Page 1 of Negotiating Tactics
One
Alex
“Do you need me to wait, ma’am?” the driver asked, his face in a tense smile and his eyes filled with sympathy.
He brushed his hand across his light blond hair then dropped it to his side, the crisp white of his shirt stark against his dark navy pants.
His voice was low but still audible on the quiet, peaceful street. We were standing on the sidewalk, and I looked over one shoulder, then the other, and saw nothing but leaves being pushed along the clean, empty sidewalk by the breeze and well-manicured trees swaying gently.
There wasn’t another soul in sight, and unless you suffered from dendrophobia, certainly no hint of danger.
Expected in this neighborhood, but I wasn’t one to take things for granted.
Still…
It was after one in the morning, and after the night I’d had, I wasn’t in the mood to take chances.
“Would you mind?” I finally responded, lowering my gaze to meet the driver’s bright blue eyes.
I envied how alert he seemed to be.
He gave me a quick smile and nodded his head. “Of course not, ma’am. Let me grab your bag.”
He reached for the gray and neon green duffel bag which currently held what I feared was the last of my worldly belongings and pulled it out of the trunk of the luxury sedan.
My bag was probably the cheapest thing that had ever been inside of the vehicle, but that was the last thing I wanted to think about.
Instead, I fished around in my pockets, thinning my lips when I realized that I didn’t have any cash.
I looked at the driver again, prepared to apologize, but before I could speak, he gave me another smile.
“Don’t worry, ma’am. Mr. Wilder has taken care of everything. Let me get this inside for you,” he said.
“Thanks,” I responded, not sure what else to say.
I already felt bad enough that I was having to rely on Dominic, my best friend Birdie’s new husband. But I appreciated the gesture. Besides, who else would have been able to get me a driver and place to stay after midnight?
I knew it was Birdie’s doing, but I was grateful all the same.
The driver hoisted my bag onto his shoulder and started walking. I fell into step beside him, then stopped when he opened the waist-high gate that led to the front yard. We walked up the brick-lined walkway and then up the three wide steps that led to the front door of the four-story townhouse.
When I’d called Birdie, panicked, she’d calmly told me to write down an address and said she’d have a car sent over to my apartment. I hadn’t recognized the address, but that was no surprise. I knew Dominic owned numerous properties throughout the city, which was how Birdie had been able to offer the place at this late hour and on such short notice.
I hated taking handouts, but I ignored the shame that was simmering and looked up appreciatively at the building.
The townhouse had a beautiful stone facade, one that had either been immaculately cared for or had been restored to perfection.
It reminded me of my building…
Well, it wasn’t mine—not yet—but I hoped it would be one day.
I sighed with the realization that the night’s events might have put that hope out of reach.
The driver cleared his throat, and I looked over to see him standing next to me on the porch, watching me expectantly. “Oh, right. There’s no key, right?” I asked, as I smiled at him, sheepish that I’d been caught daydreaming.
He nodded. “No, ma’am. There’s a code to unlock the door, but I don’t know it,” the driver said.
“Yeah. Birdie sent it to me,” I muttered, shaking my head as I pulled my phone out of my pocket.