“I’ll bet,” I say, “No pun intended. But as for the actual launching of my startup—”
“Oh yes,” Declan says, “Here’s the deal. I’m looking to invest $250,000 in a new idea that I think can really take off. I’m not looking for a huge cut of the profits, either. Ten percent would do just fine.”
“Ten percent?” I say, surprised.
“Is that unfavorable to you?” he asks.
“It’s just...so low,” I reply. “You're bringing everything to the table practically, it's a huge risk. ”
“I don’t need a whole lot more money,” Declan winks, “I’m just looking to help out a deserving young entrepreneur. Like yourself. I would have liked the same leg up when I was getting started. Would have saved me a whole lot of heartache.”
A thousand questions are ricocheting around my mind. What’s the deal with the bad boy/businessman personality split, here? Where do military service and professional boxing figure into his life as a venture capitalist? What, exactly, is Dante's Nine all about? How can Declan be all these things at the same time? Why did he only ask for female applications, and what the hell was with the Eastern European thing? Is this guy for real, or am I walking into some horrible trap right now?
“You look concerned,” Declan smiles, “What’s on your mind, Kassenia?”
“To be perfectly honest, Declan,” I say, “I suppose I’m wondering what the catch might be, here.”
He laughs again—not meanly, but with something like appreciation. “Good for you for asking,” he says, “I like a bit of moxie in my business associates. You’re right. This whole thing must sound completely insane. And you know what? I’m not claiming that it isn’t a bit of an odd arrangement I’m proposing. But if you get to know me, Kassenia, I think you’ll find that I’m someone who likes to play by his own rules.”
“Oh, I think I can already see that from where I’m sitting,” I smile.
“And I think I can already see that you’re just like me, that way,” he says, leaning forward conspiratorially.
I feel a blush creeping into my cheeks at his sudden intimacy. This guy can bowl me over with a single smile. That kind of power is not something I’m used to, not something that I’ve ever come in contact with before. I realize, sitting there with him, that I’m terrified of Declan Tiberi. Terrified, and intrigued, and ready to follow wherever he leads.
“So, what do you think, Kassenia?” he says, “Are you interested in the internship? Because I’m very interested in you taking it.”
“I’m...Yes,” I breathe, my heartbeat picking up speed, “I’m very interested.”
“Good,” he grins, “That’s very good.”
“Are you, um...interviewing other people?” I ask.
“I don’t think I’ll have to, if you want the job,” he says, “But before we make anything official, there are a few additional details that you’ll need to be privy to.”
“Oh?” I ask. This is it, the catch. What “details” is he going to give me now? And how outrageous are his conditions going to be?
“Everything you need to know is outlined here,” he says, pulling a plain white envelope out of his cut, “I’ll leave it with you now and let you consider it on your own. When you’ve reviewed my terms and come to your decision, you can get in touch with me regarding your answer.”
“Oh. OK,” I say, taking the envelope in my hands, “That’s it?”
“That’s it,” he says, pulling himself to standing, “It was very nice to meet you, Kassenia. I hope this won’t be the last time we see each other.”
“I...Me too,” I stammer, smiling up at him. I see his eyes flick away from mine for just a second, raking down along my body. I can feel the heat of his gaze across my firm bust, my wide hips. I find myself hoping, ridiculously, the he likes what he sees.
“Do be in touch,” he says, resting his hand lightly on mine where it sits on the table. Another electric thrill runs up along my skin where his fingers graze. My mouth falls open in silent awe, and I’m rendered too speechless to even manage a simple “goodbye”. All at once, he turns to go. I watch him make his way back through the coffee shop and out to his bike. Now that his back is turned, I let myself drink in the sight of him with abandon. Men like Declan are only supposed to exist in the movies—or Greek mythology. Yet here he is, having walked right into my dull little life.
Declan lights himself another cigarette, looking for the world like James Dean’s older, more mysteriously dangerous brother. He swings a leg over the seat and pulls his helmet down over his head, cigarette held easily between his lips. His eyes dart my way one last time, and he shoots me a wicked wink through the coffee shop window. My heart skips at least three beats as he takes off on his Harley. Another roar of his engine suspends every conversation in the shop, and then he’s gone once more. And though we only shared each other’s company for a few minutes, I feel like an entirely new person already.
I slouch back in my chair, utterly shell-shocked in his wake. It isn’t until Kelly comes tearing across the room that I remember where I am. I look up, surprised, at my best friend’s excited face.
“Holy. Fucking. Shit,” she hisses, sinking down into the chair across from me, “I can’t believe that was him! Did that really just happen? I don’t even know what to say, Kass.”
“That makes two of us,” I say, bemused.
“What did you talk about? What is he like?” she gushes, “Tell me everything. And what’s in that envelope?”
I look down at the little white rectangle in my hands. Curiosity takes over, and I rip into the envelope like a madwoman. A thick contract is waiting for my signature inside, along with a handwritten note from Declan:
Kassenia,
Though we’ve yet to sit down together, I can already say that it was great to meet you today, and I think your business idea is fantastic. This interview was really just a formality—I knew that I wanted to hire you the second I read your application. I hope you don’t mind my being thorough by coming to meet you in person. You can never be too careful in choosing new business partners.
With my help, your website will be a sure bet. I’m offering you the internship, along with the $250,000 dollar trust. There is one catch, of course: You have to move to Las Vegas for the summer in order to receive the money. This is non-negotiable, as far as I’m concerned. This is necessary for two reasons—Firstly: so that we can work closely every day to get your idea up and running, and so that you can network with some of my associates who also live in Vegas. Like I said, I will provide you with a very nice place to stay, it's all taken care of. Secondly: You could stand to have a little fun, I think. A beautiful young woman like yourself shouldn’t be languishing in Berkeley doing freelance coding.