,” he interrupted me, his voice grating on my nerves. “You’re not happy with the committee’s decision that you keep the book and we have exclusive rights to the translation.”
I nodded, careful to keep my expression neutral to not betray what this book meant to me.
“I expect you have an offer, a reason that I can use to sway the committee in your favor?”
My fingers flexed. Before speaking, I drew in a breath, working to keep my tone void of emotion. “I heard the university wants to expand the library, but funds are an issue. A sizable donation would guarantee the expansion moves forward without delay. And I’d imagine the donor of said financial contribution might be able to negotiate the naming of the addition.”
His pale brown eyes gleamed as I imagined he pictured his name gracing the walls of this new wing. “Would you be open to this donation coming from a source other than your family?”
“Perhaps,” I said.
Nivens didn’t need to know the money would come directly from my personal bank account, not that of my family. My father would never lower himself to donate any part of his wealth to a university, even one as highly thought of as this one. If he couldn’t make money or obtain recognition through a donation, he wouldn’t bother.
Nivens quietly regarded me. The tips of his fingers tapped a rhythmic pattern. He gave a deep sigh. It was all for show. Everything this man did was for show, and I found it incessantly irritating. He was salivating at the possibility I offered him.
“How much?” he asked.
“What are you looking for?” I knew better than to give an amount. I forced myself to let go of my rigid position and eased my body into a less threatening, more relaxed pose.
“Hmmm...” I knew by his narrowed eyes fixated on my face—and the glee that he could barely contain—that he had an amount in mind. A brief curl of his lips preceded his next words. “One and a half million should do nicely.”
Was he serious? Had he already guessed that my interest in the book wasn’t purely academic, as I’d led everyone to believe? Despite how shocked I was at the number he suggested, I remained stoic and calm.
“One and a half million.” I repeated, buying myself time to think his offer through. Not that I couldn’t afford the amount. I could. But it surprised me he would be so brazen right off the bat to ask for that much.
“Yes, you’re lucky I’m even entertaining the thought of giving you the translation. The book itself is worth quite a bit and would be a coup for the university to showcase. You areverylucky we don’t ask for that as well.”
What an asshole, always putting his ego first. He thought I wanted the book for the notoriety that might follow, but he couldn’t have been more wrong. It was the one book my grandfather, the only person who mattered to me, had searched his whole life for and never found. That I discovered it in a box from an estate sale at a local restoration shop was nothing short of miraculous.
“One million.” I stood while maintaining eye contact with him. “I don’t bargain. That is my only and final offer. I want a new contract stating the translation in addition to retaining my rights to the book are non-negotiable. In return, I will have my lawyers draw up a personal contract between us stating that once the work is done to my satisfaction. I will deposit the funds into an account of your choosing.”
Nivens grinned. This time, his slightly yellowed teeth winked out between his lips. The whole effect was jarring.
“Excellent. Once I have your contract in hand, I will reach out to our restoration expert, Dr. LeBeau, once more. He tends to ignore our summons when he’s entrenched in his work,” Nivens informed me, his voice taking on a condescending tone. It was apparent he didn’t love his work enough to lose himself in it. It made me wonder how he’d gotten so far in this department and who he blackmailed to get here.
“Is this the same man the committee referred me to, Morris LeBeau?” I’d met Dr. LeBeau years ago and knew of his stellar reputation.
“Yes, we have him on retainer. He’s the best at restoration, and a former professor at this university. He left academia and started a private restoration business a few years ago. Slightly nutty if I do say so myself, but great at his job. Luckily, his daughter has recently taken on the role of his personal assistant since he’s so inconsistent in responding to requests.”
“And the translation?”
“I have someone in mind.”
“Contact me once you’ve gotten a hold of him so I can arrange for my estate to be ready for our arrival. Tell him he will accompany me there, and we will stay until the book is completed.”
Nivens opened his mouth to interject something I didn’t feel like listening to.
“Tell him we leave the moment the semester is over. I’ll send a car for him in three weeks.” I dismissed him with a glance, then turned and strode out of the room. I’d gotten what I came here for, and there was no need to pretend to be polite any longer.
I texted my other best friend, Jess.
Me: I fucking did it.
