CHAPTER 6
“Good.”
He smiled.
“I have lawyers for that.”
“Also good.”
“I am asking one question.”
Amara waited.
“When you read that clause, was the wording obviously different from what Richard said it meant?”
“Yes.”
“How obvious?”
Amara looked at the French.
Then at him.
“If someone told me this was a partnership agreement, I would expect shared rights, defined limits, or mutual consent.”
She pointed at the clause.
“This says that under specific triggers, your voting rights are assigned irrevocably to the acquiring entity.”
Laurent nodded.
“Exactly.”
“And this sentence expands the affected interests beyond the joint venture.”
“Yes.”
Amara tapped another word.
“Here.”
Laurent leaned closer.
“ensemble.”
“All.”
He exhaled.
“All participating entities.”
Amara nodded.
Laurent sat back.
“My lawyers are reviewing it now.”
“Then listen to them.”
He smiled.
“I intend to.”
Then:
“Where did you learn French?”
Amara hesitated.
“Lyon.”
Laurent’s eyebrows rose.
“You lived there?”
“A year.”
“For university?”
“Yes.”
“What did you study?”
“International business and French.”
His expression changed.
“You studied international business.”
“Yes.”
Richard’s mistake suddenly looked even more ridiculous.
Laurent glanced toward her server uniform.
Amara noticed.
He caught himself.
“Sorry.”
She smiled faintly.
“For what?”
“For doing exactly what Richard did in the opposite direction.”
Amara laughed.
“That’s more self-awareness than he showed all night.”
Laurent smiled.
Then became serious.
“Why are you working here?”
She had heard the question before.
Usually phrased more carefully.
Sometimes not.
Amara answered:
“Because life didn't follow my résumé.”
Laurent waited.
“My mother had a stroke two years ago.”
“I’m sorry.”
“She’s doing better.”
Amara folded her hands.
“I left a logistics job. Came home. Needed work with flexible hours.”
“And now?”
“I’m applying to graduate school.”
“In?”
“International business law and compliance.”
Laurent stared at her for a second.
Then laughed softly.
“Of course you are.”
Amara tilted her head.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
He stood.
Then placed a business card on the table.
Not money.
A card.
“Send me your résumé.”
Amara looked at it.
“Why?”
“My company has a U.S. compliance office.”
She did not touch the card immediately.
Laurent noticed.
“This is not payment for tonight.”
“Good.”
“And not charity.”
“Better.”
“It is an invitation to interview.”
Amara picked up the card.
“That I can accept.”
Laurent nodded.
Then looked down at the floor near Table Twelve.
The hundred-dollar bill was gone.