At the negotiating table, self-interest ruled above all else.
And Alexander Davidson was a master of that arena.
He appeared to be merely asking questions, but every word was a subtle maneuver, steering the conversation where he wanted.
“Of course,” Liam said, a sardonic smile tugging at his lips, “if you want to take the lead on this project, you’ll have to prove your capability. We can’t just take your word for it, can we?”
The mockery in his eyes was impossible to miss; he looked at Danielle as if the whole situation were some kind of joke.
Who was she, after all, to challenge Millie Fletcher for this project?
Danielle Crawford narrowed her eyes.
Mr. Keeley had just reminded everyone that Newsworld was the project’s largest investor—they held all the real power in the room.
The contract would be signed with Newsworld. Ninesky could see the project through, but without Newsworld, the project was simply too big for them to handle alone.
It was a forced partnership—no way around it.
Danielle fell silent for a moment.
The entire conference room went still; a heavy, stifling quiet settled in as everyone exchanged uneasy glances.
She composed herself, meeting Alexander’s cool, unfathomable gaze. “So, Mr. Davidson, what do you propose?”
“If you want to take the lead, that’s possible,” Alexander replied, his words calm yet carrying the weight of authority that came from years at the top. The faintest hint of a smile touched his lips. “Sign a performance agreement. Prove to me you can deliver.”
Danielle’s breath caught in her throat.
Even Gian Atwood, seated beside her, couldn’t hide his dismay.
If they wanted control of the project, they’d have to accept his terms.
In this tense silence, Alexander wielded his power as easily as a scepter, dictating terms with a few measured words.
His negotiating prowess was undeniable.
Danielle’s hands tightened in her lap, her knuckles white.
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