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She lets out an exaggerated sigh, rubbing her temple. “Is this up for negotiation?”
I grin.
There it is…that word.
“You know there’s nothing more that turns me on than negotiating with you, baby.”
“Is that right?”
She twirls her highlighter, chewing on the end of it for a moment before speaking again.
“Okay then, I have a request. Well, actually, two of them. If you accept my terms, then you can add whoever you want to the guest list.”
“Whoever I want?” I raise a brow. “Uh-oh, do I need to be worried about these requests?”
She hesitates, and that alone tells me I should be.
Then she meets my gaze, voice softer. “I want to invite Lars’s daughter.”
I sit up straighter, my amusement fading slightly.
“Elsa?”
Megan nods. “Yes.”
I take a measured breath.
I can already see where this is going.
“Megan,” I say slowly, choosing my words carefully. “Lars and his daughter don’t exactly have a good relationship. We’d be sticking our noses in where they don’t belong.”
Megan folds her arms, her expression stubborn. “Exactly. And I know Lars—he won’t reach out himself. He won’t want to make her feel obligated. But if we invite her? Maybe it’s an opening.”
I tap my fingers against the counter, thinking.
Lars rarely talks about Elsa, but when he does? There’s regret there. A deep, aching kind.
I’m not against the idea. But…
“You’re assuming she’ll come.”
“I’m assuming she’ll at least have a choice,” Megan counters. “Especially if you send a private plane for her.”
I lean forward, studying her.
She’s so damn sure.
So determined.
And that’s one of the things I love about her—how fiercely she cares.
But still…
“She lives in London,” I remind her. “That’s a long way to travel for a man she barely speaks to. A man she barely knows.”
Megan shrugs. “Then she’ll say no. But at least she’ll know Lars wants her there.”
“But he doesn’t want her there, you do.”