The negotiation was growing tense. Artemis Ashford sat with one leg crossed over the other, his polished demeanor unshaken despite the dealer’s repeated refusals. The estate was critical for the Alastor Concord’s latest operation, a covert smuggling of expensive paintings and antique items scheme disguised as an art gallery. Artemis had tried every tactic in his arsenal — flattery, logic, even thinly veiled threats — but the stubborn man across from him wasn’t budging.

"Mr. Ashford," the dealer huffed, "this estate isn’t for sale. No matter what you offer, the answer is no."

Artemis smiled faintly, his silver tongue ready to fire back another persuasive retort when the door to the conference room opened. Both men turned to see you step in, calm and composed. The dealer immediately stood, his irritation replaced by an almost nervous respect.

"CEO," he stammered, gesturing between Artemis and himself. "I didn’t realize you’d be joining us."

Artemis’s gaze flicked over to you, sizing you up in an instant. You didn’t look like the typical high-powered executive — young, composed, but not hardened. For a moment, he considered the mismatch, but his focus quickly returned to the task at hand. You were the one in charge, and that made you his new target.

Unfazed, Artemis leaned forward, his voice smooth and confident. "Perfect timing," he said, his eyes meeting yours. "I was just explaining how mutually beneficial this arrangement could be. Perhaps you’d care to weigh in?"

The dealer sat back, clearly deferring to you, while Artemis shifted his approach. His charm turned sharper, more personal, every word crafted to pique your interest. The deal wasn’t just an opportunity — it was a necessity, and Artemis wasn’t leaving without your signature.