“Of course what?”
She gave a thin smile.
“Nothing.”
“I can wait.”
He walked toward the central display.
Vanessa followed.
“Sir.”
“Yes?”
“We don't allow unsupervised browsing in certain sections.”
Marcus looked around.
Two customers were standing alone beside identical cases.
“You mean this section?”
“The high-jewelry collection.”
“I see.”
Vanessa folded her hands in front of herself.
“Perhaps I can direct you toward something more appropriate.”
Marcus looked at her.
“For whom?”
“For your budget.”
“I haven't given you one.”
“Exactly.”
There it was.
Marcus almost left then.
He could have called Nathan.
Ended the partnership before the meeting began.
But years in business had taught him something.
The first mistake was information.
The second revealed process.
So Marcus stayed.
“What do you recommend?”
Vanessa pointed toward a small display near the entrance.
“Those start around eight hundred.”
Marcus looked.
Silver bracelets.
Entry-level watches.
Beautiful pieces.
Nothing wrong with them.
“What if I want to see this?”
He indicated a diamond necklace in the main case.
Vanessa’s expression changed.
“That piece is seventy-eight thousand.”
“All right.”
“You want to see it?”
“Yes.”
She did not move.
Marcus waited.
Finally:
“Are you actually purchasing today?”
“That depends.”
“On what?”
“Whether I like what I see.”
Vanessa gave a quiet laugh.
One of the nearby customers looked over.
Then she said the sentence Marcus would later remember almost word for word.
“You don't even know what real value looks like.”
And the rest followed.
Nathan Graves listened without interrupting.
Vanessa attempted to interrupt twice.
Both times Nathan raised one hand.
When Marcus finished, the manager looked ill.
“Mr. Cole…”
Vanessa stepped forward.
“He came in dressed like—”
She stopped.
Nathan turned slowly.
“Like what?”
Vanessa’s mouth opened.
Closed.
Marcus watched.
That question had trapped her more effectively than anger would have.
Nathan repeated:
“Like what, Vanessa?”
“I only meant he didn't look like our usual private clients.”
Marcus raised an eyebrow.
Nathan said:
“Mr. Cole is the private client appointment.”
The words landed.
Vanessa looked at Marcus.
Then back at Nathan.
“The Cole Foundation?”
“Yes.”
Her face drained.
Marcus finally understood.
She knew the account.
Just not the man.
Nathan continued:
“The inventory review scheduled today is for the foundation partnership.”
Vanessa looked toward the jewelry.
Then Marcus.
“How much?”
Nathan’s expression hardened.
“That is none of your business.”
Marcus answered anyway.
“One point six million in the first cycle.”
Nobody spoke.
The customer near the watch case turned completely around now.
Vanessa looked at Marcus’s jacket again.
Something almost desperate crossed her face.
“I didn't know.”
Marcus’s expression stayed calm.
“I know.”
Those two words hurt her more than if he had shouted.
Vanessa tried again.
“If you had just said who you were—”
Marcus interrupted.
“I gave you my name.”
“You didn't explain—”
“My appointment was with management.”
“But you looked—”
She stopped herself again.
Marcus waited.
Nathan closed his eyes briefly.
Vanessa’s face reddened.
“I’m sorry.”
Marcus nodded.
“For what?”
“For the misunderstanding.”
“No.”
She looked confused.
Marcus stepped closer to the display.
“A misunderstanding is when you give me the wrong appointment time.”
“Or show me a bracelet when I asked for a watch.”
“You decided what I could afford before asking why I came in.”
“You refused to show me merchandise you were showing other customers.”
“And then you told me I couldn't earn enough in a lifetime to buy the cheapest thing here.”
He looked directly at her.
“Which part of that did you misunderstand?”
Vanessa said nothing.
Nathan asked another associate to take over the floor.
Then invited Marcus into the private salon.
Marcus did not move.
“Not yet.”
Nathan stopped.
“I want the cameras preserved.”
Vanessa stared.
Nathan nodded slowly.
“All of them?”
“From the moment I entered.”
“Yes.”
“And whatever service logs you maintain.”
“We can do that.”
Marcus looked at him.
“Have there been complaints about this before?”
Nathan hesitated.
Tiny pause.
Marcus saw it.
“There have.”
“Not necessarily like this.”
“That wasn't my question.”
Nathan exhaled.
“Yes.”
Vanessa stiffened.
“Nathan.”
He ignored her.
Marcus said:
“How many?”
“I don't know without checking.”
“You manage the store.”
“Some complaints go through customer care at corporate level.”
“Then check both.”
Vanessa stepped forward.
“This is ridiculous.”
Nathan turned.
“Vanessa.”
“No.”
She looked at Marcus.
“You come in dressed like you've been working construction all day, refuse to tell me anything, then suddenly you're acting like I committed some crime.”
Marcus looked down at his jacket.
A smear of pale dust marked one sleeve.
“I was working construction.”
She stared.
“I started there.”
He pointed at his boots.
“Still do sometimes.”
Then looked back at her.
“So tell me.”
“What does construction pay?”
Vanessa said nothing.
Marcus continued:
“My father wore boots like these until the day he died.”
“He could walk into any room I own wearing them.”
“If an employee treated him the way you treated me, I would want to know.”
That ended the argument.
Marcus eventually entered the private salon.
Nathan did not begin with jewelry.
He began with an apology.
Not corporate language.
No “if you felt.”
No “unfortunate interaction.”
“I failed.”
Marcus looked at him.
Nathan continued:
“You were invited here under my responsibility.”
“A member of my staff treated you in a way no customer should be treated.”
“I need to determine whether this was an isolated incident or a pattern.”
Marcus nodded.
“Good.”
Nathan looked surprised.
“You're still willing to discuss the partnership?”
“I’m willing to finish the meeting.”
“That's not the same thing.”