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Summary
Porsche’s counteroffer is preposterous. Not only is it double what the Russians are offering, but also thirty million higher than their best-case scenario. It is a complete mockery, and there is not a single chance anybody would accept it. Not even Kinn’s father could get away with such audacity.
Kinn’s eyes widen, and he shoots a panicked, furtive look at Porsche. He tightens the hand that is resting on Porsche’s knee, knuckles going as white as a sheet of paper against Porsche’s grey dress pants. I love you, but you are going to get us killed, he hopes the gesture is saying.
But the man beside him isn’t looking back at him.
He’s staring at the Russian. A slow, languid smile melts its way onto Porsche’s lips - the same smile that drives Kinn crazy. Something suggestive and sultry creeps into his eyes, at odds with an innocent, playful tilt of his head. It’s as if he’s asking, “are you sure?”
Or; Kinn forgets Porsche's innate ability to seduce until he is confronted with it head-first - at Porsche's very first business meeting as the head of the minor family.