On her part, Pia was pretty sure she had Berman figured out. He was rich and sophisticated, as if that made a difference, and he controlled a large and apparently thriving company that had some curious relationship with the Chinese, probably for capital in exchange for proprietary secrets. Nano had its share of secrets, and she knew China was sitting on an ungodly amount of foreign exchange. He obviously thought he was special and entitled, and could engage in these games with her as he probably had with many women. He had all but admitted there was something going on at Nano that she shouldn’t know about. No, he had admitted it, but there he was, smiling smugly, lounging in his chair as if he were the king of the world. And behind that facade was just another horny guy hoping to get lucky.
In her relatively short life, Pia had had experience with plenty of men like him. Men obsessed with their own power who wanted to possess her in some way, even when they knew they shouldn’t, either because they were in a position of trust and responsibility over her, or were her boss, as in this case, or, in the worst instance of all, related to her. Pia saw Berman as just another predator who wanted to misuse his power and have his way. Although she knew she was playing a dangerous game, she was intent to turn the tables to get what she wanted without succumbing to him.
CHAPTER 41
“How about a little more of the Pinot Grigio,” Pia said, extending her empty glass in Berman’s direction. They’d left the question of her future hanging. When Berman had disappeared into the den, Pia got rid of her glass of wine in the same manner she had with the scotch the last time she’d been to Berman’s house: under the furniture. She wanted to play the tipsy role and thought it would be more convincing.
“Absolutely,” Berman said, pleased with the request. Perhaps Pia was relenting. He got up with the bottle and filled her glass. As he finished topping it off, he smiled and Pia smiled back. After making it look as if she had taken a sizable drink of wine, Pia set her glass down on the cocktail napkin. She then hefted the camera and took off the lens cap. She stood up and pretended to have trouble with her balance.
Berman watched her antics with a slight smile but then his brows knit as she brought the single-lens reflex camera up to her face, peering through the viewfinder and aiming directly at him.
“Wait a second!” Berman said, reaching out with his hand and extending it toward the camera. “What are you doing?”
“I’ve been taking pictures all afternoon,” Pia explained with a giggle. “I wanted to take a few more. I want to take some of you.”
“Why?” Berman questioned. The fact of the matter was that he had a reflex aversion to being photographed. He’d been burned before by overzealous paparazzi. Cameras made him leery.
“You’re a handsome man,” Pia said.
“I don’t like cameras.”
“Oh, come on! Relax!” Pia lifted the camera back in position for her to see through the view finder. Berman’s hand stayed in the middle of her field of vision. She lowered the camera. “Hey, it’s digital. If you don’t like it, it can be erased.”
“Maybe later,” Berman said. “Maybe we can take some photos of each other.”
“Just a couple?”
“No! Sit down. Let’s talk about your settlement.”
Pia settled back into the couch, placing the camera next to her. The charade was going to have to be extended.
“Okay,” Berman said, visibly relaxing. “Here’s what I propose.” He went on to outline the terms of a settlement for Pia, and it was very generous indeed. As he kept talking, Pia became confused.
“Wait, are you offering me a job?”
“Yes, it’s a personal services contract, not with Nano but with me directly. Rather like the one Miss Jones signed when she started working for me. And she is, as you know, a very valued and well-compensated employee.”
“You mentioned confidentiality agreements.”
“Yes, of course. They’re an integral part of the negotiation. You need to sign a confidentiality agreement that covers the nature of this conversation.”
“You mean before we negotiate the details of the job.”
“Yes, it’s standard for top-level employees who work directly with me. And extremely watertight. I have one here for you to sign, as well as a contract.”
“You have one ready for me?” Pia had noticed that when Berman had emerged from the den with his refreshed drink, he had been carrying several sheets of paper.
“Not exactly. As I said, it’s standard. It’s what I had drawn up for Whitney.”
“Wait, you’re going much too fast. What would I be doing for you?”
“Well, that would remain to be arranged. With certain employees, I prefer to secure their services under contract and then find the niche that they fit into. I know you will be a valued member of my staff, because of your scientific expertise and your other… talents.”
“And what might those be?”
“I said that the lab might not be the best place for you to work, but I want to keep you around. I’d like to have you here and with me on some of my travels. You’re very intelligent and perceptive and persuasive, and frankly I’d much rather have you working for me than against me. You’d be a great asset. Also I am very attracted to you, Pia. I think that is rather obvious, especially after that regrettable episode on your doorstep.”
“So you want to get me under contract. How romantic.”
“Come on, Pia, you came here voluntarily after nine o’clock at night. What was your idea for this evening? What did you think we were going to talk about? Or do? We’re healthy adults.”
Berman was speaking softly, leaning forward so that he was very close to Pia, who was sitting catty-corner on the couch.
Throwing caution to the wind, Pia stood and went to sit on the arm of Berman’s chair and draped an arm over his shoulder. She put her mouth close to his ear and whispered.
“Just tell me you had nothing to do with my accident.”
Berman tilted his head up and said softly, “I swear.”
“You’re a liar,” Pia said abruptly, and gave Berman a sharp jab in the kidney with the arm she had had over his shoulder. She stood up and ran around the other side of the glass coffee table as Berman came after her.
“Come here you, little bitch,” he roared. He was smiling broadly, enjoying the chase.
“What are you going to do, beat me up?”
“You hit me…”
Pia skipped around the furniture until she stood near the lobby. She held up her arm.
“That’s nothing. Look at me. My arm is broken in two places, and I had broken ribs and had a head injury. And I lost my spleen.”
“I had nothing to do with it,” Berman said, raising his hands in mock surrender. He was laughing and, at the same time, pleading almost.
Pia knew she’d judged him correctly. He was most likely a physical coward who probably enjoyed inflicting pain. Berman reminded her of her despised uncle.
“Do you enjoy thinking about women being hurt?’
“No, Pia, believe me. Maybe I like to play a game or two, but it’s always consensual and in good fun. Come on, Pia, you’re torturing me.”
“I know.”
“Is it the money? I can offer you more money.”
“Okay, offer me more money.”
“I’ll double the money.”
“So write it down.”
Berman scurried back to the desk and scratched on the contract with a pen. To Pia, he was weak, desperate, and pathetic. If he couldn’t control an issue, he wanted to buy his way to a solution. Pia’s confidence grew with her realization that she’d seized control of the situation.