Not this… this bundle of craziness who flings her arms around my shoulders, thrusts her breasts up and into my chest, tips up her chin, opens her mouth, and invites me to take and take.
Does she have no self-preservation? Does she think I am going to fall for her wide-eyed appeal? She has another think coming.
I tear my mouth away and she protests.
She twines her leg with mine, pushes up her hips, so that melting softness between her thighs cradles my aching hardness.
I glare into her face and she holds my gaze.
Trains her green eyes on me. Her cheeks flush a bright red. Her lips fall open and a moan bleeds into the air. The blood rushes to my dick, which instantly thickens. Fuck.
Time to put distance between myself and the situation.
It’s how I prefer to manage things. Stay in control, always. Cut out anything that threatens to impinge on my equilibrium. Shut it down or buy them off. Reduce it to a transaction. That I understand.
The power of money, to be able to buy and sell—numbers, logic. That’s what’s worked for me so far.
"How much?"
Her forehead furrows.
"Whatever it is, I can afford it."
Her jaw slackens. "You think… you—"
"A million?"
"What?"
"Pounds, dollars… You name the currency, and it will be in your account."
Her jaw slackens, "You're offering me money?"
"For your time, and for you to fall in line with my plan."
She reddens, "You think I am for sale?"
"Everyone is."
"Not me."
Here we go again. "Is that a challenge?"
Color fades from her face, "Get away from me."
"Are you shy, is that what this is?" I frown. "You can write your price down on a piece of paper if you prefer," I glance up, notice the bartender watching us. I jerk my chin toward the napkins. He grabs one, then offers it to her.
She glowers at him, "Did you buy him too?"
"What do you think?"
She glances around, "I think everyone here is ignoring us."
"It’s what I’d expect."
"Why is that?"
I wave the tissue in front of her face, "Why do you think?"
"You own the place?"
"As I am going to own you."
She sets her jaw, "Let me leave and you won't regret this."
A chuckle bubbles up. I swallow it away. This is no laughing matter. I never smile during a transaction. Especially not when I am negotiating a new acquisition. And that’s all she is. The final piece in the puzzle I am building.
"No one threatens me."
"You’re right."
"Huh?"
"I’d rather act on my instinct."
Her lips twist, her gaze narrows. All of my senses scream a warning.
No, she wouldn’t, no way—pain slices through my middle and sparks explode behind my eyes.
3
Summer
"You kneed me?"
He growls, actually growls. A shiver of heat ladders up my spine. My heart begins to thud.
Oh, hell I’ve done it now. Men and their delicate egos. Bet he won’t take this lying down.
I shove at his shoulders and he lurches to the side. I spring up, glance down to where he glares up at me, hunched over. My nerve endings tingle.
Why do I have such visceral reaction to him? Pompous prick.
He straightens, then shoves himself up to standing.
What the—? How could he have recovered from that knee to his balls so fast? I blink. No one has that much endurance, not unless he’s trained for it… Nah! I shove the thought aside.
He is a spoiled, pampered brat, no doubt. Typical. One of those who likes to flaunt what he has. Why do those with money think that is the solution to everything, huh? Because it is?
A hot sensation stabs at my chest. I’ve screwed it up. I’ve messed up my future and a chance for my sister to live a normal life.
The jackass in front of me swipes out his hand. I duck.
His features harden. He leans forward on the balls of his feet. Hell no, not going to let him catch me this time. I grab my bag from where it hangs on the hook below the bar counter, and head for the exit.
Shoving open the heavy glass door, I burst onto the sidewalk.
"You! Stop, right there." Something brushes my collar. I scream, lunge ahead. Adrenaline laces my veins. The blood slams so hard at my temples, I am sure I am going to faint.
Two cops approach me. Oh, my God! I wave at them. "Help!"
One of them catches sight of me; his forehead pinches.
The heat at my back turns up to a furnace. Shit, he’s close. He’s really, really, close. The hair on the nape of my neck rises. "Help me, please."
There’s a low exclamation behind me.
My stomach flip flops. Damn the man, how did he get here so quickly?
The first cop reaches us, "Everything okay here?"
"This chap," I stab my thumb in Mr. Grouchy Pants' direction, "he’s harassing me."
The second officer glances between us, then straightens, "Sinclair."
"Hello Josephine, Will." He nods at them.
What the—! He's on a first name basis with the cops? Does he have them on his payroll?
Of course he does. Asshole here would do everything to ensure circumstances are always within his control.
I dart forward.
"We're not done." His low growl follows me.
I sprint past the cops, up the street, veer right, then a left onto crowded Oxford Street. Safety in numbers. Okay, I go this! The breath rushes out of me.
When I reach the entrance to Tottenham Court Road tube station, I peek a glance behind me. There's no sign of him. Whew!
I swipe my card at the barriers, run down another flight of steps onto the platform as my train pulls into the station. I jump into the first open doors and collapse into a seat. Sweat beads my forehead; my hair is plastered to my cheek. I bend over, gasping. Close call. The woman opposite stares at me, wide-eyed. I meet her gaze and she promptly looks down at her Kindle.
Yep. One good thing about the tube in London, most people avoid eye contact. The anonymity that this city affords is precisely why I love it… and hate it. I slump against the barrier on my right.
It means no-one cares how I dress, or what I eat, or do for a living. It is why no one gives a shit about my sister lurching closer to her grave every day.
Nope, not gonna happen, not on my watch. I am going to find a way out of this mess. I am. At the next station, I check my phone. There's a new email in my inbox.
From: Meredith Vincent
To: Summer West
Dear Ms. West,
Your appointment to pitch for the innovative marketing strategy for 7A Investments is confirmed.
Mr. Sterling, our CEO, will see you at 9am, tomorrow.
Address is below.
Pls confirm your acceptance of the meeting by reply.
Yours sincerely,
Meredith Vincent
Executive Assistant
Wow! Okay. Did I write to 7A investments asking to pitch for their account? I don't remember it. I frown, toss my head. Doesn't matter.