Chapter 196: Chapter 196: An Invitation to a Massage
That "everyone present gets a share" was far too ambiguous. The men at the table exchanged glances and all started to laugh.
President Mason introduced the various bosses to Cecelia Archer. She was relieved to find he hadn’t lied about this, at least—the companies and names all matched her list, which gave her a renewed sense of confidence.
The food hadn’t arrived yet, so everyone started with tea. Seizing the opportunity, Cecelia Archer distributed the multiple copies of the proposal she had printed and began to carefully explain its terms.
But she had barely gotten a few sentences out when someone pushed their copy of the proposal to the center of the table.
"What’s been going on lately? Is the real estate market about to recover, or is some major new policy on the horizon? Why are both the Vaughn Group and the Grant Group pulling this stuff?"
"Sure, our little operations don’t make a ton of money each year, but we’re comfortable being our own bosses. Why does everyone suddenly want to acquire us?"
Cecelia Archer’s heart sank.
’What does he mean, "everyone" wants to acquire them? Has the Vaughn Group also made them an offer?’
’Damien Vaughn is truly ruthless!’
’He must have been planning to crush the Grant Group all along!’
’Otherwise, why make one move after another? He’s trying to cut off every escape route for the Grant Group!’
Noticing the look of shock on her face, the man leaned back in his chair and drawled.
"Vaughn Group beat you to it and sent someone to talk to us. It was just yesterday, right, Lewis? Their marketing manager came in person. That’s actually why we all gathered here today. Since we’re on the topic, let’s talk. What’s everyone thinking?"
"What is there to think?" President Lewis took over.
"They’re definitely up to no good. Why would they approach us if they weren’t trying to get something out of us? Don’t forget that time I approached the Grant Group about an acquisition and they wouldn’t even give me the time of day. They must be seeing red over this international airport project. They need our support, both in terms of scale and finances."
"That makes sense. But in theory, being acquired by them wouldn’t be so bad, would it? The real estate market gets worse every year. You know what they say, it’s nice and cool in the shade of a big tree..."
"That may be true. But if you sell to the Vaughn Group and then the Grant Group snatches the project, won’t all their promises to us just be empty words? We’d still be working ourselves to the bone for no money, and we’d have to answer to them on top of it all. It’s the same story if we sell to the Grant Group."
Seeing that they were all on the verge of agreeing not to side with anyone, Cecelia Archer quickly interjected to tout her own company’s strengths.
They couldn’t compete with the Vaughn Group in terms of scale, but their experience and reputation in the real estate industry were second to none.
However, no one was listening to her pitch. Just then, the waitstaff began serving the dishes, and the men’s clamor cut her off.
"Work is over, time to relax. Enough shop talk, it’s giving me a headache. Come on, let’s eat. A beautiful woman like Linden must be even more stunning when she drinks. Allow me to offer you a toast."
Setting aside the fact that Cecelia Archer couldn’t drink because she’d just had surgery—even if she were able to, she wouldn’t.
One woman against seven men—she wasn’t stupid.
"My apologies, but President Grant gave me strict orders. I need a definitive answer from all of you by noon tomorrow at the latest. I’ll have to work late when I get back tonight, so I really can’t drink much."
"Then just have a little. We promise not to get you drunk. If not hard liquor, then red wine should be fine, right? Here, waiter! Bring over that bottle of red wine I have stored here."
"I appreciate the kind offer, but I’m really a lightweight."
When President Mason saw her repeatedly decline, his expression turned stern.
"Why are you being so difficult? You want to do business with us, but you won’t show a shred of sincerity. Do you really expect a few words to be enough to make us sign our livelihoods over to you? The world doesn’t work that way. Your President Grant is a master of business; didn’t he teach you that the first step is making the client happy? Tolerance is something you build up. Just drink a little more often, and you’ll be fine. Don’t be difficult."
After that, Cecelia Archer found she had no more excuses to refuse. Besides, she desperately wanted to close this deal. She looked at everyone with a serious expression.
"Fine, you insist I drink. But I have to complete the task my boss assigned me. So how about this."
"I’ll drink. But in return, you have to promise to sign with the Grant Group. Right now."
The men exchanged glances, then burst into boisterous laughter.
"Just as expected of Shane Grant’s special assistant. Bold thoughts, clever thoughts. Linden, that’s not wine you’re offering to drink—it’s diamonds. It’s just a drink. It’s not like you’re agreeing to be a girlfriend to each of us. Don’t you think you’re overvaluing yourself, making a demand like that?"
In that case, Cecelia Archer wasn’t drinking.
She wasn’t one to do something for nothing.
"Since you all feel that way, I won’t disturb you any longer. I’ll go settle the bill. Please, consider this meal on President Grant. Goodbye."
With that, she stuffed the documents into her bag and started to rise, but President Mason grabbed her arm.
"Whoa, whoa, it was just a joke. Why so serious all of a sudden?"
"Linden, you’ve only been here for a few minutes. You’re not going to give us any time to think it over? Haste makes waste, you know."
Cecelia Archer looked at President Mason. "I’m not the one who’s impatient. As I said, this is the task my president assigned me. You’re all bosses yourselves; I’m sure you can understand."
She tried to leave again, but President Mason wouldn’t let go.
"It’s this late already. You have to eat when you get home anyway, so what’s the rush?"
President Mason stood up and pressed her back down into her chair.
"Look, how about this? I’ll give you some peace of mind so you’re not on pins and needles. Just sit here and finish this meal with us, and I’ll sign for you. How does that sound?"
The men all chuckled again.
"Looks like President Mason has taken a liking to her, huh? Willing to sign away his company just to win a beautiful woman’s smile. Now that’s something."
"Heh heh. What can I say? I’m a single man. Come on, guys, do me a favor. If she doesn’t want to drink, don’t force her."
Since they weren’t making her drink anymore, and President Mason had promised to sign, Cecelia Archer put her bag back down.
Throughout the rest of the meal, they chatted about trivial matters and cracked occasional jokes. The atmosphere was surprisingly pleasant.
Two hours later, the dinner ended. Someone suggested going for massages to unwind, and President Mason told Cecelia Archer to join them.
"You’re so wound up all the time; it’s not good for you. Come along. I’ll find a good therapist to work on you."
"I couldn’t, President Mason..."
"Give me the contract, I’ll sign it! Just promise you’ll come, and I’ll handle the others for you. I guarantee they’ll all sign with the Grant Group by noon tomorrow. Is that good enough for you?"
It seemed President Mason had really taken a shine to Cecelia Archer and wanted to pursue her. To make her happy, he was willing to do just about anything.
With things finally going her way, Cecelia Archer didn’t dare hesitate. She took the pre-prepared contract out of her bag.
Before long, the group had arrived at a well-known hot spring hotel in the city center.
The hotel offered accommodations, saunas, baths, hot springs, massages, foot soaks, and a variety of other services. It had a massive daily clientele and was a legitimate, respectable establishment—one Cecelia Archer had long heard of.
"President Mason, ever the big spender. Treating us to a place like this just to make a pretty lady happy. Tsk, tsk!"
Gazing at the magnificent, brilliantly illuminated edifice, the group continued to tease President Mason and Cecelia Archer as they walked.
They were completely oblivious to the wolf-like gaze fixed upon them from behind—the gaze of Damien Vaughn.
Comments