Chapter 49
Raven
Leonard's composure shattered like fine china hitting marble. His eyes darted between Almeida's impressed expression and my unflinching stare. The room fell into a silence so complete I could practically hear the gears grinding in his head as he recalculated everything he thought he knew about the Martinez family.
"I—I seem to have misunderstood the situation," Leonard stammered, his previous condescension evaporating. He straightened his Italian silk tie with trembling fingers. "Perhaps you could assist with the translation for our business discussion? Your command of the language is... exceptional."
I examined my nails with deliberate nonchalance. "I'm not particularly interested in helping people who disrespect my father."
David touched my arm gently. "Raven, honey, maybe you should—"
"What? Help him after he treated you like you were invisible?" I cut in, not taking my eyes off Leonard's increasingly uncomfortable face. "Have you forgotten how he dismissed you not five minutes ago? Like you weren't even worth acknowledging?"
Leonard's face flushed red. Something beautiful was happening—the shift in power dynamics was almost palpable in the air. I'd seen this countless times during negotiations in my previous life. The moment when leverage changes hands.
"That was... a terrible misunderstanding," Leonard said, his voice dropping into a register of desperate sincerity. He turned to David, now addressing him with the respect of equals. "Mr. Martinez, I apologize for my behavior. Please, allow me to give you my card." He fumbled in his jacket pocket, producing a heavy embossed business card that he handed to David with both hands, as if offering a precious gift.
"I have some urgent matters to attend to tonight, but I would be honored to discuss potential business opportunities with you soon. Very soon."
David's face lit up like a child on Christmas morning. "That would be wonderful," he replied, his voice steadier than I'd heard it in weeks.
I maintained my unimpressed expression, crossing my arms to emphasize my dissatisfaction. Leonard noticed immediately, his anxiety visibly increasing.
"Pierre!" Leonard called out to a passing server. "Please bring Mr. Martinez the chef's special. The wagyu with truffle reduction." He bustled around David, personally adjusting his chair, then grabbing a napkin and attempting to place it on David's lap like he was royalty.
Karen's jaw dropped so dramatically I feared she might dislocate it. She tugged at Ben's sleeve, whispering furiously, "What is happening? Why is Leonard Fischer treating them like VIPs?"
Ben's response was cold and pragmatic. "Because they have something we don't—a daughter who's clearly going places." He shot Karen a withering look. "Don't you dare speak to Raven like that again. Times change. Who knows? The Martinez family could be our meal ticket if things continue this way."
Karen's mouth opened and closed like a goldfish gasping for air, unable to form a coherent response.
I allowed myself a small smile of satisfaction. The family dynamics had been rearranged in under five minutes. Not my most impressive work, but satisfying nonetheless.
"Fine," I announced, loud enough to recapture the room's attention. "I'll translate for you."
Leonard's relief was almost pathetic. "Excellent! Mr. Almeida has suggested we continue our discussion at a nearby establishment—"
"We'll conduct the negotiations right here," I interrupted, making direct eye contact with Almeida. This wasn't just about showing off—I wanted Karen and Cindy to witness every moment of what was about to happen.
Almeida frowned, his thick eyebrows drawing together. "Mas eu preferia um lugar mais... descontraído," he protested, suggesting he preferred somewhere more relaxed.
I switched to Portuguese, my tone shifting to the familiar rhythm of Rio's business districts. "Olha só, vamos ser diretos aqui. Se quiser fechar esse negócio hoje, fica aqui. E te garanto que vai ser bem mais vantajoso do que qualquer conversa em bar cheio de distrações." My suggestion that staying would be more advantageous than a bar full of distractions hit its mark.
He looked unconvinced, so I switched tactics, leaning forward and lowering my voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "Além disso, aqueles caras no bar que você queria ir? Eles trabalham para os federais. Eu sei, tenho contatos. Você realmente quer discutir seus... 'investimentos especiais' lá?"
His eyes widened at my implication that the bar was being watched by federal agents. A complete fabrication, of course, but delivered with just the right balance of concern and insider knowledge.
"Caralho!" he exclaimed, then broke into a wide grin. "Você é esperta, garota! Gosto do seu estilo. Me lembra os negociadores lá de casa." He appreciated that I reminded him of negotiators from his homeland.
With a hearty laugh, he clapped his hands together. "Tudo bem, pequena, você venceu. Vamos conversar aqui mesmo."
I smiled sweetly. "Mr. Almeida has agreed to discuss business here."
For the next forty-five minutes, I facilitated a negotiation that would have made Wall Street veterans weep with envy. I didn't just translate—I enhanced Leonard's offers, softened Almeida's demands, and inserted subtle touches that guided the conversation toward mutual agreement.
Karen stared with undisguised shock, her champagne flute forgotten in her hand. Cindy kept whispering, "Was she always like this?" to anyone who would listen.
The negotiation wasn't just successful—it was a performance. When Almeida hesitated over terms, I'd interject with cultural context that Leonard couldn't possibly know. When Leonard seemed ready to concede too much, I'd reframe his position in Portuguese to sound more firm than it was.
By the time we finished, Almeida was enthusiastically shaking Leonard's hand, both men beaming like they'd just pulled off a heist.
"Minha jovem," Almeida addressed me directly, "você tem talento. Se algum dia precisar de um emprego no Brasil, me ligue." He handed me his card, telling me to call if I ever needed a job in Brazil.
As they prepared to leave for what Leonard described as "a celebratory night on the town," Leonard grabbed my hand with unexpected emotion.
"Meeting you tonight has been nothing short of providential," he gushed. "I've never seen translation work like that. It wasn't just translation—it was... business artistry."
His eyes gleamed with the universal look of a man who had just made a lot of money. "If there's ever an opportunity to work together again..."
I glanced pointedly at David. Leonard caught on instantly.
"Yes, yes, with your father, of course!" He redirected his enthusiasm toward David. "That one-billion-dollar order we discussed—I'll confirm with you tomorrow! And whenever I need to contact you," he added to me, "I'll go through your father first. Absolutely."
I didn't bother turning around, but I could practically feel Karen's eyes bulging out of their sockets. Her stage whisper carried easily across the room: "But that order was supposed to be ours! Ben, he promised us!"
Ben's response was sharp enough to cut glass. "You idiot! Raven just helped Leonard close a deal worth a hundred billion dollars! Not one—a hundred!"