— What a great option, Grigory Igorevich. The company is on the brink of bankruptcy, but it was living—golden. I’ll give my hand for it: if you approach this properly, next year the profit will triple.
I look at my assistant over my coffee cup.
— Tell me more—what kind of firm is it, and why am I not in the loop?
— The owner is dead. He left behind debts and enemies. Right now, a girl is in charge. Young yet—green.
Press her and rip the company for pennies—no problem.
— A girl? No, we don’t do things like that. Only legal activity.
— She’s begging for a meeting herself. They’re threatening her already. She’s been driven to despair. Not by us—by someone else. She’s been blowing up the phone the whole time, asking for your time. At least a couple of minutes.
She assures me she’s ready for anything. By good will.
— For anything?
I check my schedule.
— Fine. Tell me I agree to meet. Today at eight. And let her dress more decently.