Ronin laughed—like she’d hoped.
“It’s a big step for us. I’ll think about it, okay? But I need some time before I can answer you.”
“Okay. In the meantime, I’ll give you another reason to make this permanent.” He pushed up. “I’m cooking dinner. Pulling out all the stops to wow you with my culinary expertise.”
“You’re making hot wings?” she asked hopefully.
He sighed. “I’ll make spicy chicken br**sts.”
She smiled. “Close enough. See? I’m willing to compromise on some things.”
A dangerously possessive look flitted through his eyes. “Understand that when it comes to what I want from you, I’m not willing to compromise. At all.”
• • •
AMERY picked up croissants and fruit tarts on the way to her place Monday morning. The coffee had just finished brewing when Molly yelled, “Amery?” from the bottom of the staircase.
“Come on up.”
Molly looked professional in a western-cut tweed blazer, a dark brown A-line skirt, and tan riding boots. Something had prompted her employee to care more about her appearance both on and off the job in the past two months. With a flattering new hairstyle, different makeup, and age-appropriate wardrobe updates, she’d transformed herself from geek to chic. Molly had also lost the baby fat in her cheeks, and overall she was much more toned since she’d started taking classes at Black Arts.
“Hey, woman, what an awesome outfit.”
Molly blushed. “Thanks.”
“Seriously. You look great.”
“I credit kickboxing at the dojo three times a week. Deacon is a mean bastard, but I won’t let him chase me off or convince me I’m too soft.” She checked out the food on the counter. “Wow. Now, here’s a breakfast spread. What’s the occasion?”
Amery filled two cups and slid one across the counter. “I wanted to—” She glanced up sharply when Molly gasped. “What’s wrong?”
“You’re firing me, aren’t you? This is a goodbye breakfast.”
“God, no. Take a breath, okay? This is just breakfast.”
Molly nodded and wrapped her hands around her coffee cup like it was a lifeline.
“I needed to talk to you about something before we tackle the Wicksburg Farm project.”
“What’s going on?”
“I had lunch with Shiori Hirano on Friday.”
“No wonder you were so distracted.”
“I wasn’t sure what she wanted. I’d suspected she wanted to clear the air since I’m involved with her brother again.”
“But?” Molly prompted and reached for a blueberry tart.
“It ended up being a business meeting.” Amery sipped her coffee. “About the pitch I made to Okada Foods.”
“Please tell me she asked you to pitch something again?”
“No need to. Long story short, the multiple major design companies they checked out for the same project we worked on were bypassed in favor of our designs.”
Molly’s jaw dropped. Luckily she slapped her hand over her mouth before blueberry filling spilled out. She swigged her coffee and blurted, “Omigod. Amery, that’s huge! And this is not one of the times to cut the story short. I need details.”
So Amery filled her in on everything, and Molly still wore a look of shock.
“I knew our designs rocked because they were so different, but I kinda worried that might be a detriment.”
“Evidently not. Here’s where we stand and what Okada offered.” She pulled out the contracts. “Try not to get blueberry stains on them.”
Molly stuck out her tongue.
Amery finished three cups of coffee and sorted her laundry while Molly scoured the documents. She’d pulled a notepad out of her purse and jotted down notes.
“Okay. You can stop pacing now,” she called from the kitchen.
“What’s the verdict, MBA candidate?”
“Well, the contracts are specific, and extensive, but they seem fair. I’d definitely have a lawyer look them over and see if any loopholes show up.”
“So which, if any, option do you think is best?”
Molly looked taken aback. “Why are you asking me? You’re the owner.”
“But you’ve got a stake in this too. You worked on the project for free. You haven’t cut your hours back even when I’ve cut your paycheck. You’re very much a team player. I need to know if you want to be on my team and, if so, whether it’s long-term.” She held up her hand when Molly opened her mouth. “Hear me out completely first.
“You’re in school. This job was supposed to be part-time, no pressure, a way to give you a chance to work with your creative side. Not everyone can get an MBA, and your business classes are just going to get harder in the next two years. I’m not implying that you can’t do both—I just want you to ask yourself if you think it’s worth it.”
“What? Getting my MBA? Or working here?”
“Either. Both. If I decide to sign the contract, I can’t do all the work myself. I need help. I’d love for that help to come from you. But then again, this is my business, and I’m not sure if you want to be invested in my vision. I hope you understand I’m saying that with zero malice, Molly. You are a bright, fantastic young woman with a thousand roads open to you. I don’t want you to feel you’ve gotten stuck on this one with me.” Amery stopped to take a breath.
“Well, if you’re done listing all the reasons I should cut tail and run, maybe you’d like to hear my perspective?” Molly said curtly.
“By all means.”
“I applied to graduate school in Denver because I knew if I didn’t, I’d be stuck living at home, working as a number cruncher for my uncle Bob’s insurance business for the rest of my life. So I never had a burning desire to get an MBA as much as I had a burning desire to get the hell out of Norfolk, Nebraska.
“I spent my whole life goal oriented. My nose stuck in a book. Believing the world I lived in with my family would always be enough. I think I still sort of believed that even after I moved here. But my ideas began to change after I went to work for you. You never made me feel dowdy or like a hick girl in the city. You took the time to teach me, to build up my self-esteem, to show me that yes, maybe someday I could be as cool as you—working in a job I love, having friends to hang out with and not just wacky relatives. I could have a better future than I ever imagined for myself.”