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ten.”
    â€œFine. And when I double it, I’ll take the twenty thousand and another fifty to start my business.”
    â€œOur business,” he corrected. “And you only get three weeks. Not three months.” No use making it easy on her.
    Her jaw dropped. “Three weeks! I cannot possibly—”
    â€œThen we have nothing else to discuss.” He stood and walked around his desk. “Good day, Miss Sloane.”
    â€œFine! Three weeks from today.”
    He suppressed a smirk. She would need to learn better negotiation skills for certain. He shoved his hands in his pockets. “Tell me something.”
    â€œYes?”
    â€œWhat’s in it for me?”
    â€œWell, money, of course.”
    â€œI’ve got plenty of money. You’ll have to do better than that.”
    This caught her off guard, and she started chewing her lip. “I . . . There’s nothing other than altruism and money in it for you, I’m afraid.”
    â€œOne unappealing and the other completely unnecessary. What else?” He moved toward her, relieved to see she didn’t back away from him like other women had in the past. When he reached the edge of his desk, he leaned on the heavy wood and crossed his feet. “For example, what happens if you fail? I’m out ten thousand dollars.”
    â€œI don’t have the money to pay you back, at least not yet.” She paused, then brightened. “But I can repay you in Northeast stock. From my trust.”
    â€œI can purchase common stock anytime I choose.”
    â€œThis is preferred stock. My father started the company only a few years before he died, and he put some in a trust for me. I’m certain I have enough stock to sign over to you, should I fail. Which I won’t.”
    Emmett swore he could hear his heart beating in his ears. Northeast hadn’t put preferred stock on the market in eight years. Owning some not only promised a higher dividend return on the company’s earnings, but such stock could possibly allow him voting rights. Will Sloane would shit himself when he found out—not that Emmett would tell any of this to Elizabeth.
    â€œWhy not wait until your twenty-fifth birthday, then, to start your company?”
    â€œBecause I am tired of waiting. Another four years is intolerable.”
    Something about her answer felt off; Emmett would swear on it. The woman stood to inherit a large trust in a few years, so why not wait? More evidence all was not well in the house of Sloane.
    Damn, he’d enjoyed this visit, probably more than he should have. He liked her; it surprised him how much.
    The two of them had little in common—his upbringing in the filth of Five Points could not be more different than her privileged youth—but she had spirit, an unwavering desire to succeed, much as he had when first starting out.
    A shame their paths wouldn’t cross again. No chance she would win the wager, not in such a short period of time. Which meant her brother would never learn of this visit. Unless . . .
    â€œYou present a tempting offer, Miss Sloane. Now, would you like to hear my counteroffer?”
    â€œA counteroffer?”
    â€œYes, something I want from you in exchange.”
    She clasped her hands, almost as if bracing herself. “And what might that be, Mr. Cavanaugh?”
    â€œI want you to have dinner with me.”
    â€œDinner?” Rounded gray eyes quickly narrowed suspiciously. The woman had no idea how to conceal an emotion. Really, the jackals on Wall Street would swallow her whole. “When?”
    â€œFriday, at Delmonico’s.”
    â€œI couldn’t possibly do that. What would . . .”
    When she didn’t finish, he said, “Yes, what would they say? Knickerbocker’s finest, dining with the likes of me. Could the city handle such a scandal?”
    â€œYou are mocking me.”
    â€œI do no such thing, Miss Sloane. I want to have dinner