Michael breaks into laughter, and I can’t help grinning as I lift my glass and drink to that statement of hers. I’ve been wondering about the purpose for this meeting, but Michael and I haven’t allowed ourselves to muse about it out loud. Paul Richard left a really bad taste in our mouths, and neither of us is over it. Angèlique, however, is totally different. She’s not stuck-up. Everything about her screams competence and honesty. It’s hard not to like her.
“You might not be aware of this,” she says, “but the MLA deal was my project, and Paul stuck his nose in it at the last minute. On behalf of LVMH, I’d like to sincerely apologize for his actions. But that’s not the only reason why I’m here. The first thing that I want to do as the new head of acquisitions is finish what I started. I’d like nothing better than to bring MLA under the LVMH umbrella—and that means both of you. To let you know how serious I am, I’m upping our original offer by twenty percent.”
Considering what the original offer was, twenty percent is a lot of money. I glance at Michael to gauge his response and smile when I find him doing the same thing to me.
“We’re going to need to discuss this,” I say.
“Of course,” she says.
I half expect her to get up and leave just like Paul Richard did, but she settles in and actually has lunch with us. She asks about our summer product line. She’s been keeping up with our social media accounts and is excited by the publicity we’ve been getting recently. To demonstrate how much she loves Michael’s designs, she shows us pictures of her kids on her phone. I don’t know if she did it on purpose or not, but it looks like her kids wear MLA exclusively and I can tell it pleases Michael. That’s the quickest way to my heart.
When lunch is over, we shake hands and part ways, promising to get in touch soon.
“So?” Michael asks as he drives us back to our building. “What are you thinking?”
“I think she’s prepared to up the offer by twenty-five percent, maybe thirty,” I say in a neutral tone, even though my heart is pounding so hard I feel like it might break through my ribs.
Michael’s wearing his sunglasses so I can’t see his eyes, but I still know what he’s thinking when he looks at me and then returns his attention to the road. “That’s not what I was asking.”
I shrug and try to play it cool, but a grin sneaks onto my mouth.
He must see it because he shoves my shoulder hard. “Asshole, you had me going there. You want to do it, right? It’ll really happen this time. If we want it to.”
“Okay, yeah. I want to do it. She gets us. Plus, she might be our number one customer.” I take my phone out to compulsively check my email, adding, “Still, I need to see this written out before …”
At the top of my inbox is a new email from Ikande, A. There’s a file attached. When I open it, I see it’s the contract that we worked on with Paul Richard, except now it clearly specifies PER THIS CONTRACT, QUAN DIEP WILL STAY ON AS CHIEF EXECUTIVE OFFICER OF MICHAEL LARSEN APPAREL & CO., SUBSIDIARY OF LVMH MO?T HENNESSY LOUIS VUITTON.
“What?” Michael asks.
“She just sent us the contract,” I say. “It’s exactly as she said.”
“Shit. This is really going to happen now.” Michael swallows, and his face turns greenish as he grips the steering wheel like he might faint.
“Deep breaths. Pull over and let me drive. Anna will kill me if I get in a car accident.”
“I’m fine, I’m fine,” he says, shaking it off and getting control of himself. “You sure you want to do this? We don’t have to. But we should consider it serious—”
“Yes, I want to. I’m not going to let a grudge hold us back. We’re ready. We’re going to kick ass.” I feel the rightness of this in my bones, and I know we’re going to see this through. We’re going to dress a whole shitload of kids in super-cute clothes, and we’re going to have the time of our lives doing it.
Michael grins so hard he looks a little scary, but I figure I look the same way.
When I arrive at our apartment a few hours later, I can’t wait to tell Anna the news. But I don’t get the usual attack hug from her. As far as I can tell, she’s not even home, which instantly makes me worry.
I take my shoes off and venture into our apartment, and there, on the kitchen table, is a homemade cake covered with burning candles.
“Happy birthday.” Anna jumps out from the kitchen, lifts her violin to her chin, and plays in front of me for the first time ever, a huge smile on her face.