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The contract
TOM’S POV
Maxwell rolled the pen between his thumb and forefinger, staring at the contract in his hands as if it was calculus or something complicated. Sweat beaded his forehead as he read through the document. I would bet he couldn’t understand a single word in that document. That was what made Maxwell Ford an easy prey.
I just wished he wouldn’t waste my time instead.
I sighed against the sofa I sat on, making sure to keep a placid smile on my face. I couldn’t give off the impression that the fat ass sitting directly across me irritated the shit out of me. I had gotten the Maxwell contract with a very particular quality I had in abundance. Persistence.
Yeah, I knew I was damned persistent.
A buddy of mine had informed me that Maxwell was looking for a partner in building ballrooms in Manhattan. The robust man was New York’s number-one event organiz
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